down to the hospitable
board.

During the "noon meat" a homily was read. When the meal was over a
lay brother came and beckoned Sir Nicholas and Hubert to follow
him. He led them to the cloisters and knocked at the door of a
cell.

"Come in," said a deep voice.

Could this be the father Hubert had so longed to know, clad in a
long dark dress, with haggard and worn features, which, however,
still preserved their native nobility?

At the sight of his visitors he showed an emotion he vainly
endeavoured to repress, under an affectation of self control. He
greeted Sir Nicholas kindly, but embraced his fair son, while tears
he could not repress streamed down his worn cheeks.

"This is then my Hubert. Ah, how like thy short-lived mother! She
lives again in thee, my boy."

"But, my father, I trust thy courage and valour have descended to
me also. They do not call me girlish at Kenilworth."

"Such as I have to bequeath is, I trust, thine. Thy mother came of
a race more addicted to lute and harp than sword or spear. It was
the worse for them in their dire need, when the stern father of him
who shelters thee harried their land with fire and sword.

"But we waste time. Sit down and let the eyes of the father, weary
of the world, gaze upon the boy in whom he lives again."

For a few moments there was silence, during which Roger seemed
struggling to overcome an emotion which overpowered him.

"I was thinking of the sunny land of Provence, and was there again
with one dearly loved, who was only spared to me a few short
months. She died in giving thee birth, my Hubert; had she lived, I
had not become the wreck I am.

"So thou desirest to go forth into the world, my son?"

"As thou didst also, my father."

"But I trust under other auspices. Tell me not of my giddy youth.
Dearly did I pay the price of youthful folly and unseemly strife.
Thou, too, my boy, must buy experience; God grant more cheaply than
I bought mine."

There he shuddered.

"My boy, hast thou ever wished to be a warrior of the Cross--a
crusader?"

"Often, oh how often. In that way I would fain serve God."

The monk soldier smiled.

"And how wouldst thou attempt to convert the infidel?"

"At the first blasphemy he uttered I would cut him down, cleave him
to the chine."

"Such our knights generally hold to be the better way, for their
arms were readier than their tongues, but I never heard that they
saved the souls of the heathen thereby."

"