gloria, then, not to a frail man like thyself; thou must
learn to lean on the Creator, not the creature. Come, it is time to
vest for mass. Thou shalt serve me as acolyte for the last time."

People sometimes talk of that olden rite, wherein our ancestors
showed forth the death of Christ day by day, as if it had been a
mere mechanical service. It was a dead form only to those who
brought dead hearts to it. To our Martin it was instinct with life,
and it satisfied the deep craving of his soul for communion with
the most High, while he pleaded the One Oblation for all his
present needs, just entering upon a new world.

The short service was over, and Martin was breakfasting in the
chaplain's room with him and Hubert, who had been invited to share
the meal. They were sitting after breakfast--the usual feeling of
depression which precedes a departure from home was upon them--when
a firm step was heard echoing along the corridor.

"It is the earl," said the chaplain, and they all rose as the great
man entered.

"Pardon my intrusion, father. I am come to say farewell to this
wilful boy."

They all rose, Martin overwhelmed by the honour.

"Nay, sit down. I have not yet broken my own fast and will crack a
crust with you."

And the earl ate and drank that he might put them all at their
ease.

"So the scholar's gown and pen suit thee better than the coat of
mail and the sword, master Martin!"

"Oh, my good lord!"

"Nay, my boy, thou wast exiled from home in my cause, and I may owe
thee a life for all I can tell."

"They would not have harmed thee, not even they, had they known."

"But you see they did not know, and all was fish that came to their
nets. Martin, don't thou ever think of them."

"Hubert, thou hadst better go, and come back presently," whispered
the chaplain, who felt that there were certain circumstances of
which the boy might be better left ignorant, which nearly concerned
his companion.

"Nay," said Martin, 'there are no secrets between us. He knows
mine. I know his."

"But no one else, I trust," said the earl, who remembered a certain
prohibition.

"No, my lord, only Hubert. He already knew so much, I was forced to
tell him all."

"Then thou hast not forgotten thy kindred in the greenwood?"

"I can never forget my poor mother."

"Thou hast already told me all that thou dost know, and that thy
fathers once owned Michelham."

"So the outlaws said, the merrie men of the wood. Oh if my f