in this secure entrenchment stood their sacred and domestic
buildings, their barns and stables; therein slept their thralls,
and the teams of horses which cultivated their fields, and the
cattle and sheep on which they fed on feast days. A fine square
tower (still remaining) arose over the bridge, and alone gave
access by its stately portals to the hallowed precincts; it was
three stories high, the janitor lived and slept therein; a winding
stair conducted to the turreted roof and the several chambers.

At the time of our story Prior Roger ruled the brotherhood; a man
of varied parts and stainless life. He was not without monastic
society: fifteen miles east was the Cluniac priory of Lewes,
fifteen miles west the Benedictine abbey of Battle, three miles
south under the downs the "Alien" priory of Wilmington.

But wherever a monastery was built roads were made, marshes
drained, and the whole country rose in civilisation, while for the
learning of the nineteenth century to revile monastic lore is for
the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang.

Here the wayfarer found a shelter; here the sick their needful
medicine; here the children an instructor; here the poor relief;
and here, above all, one weary of the incessant strife of an evil
world might find PEACE.

On the morning succeeding the arrival of the great Earl of
Leicester, that doughty guest was seated in the prior's chamber, in
company with his host. The day was most uninviting without, but the
fire blazed cheerfully within. The snow kept falling in thick
flakes, which narrowed the vision so that our friends could hardly
see across the moat, but the fire crackled on the great hearth
where five or six logs fizzed and spluttered out their juices.

"My journey is indeed delayed," said the earl, "yet I am most
anxious to reach London and present myself to the king."

"The weather is in God's hands; we may pray for a change, but
meanwhile we must be patient and thankful that we have a roof over
our heads, my lord."

"And it gives me full time to hear particulars about the boy whom I
left in your care--a wilful, petted urchin, ten years of age he was
then."

"The lad is docile; he has scant inclination towards the Church,
but he shows the signs of his high lineage in a hundred different
ways."

"High lineage?" said the earl, with a smile and a look of inquiry.

"We had supposed him of thy kindred; he bears every sign of
noblesse and does not disgrace i