the springtime he is silent or
mutters to himself: and this is Roland; his spirit seems shut up
within him in some close cell, and Mark prays for his release, but
till God call him, he treats him like a dear brother, and with the
reverence due to one who has looked out on the other side of Death,
and who may not say what his eyes beheld.

THE BROTHERS

There was once a great Lord of Yorkshire, the Baron de Benoit, who had
two sons named Henry and Christopher. Their mother was long dead;
Henry was a bold and careless boy, courageous and fearless, outspoken
to every one, yet loving none; fond of the chase, restless, and never
weary; but Christopher was a timid and weakly child, with a heart for
all; dreaming of great deeds which he feared to do; while Henry
dreamed not, but did whatever he undertook, great things or small.
Christopher sate much with the old priest, or with the women; when the
minstrels played in the hall, his heart was lifted up within him; and
he loved to loiter alone in the woods in springtime, to look in the
open faces of the flowers, and to listen for the songs of birds. The
Baron was a rough good-natured man, who ruled his estates diligently;
and he loved Henry well, but Christopher he despised in his heart, and
often said that he was a girl spoiled in the making.

Now how different were the boys in character let the following tale
witness:

Once the huntsmen caught a wolf, and brought it to the castle yard to
make sport; the wolf blinked and snarled in the pen where they put it;
and the boys were called to kill it. Christopher bent over to look at
it, and thought that the wolf was doubtless wondering why men wished
it evil, and was longing for the deep woods and for its warm lair.
Henry thrust a spear into Christopher's hand and bade him slay it. The
wolf rose at his approach, hobbling on his pinioned feet, hating to
die, thought Christopher, among laughter and jests. And he threw the
spear down and said, "I will not." "Nay, you dare not," said Henry;
and he thrust the spear into the wolf's side; the wolf struggled hard,
and as Henry pushed close, tore his hand; but Henry only laughed and
thrust again; and then he daubed Christopher's face with the blood
that ran from his hand, and said, "Go and tell the maidens that you
have slain a wolf in single combat."

But, for all that, Christopher loved his brother exceedingly, and
thought him the brightest and goodli