ltane awhile, hands clenched, head bent,
staring ever northwards, his blood aglow with eager love, his heart
a-throb with passionate remorse.

"Come, my lord," breathed Winfrida, "O come--in Mortain is rest and
solace--and love!"

"Rest?" said Beltane softly, "solace and love--O sweet thought! Yet I
may not go hence, for here is sorrow and shame and suffering--sword
and fire and battle. So must I bide here in Pentavalon--with my duty."
So saying, he lifted Winfrida to Sir Jocelyn's ready clasp and
thereafter spake with head downbent: "An thou chance to see--her--
within Mortain, I pray you say that the blind doth see at last and is
gone to his duty, that, peradventure, he may be, some day, more worthy
her great love. And now fare ye well, good friends, God have ye ever in
His tender care. Come, Roger!"

Then Beltane turned him suddenly away, and with broad back set towards
Mortain, strode off across the desolate moor.

CHAPTER L

TELLETH HOW BELTANE WENT FORTH TO HIS DUTY

Silent went Beltane, his lips firm-set, his wistful eyes staring ever
before him, nor paused he once, nor once glanced back towards that
happy Mortain which held for him all that was fair and sweet and noble;
that pure and faithful heart wherein no evil could exist; that radiant
body in whose soft, white loveliness lay all the joy, all the happiness
the wide world might ever yield him.

And now, because of her proved innocence, he was uplifted by a great
and mighty joy, and therewith his step was light and swift; anon,
because of his base doubt of her, he writhed 'neath the sharp-gnawing
tooth of bitter remorse, and therewith his step grew heavy and slow.
Now was he proud of her so great love for him, and again, he knew a
profound and deep humility because of his so great unworthiness. Thus
went he, nothing speaking, now with flying feet, now with steps that
dragged, insomuch that watchful Roger fell to solemn wonderment, to a
furtive unease, and so, at last, to speech.

"Lord," quoth he in a voice of awe, but Beltane strode on unheeding,
whereat Roger's eyes grew round and his ruddy cheek pale, and clenching
his fist, he raised aloft his first and little fingers so that they
formed two horns, and with the horns he touched Beltane lightly on the
shoulder. "Master!" said he.

Then Beltane started, and turning, looked at Roger, whereupon Roger
immediately crossed his fingers.

"Ha, Roger, I was deep in my thoughts, what would ye?"