ather
had but lived."

"He would have made thee an outlaw, too."

"It might well have been, but my poor mother would have been happy
then."

"But I think Martin has a scheme in his head," said Hubert shyly.

"What is it, my son?" said the earl.

"The chaplain knows."

"He thinks that when he has put on the cord of Saint Francis he
will go and preach the Gospel to them that are afar off in the
woods."

"But they are Christians, I hope."

"Nominally, but they know nought of the Gospel of love and peace.
Their religion is limited to a few outward observances," said the
chaplain, "which, separated from the living Spirit, only fulfil the
words: 'The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.'"

"Ah, well, my boy, God speed thee on thy path, and preserve thee
for that day when thou shalt come as a messenger of peace to them
that sit in darkness," said the earl.

"Thine," he continued, 'is a far nobler ambition than that of the
warrior, thine the task to save, his to destroy.

"What sayest thou, Hubert?"

"I would fain be a soldier of the Cross, like my father, and cut
down the Paynim."

"Like a godly knight I once knew, who, called upon to convert a
Saracen, said the Creed and told him he was to believe it. The
Saracen, as one might have expected, uttered some words of scorn,
and the good knight straight-way clove him to the chine."

"It was short and simple, my lord; I should like to convert them
that way best."

The chaplain sighed.

"Oh, Hubert!" said Martin.

The earl listened and smiled a sad smile.

"Well, there is work for you both. Mine is not yet done in the busy
fighting world; rivers of blood have I seen shed, nay, helped to
shed, and I must answer to God for the way in which I have played
my part; yet I thank Him that He did not disdain to call one whose
career lay in like bloody paths 'the man after His own heart.'"

"It is lawful to draw sword in a good cause, my lord," said the
chaplain.

"I never doubted it, but I say that Martin's ambition is more
Christ-like--is it not?"

"It is indeed."

"Yet should I be called to lay down my life in some bloody field,
if it be my duty, the path to heaven may not be more difficult than
from the convent cell."

These last words he said as if to himself, but years afterwards, on
an occasion yet to be related, they came back to the mind of our
Martin.

Upon a horse, which he had learned at length to manage well; with
two attendants in the