arted, in the hope of raising
money upon his estates and so starting upon his quest once more. Landing
at London, he had hurried on with a mind full of care, for he had heard
no word from Hampshire since the short note which had announced his
brother's death.

"By the rood!" cried John, looking around him exultantly, "where have we
seen since we left such noble cows, such fleecy sheep, grass so green,
or a man so drunk as yonder rogue who lies in the gap of the hedge?"

"Ah, John," Alleyne answered wearily, "it is well for you, but I never
thought that my home-coming would be so sad a one. My heart is heavy for
my dear lord and for Aylward, and I know not how I may break the news to
the Lady Mary and to the Lady Maude, if they have not yet had tidings of
it."

John gave a groan which made the horses shy. "It is indeed a black
business," said he. "But be not sad, for I shall give half these crowns
to my old mother, and half will I add to the money which you may have,
and so we shall buy that yellow cog wherein we sailed to Bordeaux, and
in it we shall go forth and seek Sir Nigel."

Alleyne smiled, but shook his head. "Were he alive we should have had
word of him ere now," said he. "But what is this town before us?"

"Why, it is Romsey!" cried John. "See the tower of the old gray church,
and the long stretch of the nunnery. But here sits a very holy man, and
I shall give him a crown for his prayers."

Three large stones formed a rough cot by the roadside, and beside it,
basking in the sun, sat the hermit, with clay-colored face, dull eyes,
and long withered hands. With crossed ankles and sunken head, he sat
as though all his life had passed out of him, with the beads slipping
slowly through his thin, yellow fingers. Behind him lay the narrow cell,
clay-floored and damp, comfortless, profitless and sordid. Beyond it
there lay amid the trees the wattle-and-daub hut of a laborer, the
door open, and the single room exposed to the view. The man ruddy and
yellow-haired, stood leaning upon the spade wherewith he had been at
work upon the garden patch. From behind him came the ripple of a happy
woman's laughter, and two young urchins darted forth from the hut,
bare-legged and towsy, while the mother, stepping out, laid her hand
upon her husband's arm and watched the gambols of the children. The
hermit frowned at the untoward noise which broke upon his prayers, but
his brow relaxed as he looked upon the broad silver piece wh