ore me again in thee. Didst thou never hear of thy
descent before?"

"That he was of the blood of the old English thanes I knew, but
fallen from their once high estate. Had he lived he might have
possessed me with the like feelings which prompted him: hatred of
the foreigner, rebellion to God's dispensation, which gave the land
to others. Even now as I speak, Christian though I am, I feel that
such things might be, but I count them now as dross, and seek a
goodlier heritage than Michelham."

"Poor lad! What has brought thee here again?"

"The desire to do my Master's will, and to preach the gospel to my
kindred. For if Christ shall make them free, then shall they be
free indeed."

"Hast thou heard of thy mother?"

"That she was dead. The message came through Michelham."

"I remember an outlaw came here one day and sought me. He bade me
send word to the boy we had (he said) stolen from them, that his
mother was no more. We did so; but who was thy mother by birth?"

"I know not."

"But I know."

"Tell me, father."

"It is a sad story."

"Let me hear it."

"Not yet. Go forth tomorrow. Seek thy kindred, and if thou livest
thou shalt know. Tell me, what is thine age?"

"I have seen twenty years."

"When thou hast attained thy twenty-first birthday, I may reveal
this secret--not before. Until then my lips are sealed; such was
the will of thy father."

"Shall I find the outlaws easily?"

"I know not; they have been much reduced both in numbers and in
power, and give small trouble now to the nobles and men of high
degree. Many have been hanged."

"Does Grimbeard yet live?"

"I know not."

"Father, I start on my search tomorrow; give me thy blessing and
pray for me."

Martin could not sleep. He stood long at the window of his cell in
a dreamy reverie. The story of the last Thane of Michelham, as
related in the Andredsweald, had often been told around the camp
fires, and although he was only in his thirteenth year when he left
them, it was all distinctly imprinted in his memory. Oh! how
strange it seemed to him to be there on the spot, which but for the
conquest of two centuries agone would perhaps have still been the
home of his race! But he did not indulge in sentimental sorrow. He
believed in the Fatherhood of God, and that all things work for
good to them that love Him.

What a dawn it was! A reddening of the eastern sky; a low band of
crimson; then rays like an aurora shooting upwards into the