e in the sky, and dropped it
quivering and bright into a shadow world. Then suddenly it was gone, and
the long hall was still.

The old precentor stepped beyond the screen.

Gaston Carew's face was in his hands, and his shoulders shook
convulsively. "I'll leave thee go, lad,_--ma foi_, I'll leave thee go.
But, nay, I dare not leave thee go!"

Some one came and tapped him on the shoulder. It was the sub-precentor.
"Master Gyles would speak with thee, sir," said he, in a low tone, as if
half afraid of the sound of his own voice in the quiet that was in
the hall.

Carew drew his hand hastily over his face, as if to take the old one off
and put a new one on, then arose and followed the man.

[Illustration: "'THAT VOICE, THAT VOICE,' NAT GYLES PANTED TO
HIMSELF."]

The old precentor stood with his hands still clasped against his
breast. "_Mirabile_!" he was saying with bated breath. "It is
impossible, and I have dreamed! Yet _credo_--I believe--_quia
impossibile est_--because it is impossible. Tell me, Carew, do I wake or
dream--or, stay, was it a soul I heard? Ay, Carew, 'twas a soul: the
lad's own white, young soul. My faith, I said he was of no account!
_Satis verborum_--say no more. _Humanum est errare_--I am a poor old
fool; and there's a sour bug flown in mine eye that makes it water so!"
He wiped his eyes, for the tears were running down his cheeks.

"Thou'lt take him, then?" asked Carew.

"Take him?" cried the old precentor, catching the master-player by the
hand. "Marry, that will I; a voice like that grows not on every bush.
Take him? Pouf! I know my place--he shall be entered on the rolls
at once."

"Good!" said Carew. "I shall have him learn to dance, and teach him how
to act myself. He stays with me, ye understand; thy school fare is
miserly. I'll dress him, too; for these students' robes are shabby
stuff. But for the rest--"

"Trust me," said Master Gyles; "he shall be the first singer of them
all. He shall be taught--but who can teach the lark its song, and not do
horrid murder on it? Faith, Carew, I'll teach the lad myself; ay, all I
know. I studied in the best schools in the world."

"And, hark 'e, Master Gyles," said Carew, sternly all at once; "thou'lt
come no royal placard and seizure on me--ye have sworn. The boy is mine
to have and to hold with all that he earns, in spite of thy
prerogatives."

For the kings of old had given the masters of this school the right to
take for St. Paul's ch