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Updated: June 21, 2025
Nor would he or any other return to his charge, so that henceforth Shefton was left as a dwelling for the ghost, which, as all might see from time to time, shone in the window-places like a candle.
Though I seem rough with you, my hope is that you may quaff many another cup at Shefton." It was seven o'clock of the next morning, and Sir John, having eaten his breakfast, was girding on his sword for Jeffrey had already gone to fetch the horses when the door opened and his daughter entered the great hall, candle in hand, wrapped in a fur cloak, over which her long hair fell.
So Cicely kissed Mother Matilda, who blessed and thanked her for all she had done, or tried to do on behalf of the sisterhood, and within five minutes once more they were on the backs of their weary beasts and riding through the rain to Shefton, which happily was but three miles away.
"Now you can enter on the Shefton lands, Abbot," cried a voice from the darkness of the gateway, though in the turmoil none knew who spoke; "but not for all England would I bear that innocent blood!" The Abbot's face turned ghastly, and though it was hot enough in that courtyard his teeth chattered.
These men rode to within a hundred paces of Shefton Hall, apparently with the object of attacking it, then seeing that the drawbridge was up and that archers with bent bows stood on either side, halted and sent forward one of their number with a white flag to parley. "Who holds Shefton," shouted this man, "and for what cause?"
"By the Abbot of Blossholme's soldiers so says Emlyn, yonder in the forest last eve. And the Abbot is coming to Shefton to declare me his ward and thrust me into the Nunnery that was Emlyn's tale. And so, although it is a strange thing to do, having none to protect me, I have fled to you because Emlyn said I ought."
But I must have more money than he finds me, and that is why I stirred in this matter of the Shefton lands. Also the Lady Cicely had jewels of vast price, though I fear greatly lest they should have been lost in the fire this night." "Filthy lucre the root of all evil," muttered Brother Martin. "Aye, and of all good.
At length they were undone and a sealed inner wrapping also, revealing, amongst other documents, a little packet of parchments covered with crabbed, unreadable writing, on the back of which, however, they could decipher the names of Shefton and Blossholme by reason of the larger letters in which they were engrossed.
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