was made to you of me, which, God know it, I
was never guilty of.'" *
* This and the preceding passages are given literally
from Calle's letter in the Paston Collection.

"And now, pretty Mistress Margery," says
Sir James, "will you affirm that this man
sayeth untruly, when he sayeth that you are
ensured together? You have before said that
you are not so ensured. Will you cast off your
mother and your brothers to be the wife of a
low factor, and a companion for idle queans
and the wives of fat burgesses, instead of
wedding some noble knight, who will give you
a castle to dwell in, with all worship and
authority? Deny the contract; there is guilt
in affirming it, even if it had been made in a
moment of imprudence."

"Sir James Gloys, and you, my honoured
mother," answers the maiden, "Richard Calle
says truly, that I did not consciencely, nor to
the pleasure of God, when I concealed our contract
for fear, and for the time. We are
betrothed; and I rejoice in the handfasting. No
pain, no fear, shall ever again lead me to deny
it. He is my true husband, and may I ever
be to him a reverent and loving wife. For
who can I love as I have loved, and do love,
Richard Calle,—the companion of my childhood,
the instructor of my girlhood: a true
man, as brave as if he were the sturdiest
of belted knights—as wise as if he were the
clerkliest of learned scholars. He has abundance;
he is generous. When did a Paston
ask Richard Calle for aid that his hand was
not open? We may not want his help just
now; but if the time arrive, and assuredly it
may be not far off, that hand would be again
stretched out for succour. Come Richard
Calle of gentle or simple, I heed not; he is
my own true man, and to him is my faith
plighted, for ever and aye."

"Twice in a day, and had her head broke
in several places," grumbles the ancient
dame.

"Mistress Margery," responds the priest,
"you must take your own course. But this
is not now a matter for daughter and mother
to settle between them. It must before the
Lord Bishop. In the name of Holy Church,
I prohibit all intercourse by message or letter
between Richard Calle and yourself. You
must be in strict durance for a short season;
and then a higher than us shall decide,
contract or no contract. Heaven forfend that I,
or any servant of the altar, should let
matrimony."

"My child, go to your chamber," whispers
the subdued mother.

We see the shadow of Margery Paston,
before she quits the Oaken parlour, kneeling
for her mother's blessing.

The Michaelmas of 1469 is nearly come.
Margery Paston is still in durance at her
mother's house. Every art has been tried to
make her deny the betrothal. The priest has
worked upon the fears of the mother—the
daughter has been studiously kept from her
presence. But this state of things cannot
abide. Dame Margaret thus writes to Sir
John Paston: "I greet you well, and send
you God's blessing and mine; letting you
weet that on Thursday last was, my mother
and I were with my Lord of Norwich, and
desired him that he would no more do in the
matter touching your sister till that ye, and
my brother, and others, that were executors
to your father, might be here together, for
they had the rule of her as well as I; and
he said plainly that he had been required so
often to examine her, that he might not, nor
would, no longer delay it: and charged me,
in pain of cursing, that she should not be
deferred, but that she should appear before
him the next day. And I said plainly that I
would neither bring her nor send her. And
then he said that he would send for her
himself, and charged that she should be at
her liberty to come when he sent for her."

On the next day—it is a Friday—Margery
Paston is brought into the Bishop's Court.
There, surrounded with the panoply of the
Church, sits old Walter Lyhart—he that built
the roof of the nave, and the screen, of
Norwich Cathedral. The maiden trembles,
but her spirit remains unbroken. The bishop
puts her in remembrance how she was born,
—what kin and friends she has—"And ye
shall have more, young lady, if ye will be
ruled and guided after them. But if ye will
not, what rebuke, and loss, and shame will be
yours? They will evermore forsake you, for
any good, or help, or comfort that ye shall
have of them. Be well advised. I have
heard say that ye love one that your friends
are not well pleased that ye should love. Be
advised—be right well advised."

"I am the betrothed wife of Richard
Calle. I must cleave to him for better for
worse."

"Rehearse to me what you said to him.
Let me understand if it makes matrimony?"

"We have plighted our troth—we are
handfasted. How can I repeat the words? Richard
said—Oh, my lord! spare me. I am bound
in my conscience, whatsoever the words were.
If the very words make not sure, make it, I
beseech you, surer ere I go hence."

And then the bishop dismisses the maiden
with many frowns.

Richard Calle is summoned. He briefly
tells the time and place where the vows were
exchanged. The bishop is bewildered. He
scarcely dare hesitate to confirm the marriage.
But the subtle priest is at his side, and he
whispers the fearful word of "Lollardie."
Then the bishop hastily breaks up the court,
and says, "That he supposed there should be
found other things against him that might
cause the letting the marriage; and therefore
he would not be too hasty to give
sentence."

Margery Paston stands again upon her
mother's threshold. The aged servant is