"
The cardinal graciously inclined his head.
"Chancing to ride in this part of the forest," he said, "and having heard
of your beauty, I came to see whether the reality equalled the
description, and I find it far transcends it."
Mabel blushed deeply, and cast down her eyes.
"Would that Henry could see her now!" thought the cardinal, "Anne
Boleyn's reign were nigh at an end.--How long have you dwelt in this
cottage, fair maid?" he added aloud.
"My grandsire, Tristram Lyndwood, has lived here fifty years and more,"
replied Mabel, "but I have only been its inmate within these few weeks.
Before that time I lived at Chertsey, under the care of one of the lay
sisters of the monastery there--Sister Anastasia."
"And your parents--where are they?" asked the cardinal curiously.
"Alas! your grace, I have none," replied Mabel with a sigh. "Tristram
Lyndwood is my only living relative. He used to come over once a
month to see me at Chertsey--and latterly, finding his dwelling lonely,
for he lost the old dame who tended it for him, he brought me to dwell
with him. Sister Anastasia was loth to part with me--and I was grieved
to leave her--but I could not refuse my grandsire.
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