Paul secretly in his heart vowed that no syllable which should hurt his hosts should ever pass his lips; but he bent his head with due reverence before the monk, who smiled and nodded cheerily to him before he went his way.  It seemed strange that so jovial and kindly a man should so lightly speak of burning to death fellow creatures whom he had regarded for years with kindly goodwill.  But there were strange anomalies in those days, even as there are in our own, and Paul saw nothing strange in this, nor in his own conduct, which made him appear submissive to the dictates of the Holy Church, as he ever called her in his thoughts, whilst all the time he was resolved neither to hear nor to see any of the things which would, if made known, injure his hosts in the eyes of the spiritual authorities.  The very teaching of those spiritual pastors inculcated a certain amount of deceit and double dealing.  What wonder if the weapon so freely used by themselves sometimes turned its double edge against them in its turn?

Paul accompanied the monk to the gate which led to the so-called road by which Figeon’s was approached.  It was nothing but a rude cart track; and although well-tilled fields lay on one side of this track, the forest lay upon the other, stretching away black and dim into immeasurable distance.

Paul lingered a little while beside the gate, watching the friar descend the sloping path; and he might have remained longer than he knew, for he was aroused from his day dream by the growl of one of the farm dogs, who stood at his side.  Looking quickly round him, he fancied he detected amid the shadows of the trees across the road a dark figure almost concealed behind a solid trunk, the face alone visible—­a dark, saturnine face, with a pair of eyes that gleamed like those of some wild beast.

The moment those eyes met Paul’s the head was withdrawn, and the youth stood asking himself if it were not all a dream; but if it had been one, it was remarkably clear and vivid, and he walked to the house with a look of deep thought upon his face.

Chapter 3:  A Strange Encounter.

“Let me go,” said Paul; “I should like the walk through the wood.  I am quite strong again now, and I am weary of doing nothing from morning to night.”

“Well, I don’t know why you should not if it pleases your fancy,” said the farmer.  “You will be welcome at the Priory, as all guests are who come with news for the holy brothers from the world without.  ’Tis less than four miles away, and you have got the use of your legs.  Go, and welcome, if you will.”

“I would go with you, were I not bound to go to Chelmsford myself,” quoth Jack, the farmer’s ruddy-faced son, of whom mention has not yet been made.

Paul had indeed seen but little of him so far, as his time was mainly spent in the fields, and he had been absent from home on his first arrival there, buying some fat sheep to be killed and salted down for consumption in the winter.