"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to hate,I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn loose uponher fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order or decencyother than that which I enforce."

As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many minutes.

"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son," he exclaimed at last. "Thoucanst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of England,but even that may be possible; who knows other than God ?"

"For my part" laughed the outlaw, "I be willing to leave it in His arms;which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirk aresponsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the Lord."

"I fear, my son," exclaimed the priest, "that what seed of reverence I haveattempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit."

"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord intopartnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poorspirit to sorrowfuldle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may be wrong, forI am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of God andscapegoat be not that they are synonymous."

"Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends,"replied the priest, "and further, there be that nearer my heart just nowwhich I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to. Thequestion I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the very aged man whom thou callfather ?"

"I know of no treachery," said in reply the outlaw, "which he hath ever conceivedagainst me. Why ?"