the
woodland, the voices of birds and the sound of streams. And he had too
a great and simple love for his own kind, and though he had little
eloquence he had a plentiful command of friendly and shrewd talk, and
even better than he loved to speak he loved to listen. He had a sweet
and open smile, that drew the hearts of all whom he met to him,
especially of the children. And he loved his wandering life in the
free air, without the daily cares of settled habit.

He had spent the night with an old and calm man, who had been a
warrior in his youth, but who could now do little but attend to his
farm. Paullinus had spoken to him of the love of the Father and the
tender care that Jesus had to His brothers on earth; the old man had
listened courteously, and had said that it sounded fair enough, but
that he was too old to change, and must stand in the ancient ways.
Paullinus did not press him; his custom was never to do that. In the
morning he had gone to and fro in the village, and it was late before
he thought of setting out; the old man had pressed him to stay another
night, but something in Paullinus' heart had told him that he must not
wait, for it seemed to him that there was work to be done. The old man
came with him to the edge of the forest, and gave him very particular
directions to the village he was bound for, which lay in the heart of
the wood. "Of one thing I must advise you," he said. "There is, in the
wood, some way off the track, a place to which I would not have you
go--it is a temple of one of our gods, a dark place. Be certain, dear
sir, to pass it by. No one would go there willingly, save that we are
sometimes compelled." He broke off suddenly here and looked about him
fearfully; then he went on in a low voice: "It is called the Temple of
the Grey Death, and there are rites done there of which I may not
speak. I would it were otherwise, but the gods are strong--and the
priest is a hard and evil man, who won his office in a terrible way,
and shall lose it no less terribly. Oh, go not there, dear stranger;"
and he laid his hand upon his arm.

"Dear brother," said Paullinus, "I have no mind to go there--but your
words seem to have a dark meaning behind them. What are these rites of
which you speak?" But the old man shook his head.

"I may not speak of them," he said, "it is better to be silent."

Then they took a kind leave of each other, and Paullinus said that he
would pass again that way to see his fri