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 as she heard her governess's footstep tottering along the passage, she merely answered "Sir Knight I do not quite conceive your meaning; but if you are not weary of the sun come not in my path to-morrow, since I am purposed to shrive me at the monastic church, and if my father hear that you were to be seen on the way, he will assuredly cause you to die." And with that she clapped the window to, and Sir Philip was fain to begone, for he had noted the shy smile that played about her lips as she finished speaking, and understood her intent to perfection. Hence he betook himself to Master Cellarer at the priory, and astonished that good monk with his capacity for drinking, till the man crossed himself violently, thinking this guest was a kind of incarnate Wine-God, who had come over the hills to Abergavenny, as Bacchus came to Thebes, and would do damage to somebody ere he left it. Indeed Brother Toricellus expected every moment to see vine leaves wreathing round Philip's temples, and to hear cymbals clanging: but as a matter of fact the knight was only anxious to have his brain in good order, so that he might reason clearly, and see his way through this strange dædal of Love. At last he left the cellarer to his devotions, very solemnly and earnestly charging him to be moderate in his cups, and walked steadily to his lodging with about a gallon of French wine in his inwards and a fertile crop of ideas and conceptions in his brain. And the next morning he sought out his uncle, the old Canon, and explained the whole matter to him, dropping some hints as to a new rood