e upon a gentle eminence stood a wooden cross most artfully
wrought and carven by the hermit's skilled and loving fingers.

Morning and evening, winter and summer it was his custom ever to tread
this painful way, wetting the stones with the blood of his atonement.

Now upon a certain rosy dawn, ere yet the sun was up, Beltane standing
amid the leaves, saw the hermit issue forth of the hut and, with bowed
head and folded hands, set out upon his appointed way. The cruel stones
grew red beneath his feet yet he faltered not nor stayed until, being
come to the cross, he kneeled there and, with gaunt arms upraised,
prayed long and fervently so that the tears of his passion streamed
down his furrowed cheeks and wetted the snow of his beard.

In a while, having made an end, he arose and being come to his hut once
more, he of a sudden espied Beltane standing amid the leaves; and
because he was so fair and goodly to look upon in his youth and might,
the pale cheek of the hermit flushed and a glow leapt within his sunken
eyes, and lifting up his hand, he blessed him.

"Welcome to this my solitude, my son," quoth he, "and wherefore hast
thou tarried in thy coming? I have watched for thee these many days.
Come, sit you here beside me in this blessed sun and tell me of thy
latter doings."

But the eyes of Beltane were sad and his tongue unready, so that he
stammered in his speech, looking ever upon the ground; then, suddenly
up-starting to his feet, he strode before the hut, while Ambrose the
wise looked, and saw, yet spake not. So, presently, Beltane paused, and
looking him within the eyes spake hurriedly on this wise:

"Most holy father, thou knowest how I have lived within the greenwood
all my days nor found it lonely, for I did love it so, that I had
thought to die here likewise when my time should come. Yet now do I
know that this shall never be--to-day I go hence."

"Wherefore, my son?"

"There is come a strange restlessness upon me, a riot and fever of the
blood whereby I am filled with dreams and strange desires. I would go
forth into the great world of men and cities, to take my rightful place
therein, for until a man hath loved and joyed and sorrowed with his
fellows, he knoweth nought of life."

"Perchance, my son, this is but the tide of youthful blood that tingles
in thy veins? Or is it that thou hast looked of late within a woman's
eyes?"

Then Beltane kneeled him at the feet of Ambrose and hid his face
betw