grace of youth, kissed the abbot's
hand, and then standing before him, with all due modesty, waited to
be addressed.

Such etiquette was exacted of those who had not yet won their
spurs.

The abbot gave him a short benediction, a brief "Dens te custodiat
fili," and quickly added, "I am told thou hast news for me of our
little patrimony at Aescendune."

"The wolves have ravaged it, father; our own pious brethren are
ejected; English swine root in its precincts."

The abbot coloured.

"Who has dared to do this impiety?" he thundered.

"The English rebels and outlaws, who have long lain hidden in the
woods, led by the son of the rebel lord who fell at Senlac."

"The brethren--are they safe?"

"They are on their journey hither; the saints have protected
them--no thanks to the English."

"And how dared the stripling thou namest to do such deeds; where
was thy father, the Baron?"

"He was foully slain in an ambush:" and Etienne, who strove to keep
cool, could not restrain a strange quivering of the lips.

"Come, tell me all, my son; God comfort thee."

Etienne began his tale, and the reader will easily guess that
Wilfred's character fared very badly at his hands--that without any
wilful falsehood, of which indeed this proud young Norman was
incapable, so distorted a version of the facts known to our readers
was presented, that the abbot shuddered at the daring bloodthirstiness
and impiety of one so young as this English lad.

"It is enough--thou shalt have audience with the king at once. I
can obtain it for thee; God's justice shall not ever sleep, and
William is His chosen instrument. Hark!"

The compline bell began to ring.

"William attends the service tonight. I will crave an audience for
thee; meanwhile, compose thy thoughts for God's holy house. Come,
my son, this is the way to the chapel."

If the reader has visited the old colleges in Oxford or Cambridge,
he will easily conceive a fair idea of the general appearance of
the abbey of Abingdon.

There were the same quadrangles (vulgarly called "quads"), the same
cloisters, open to the air, but sheltered from sun and rain; which
find their fairest modern example, perhaps, in Magdalene College,
Oxen. The cells of the monks resembled in size and position the
rooms of the undergraduates at the olden colleges, although they
were far less luxuriously furnished.

Nor was the element of learning wanting. The Benedictines were
indeed the scholars of Eur