en hastened on, the lighter of heart for having fallen in
with these strange men of pleasure.

Alleyne had gone no great distance for all the many small passages that
had befallen him. Yet to him, used as he was to a life of such quiet
that the failure of a brewing or the altering of an anthem had seemed
to be of the deepest import, the quick changing play of the lights and
shadows of life was strangely startling and interesting. A gulf seemed
to divide this brisk uncertain existence from the old steady round of
work and of prayer which he had left behind him. The few hours that had
passed since he saw the Abbey tower stretched out in his memory until
they outgrew whole months of the stagnant life of the cloister. As he
walked and munched the soft bread from his scrip, it seemed strange to
him to feel that it was still warm from the ovens of Beaulieu.

When he passed Penerley, where were three cottages and a barn, he
reached the edge of the tree country, and found the great barren heath
of Blackdown stretching in front of him, all pink with heather and
bronzed with the fading ferns. On the left the woods were still thick,
but the road edged away from them and wound over the open. The sun lay
low in the west upon a purple cloud, whence it threw a mild, chastening
light over the wild moorland and glittered on the fringe of forest
turning the withered leaves into flakes of dead gold, the brighter for
the black depths behind them. To the seeing eye decay is as fair as
growth, and death as life. The thought stole into Alleyne's heart as he
looked upon the autumnal country side and marvelled at its beauty. He
had little time to dwell upon it however, for there were still six good
miles between him and the nearest inn. He sat down by the roadside
to partake of his bread and cheese, and then with a lighter scrip he
hastened upon his way.

There appeared to be more wayfarers on the down than in the forest.
First he passed two Dominicans in their long black dresses, who swept by
him with downcast looks and pattering lips, without so much as a glance
at him. Then there came a gray friar, or minorite, with a good paunch
upon him, walking slowly and looking about him with the air of a man who
was at peace with himself and with all men. He stopped Alleyne to ask
him whether it was not true that there was a hostel somewhere in those
parts which was especially famous for the stewing of eels. The clerk
having made answer that he had h