s mercy hides from thee."

They had now gained a slight elevation, and could see the tops of
the trees below them for miles, including a portion of the swamp.

"Father, how full the woods are of smoke: look, it is rolling in
great billows over the tree tops. Surely the woods are on fire."

"I have heard that in foreign countries the woods are so dry in
summer that they burn easily, and that people caught in the forests
have great difficulty in saving their lives; but it is not so here,
the reeds and flags of the marshes alone are on fire."

"Methinks I hear the shouts of men who strive for mastery," and as
he spoke, the fire of the warrior kindled in his eyes.

"Thou mayst not join them if such be the case; thou wilt keep thy
promise, my son."

"Yes," said the tamed tiger cub, with a sigh; "yet I would fain
know what my father is doing. Let us go on."

Two more hours of forest travelling carried them far from the sound
of the conflict and they gained the outskirts of the forest.
Entering some nicely cultivated meadows, they came in sight of a
small Norman priory, which Etienne had visited in earlier days,
when out on woodland expeditions; for it was miles from Aescendune,
and the way lay through the forest.

"Farewell my son, I must leave thee here. They are thy countrymen
in yonder cell, and will gladly entertain thee."

"Thy blessing, my father."

"It is thine, my son. Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with
thy God, and He will bless thee."

Etienne sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, for he was very tired,
and watched the departing figure of Father Kenelm. His eyes were
dim, for he felt very much touched, for the time at least.

But he was now restored to life and liberty, and no bird in the
sky, no deer on the mountain, felt more blithe and happy than he
soon began to feel.

There is an old adage about the Evil One. It is said he became sick
and wanted to be a monk, but when he became well--well--Was this
the case with Etienne?

Time will show: for the present we leave him blowing the horn
suspended at the gate of St. Ouen's priory.

CHAPTER XVI. RETRIBUTION.

"Raro antecedentem scelestum
Deseruit pede Poena claudo."

It was midday, and the sun was pouring the full power of his
noontide beams on the wilderness of reeds and flags which
overspread the southern side of the Dismal Swamp, reposing on the
treacherous surface of bog, quagmire, and quicksand.

Signs of life there were non