at rowed towards her. I could not tell if they were the
same I saw up by the chateau, but I guessed they were, as I saw them
climb into the bark. And then I journeyed on, clinging here and there to
the cliff or the green stuff that grew thereon, like a very cat of the
woods, past Fermain Bay, and through the little township of St. Pierre
Port, and I wondered, since the pirate bark was so near at hand, that
naught was stirring in the street or on the jetty. Now, St. Pierre Port
was a pleasant place to me. A little world of its own, for every man of
St. Pierre Port was a soldier, and could draw bow and slash with his
broadsword, and pirates meddled not much with St. Pierre Port, for its
men were tough and stern and loved their homes right well.

I stayed not to chatter with fishermen or priest to-day; but hasted on,
and at length the little tower of St. Sampson arose before me, and ere
long I was at the abbot's lodging.

The abbot paced up and down his orchard and garden of flowers.

"Thou art late, my son," said he. "Did my lord detain you?"

"My lord," I said, "was very kind and gentle, far beyond that I dreamed
possible, and kept me with good entertainment and choice converse far
into the day."

"And my lord was pleasing to thy taste?" said Abbot Michael, with a
strange smile, not like his own, that I knew not.

"How may I, holy Father," answered I, "speak aught but well of him, who
did me no ill, but good only? And, indeed, my lord spake to me out of
his store of knowledge, as to one not ignorant and young; but, indeed,
like himself in age and state. And yet, in good faith, he pleased me not
at first."

"And how was that?"

"There seemed indeed, Father, somewhat that I distrusted, and then his
passion at the opening of thy scroll was terrible to see."

"Ay, was he moved? And what said he when he perceived that inner
scroll?" inquired the abbot.

"Moved, Father! I thought he might have done some deadly deed. But he
calmed himself at length."

"And what sent he in return?"

"Nothing in writing," I answered, "but this by my mouth--that the inner
scroll was the writing of some foe of other days, who thus strikes at a
fallen man."

The abbot mused in silence at this reply, and took a pace or two beside
his lily border. Then he gazed seriously at me for a moment, and bade me
walk by his side.

"Thou hast seen to-day, son, one of the world's schemers, and thou hadst
been, as was natural, deceived by him. Wi