THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
and a true patriot like Sir Symon always chooses to give employment to his countrymen rather than strangers. But this wish seems to me not very sensible, since if he were hanged for carrying off the sweet body and unspeakable charms of Bertha, he would have so to speak, his money's worth; nay I profess it were well worth to be the husband of such a girl for a week and then to swing away. And, in effect, he determined to make her his wife, come what might, and they began to plot together how best to bring their love to its consummation. Then Bertha remembered that below Wentwood not far from the Uske river is a little church called Kemeys; by the which the road from Caerleon to Uske passeth—a small church it is in truth and lowly, being named Inferior to distinguish it from that other Kemeys beyond called Commander. But here Bertha said the parson was an old priest who had once looked after souls at Estrighoil Castle, and had loved her beyond all (as was indeed natural) and she believed that he would knot them together ecclesiastically in the sacrament of matrimony. But it was as well, (they thought), to be sure of this beforehand; because if the parson took it into his head to curse instead of to bless it would be rather awkward. Wherefore Bertha wrote a letter (the which she could do very well) superscribing it "For the hands of Dom. Andrew de Fago, parson of Kemeys: these:" and this she gave to Sir Symon who rode down through the wood and came out on the road to Uske not far from Kemeys Church. He had not, you will sup-
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