Page:Stories from Old English Poetry-1899.djvu/153

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MARGARET, THE FAIR MAID OF FRESINGFIELD.
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posting back to Fresingfield to see the fair maiden.

It was on the very morn in June that Lacy’s rank and love were revealed to Margaret that Edward gained admission to the abode of the learned friar. In his darkened room not a ray of sunlight made its way into the deep gloom. As the prince entered, he could hardly distinguish the stately figure of the monk as he rose and came forward to greet him.

“Welcome, my lord,” said the deep voice of Bacon, “what errand has your highness, that he thus honors my humble cell?”

“Know you my rank, good friar?” asked Edward, surprised at the salutation.

“Not only your rank, my prince, but also your errand. You are come to ask my aid in your suit with Margaret.”

“By heaven, this is magic indeed,” said Edward, aghast to have his thoughts thus read before he could tell them. “You speak the truth. And since you know so much, tell me now how I can win the lady?”

“You have dallied too long in Oxford, my lord,” answered Bacon, shaking his head with a grave smile. “I might have aided you at first, but now it is beyond my art. Already your friend has won her for himself.”

“What mean you?” cried Edward, turning