be seized upon the road with one of his fits of
frenzy, no one could tell what the result might be, and so there was no
dissentient voice raised when a quick start and a rapid pace was
suggested by Gaston.

The woodman took his boy in front of him upon the strong animal he
bestrode. Roger was plainly unfit to sit a horse unsupported by a strong
arm, and as they rode through the chill night air a dull lethargy seemed
to fall upon him, and he slept in an uneasy, troubled fashion. Every
moment his father feared to hear him answer an unheard call, feared to
feel him struggle wildly in his encircling arm; but neither of these
things happened. Mile after mile was traversed; the moonlight enabled
the party to push rapidly onward. Mile after mile slipped away; and just
as the first dim rays of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, John, who was
himself by this time looking white and jaded, pointed eagerly towards a
spire rising up against the saffron of the sky to the south.

"That is the spire of St. Michael's church," he cried. "The abode of the
holy men of whom Father Paul is one is nigh at hand. Ride on, good
Gaston, and bid the holy man come forth in the name of the love of the
Blessed Saviour. If we may once put the child in his keeping, the powers
of hell will not prevail to snatch him thence."

Gaston, who was the freshest of the little band, eagerly pressed onward
with his message. His tired horse, seeing signs of habitation, pricked
up his ears, and broke into an eager gallop. The youth quickly
disappeared from the eyes of his companions along the road; but when
they reached the monastery gate they saw that his errand had been
accomplished. A tall monk, holding in his hand a crucifix, advanced to
meet them, with a word of blessing which bared all heads; and advancing
to the side of the woodman's horse, he took the apparently inanimate
form of the boy in his arms, and looking into the wan face, said:

"Peace be with thee, my son. Into the care of Holy Church I receive
thee. Let him who can prevail against the Church of God pluck thee from
that keeping!"

CHAPTER XI. A QUIET RETREAT.

Little did Raymond de Brocas think, as he stepped across the threshold
of that quiet monastic home, that the two next years of his own life
were to be spent beneath that friendly and hospitable roof. And yet so
it was, and to the training and teaching he received during his
residence there he attributed much of the strength of