over the other's face, that might denote
any fierce emotion, either of anger or grief.

"Do you think it is that?" he hissed. "Why, man, where is your
priesthood? Do you think the poor dame within would not give her soul
for a priest?... Why, I have prayed God night and day to send us a
priest. She is half mad with sorrow; and who knows whether ever again in
this world--"

He broke off, his face all distorted with pain; and Robin felt a strange
thrill of glory at the thought that he bore with him, in virtue of his
priesthood only, so much consolation. He faced for the first time that
tremendous call of which he had heard so much in Rheims--that desolate
cry of souls that longed and longed in vain for those gifts which a
priest of Christ could alone bestow....

"... The question is," the old man was saying more quietly, "how to get
you in to her Grace. Why, Sir Amyas opens her letters even, and reseals
them again! He thinks me a fool, and that I do not know what he does....
Do you know aught of medicine?" he asked abruptly.

"I know only what country folks know of herbs."

"And their names--their Latin names, man?" pursued the other, leaning
forward.

Robin half smiled.

"Now you speak of it," he said, "I have learned a good many, as a
pastime, when I was a boy. I was something of a herbalist, even. But I
have forgotten--"

"Bah! that would be enough for Sir Amyas--"

He turned and spat venomously at the name.

"Sir Amyas knows nothing save his own vile trade. He is a lout--no more.
He is as grim as a goose, always. And you have a town air about you," he
went on, running his eyes critically over the young man's dress. "Those
are French clothes?"

"They were bought in France."

The two stood silent. Robin's excitement beat in all his veins, in spite
of his weariness. He had come to bear a human message only to a
bereaved Queen; and it seemed as if his work were to be rather the
bearing of a Divine message to a lonely soul. He watched the old man's
face eagerly. It was sunk in thought.... Then Mr. Bourgoign took him
abruptly by the arm.

"Give me your arm again," he said. "I am an old man. We must be going
back again. It seems as if God heard our prayers after all. I will see
you disposed for to-night--you and your man and the horses, and I will
send for you myself in the morning. Could you say mass, think you? if I
found you a secure place--and bring Our Lord's Body with you in the
morning?"

He checke