CHAPTER XI. HOW A YOUNG SHEPHERD HAD A PERILOUS FLOCK.

home.” “Yes,insooth,CastleTwynhamismyhome,andSirNigelLoringmyfather.Ishouldhavetoldyousothismorning,butyousaidthatyouwerecomingthither,soIbethoughtmethatImightholditbackasasurprisetoyou.Ohdear,butitwasbravetoseeyou!”shecried,burstingouta-laughingoncemore,andstandingwithherhandpressedtoherside,andherhalf-closedeyestwinklingwithamusement.“Youdrewbackandcameforwardwithyoureyesuponmybookthere,likethemousewhosniffsthecheeseandyetdreadsthetrap.” “Itakeshame,”saidAlleyne,“thatIshouldhavetouchedit.” “Nay,itwarmedmyveryhearttoseeit.SogladwasI,thatIlaughedforverypleasure.Myfinepreachercanhimselfbetemptedthen,thoughtIheisnotmadeofanotherclaytotherestofus.” “Godhelpme!Iamtheweakestoftheweak,”groanedAlleyne.“IpraythatImayhavemorestrength.” “Andtowhatend?”sheaskedsharply.“Ifyouare,asIunderstand,toshutyourselfforeverinyourcellwithinthefourwallsofanabbey,thenofwhatusewoulditbewereyourprayertobeanswered?” “Theuseofmyownsalvation.” Sheturnedfromhimwithaprettyshrugandwave.“Isthatall?”shesaid.“ThenyouarenobetterthanFatherChristopherandtherestofthem.Yourown,yourown,everyourown!Myfatheristheking'sman,andwhenheridesintothepressoffightheisnotthinkingeverofthesavingofhisownpoorbodyhereckslittleenoughifheleaveitonthefield.Whythenshouldyou,whoaresoldiersoftheSpirit,beevermopingorhidingincellorincave,withmindsfullofyourownconcerns,whiletheworld,whichyoushouldbemending,isgoingonitsway,andneitherseesnorhearsyou?Wereyeallasthoughtlessofyourownsoulsasthesoldierisofhisbody,yewouldbeofmoreavailtothesoulsofothers.” “Thereissoothinwhatyousay,lady,”Alleyneanswered“andyetIscarcecanseewhatyouwouldhavetheclergyandthechurchtodo.” “Iwouldhavethemliveasothersanddomen'sworkintheworld,preachingbytheirlivesratherthantheirwords.Iwouldhavethemcomeforthfromtheirlonelyplaces,mixwiththeborelfolks,feelthepainsandthepleasures,thecaresandtherewards,thetemptingsandthestirringsofthecommonpeople.Letthemtoilandswinken,andlabor,andploughtheland,andtakewivestothemselves——” “Alas!alas!”criedAlleyneaghast,“youhavesurelysuckedthispoisonfromthemanWicliffe,ofwhomIhaveheardsuchevilthings.” “Nay,Iknowhimnot.Ihavelearneditbylookingfrommyownchamberwindowandmarkingthesepoormonksofthepriory,theirwearylife,theirprofitlessround.Ihaveaskedmyselfifthebestwhichcanbedonewithvirtueistoshutitwithinhighwallsasthoughitweresomesavagecreature.Ifthegoodwilllockthemselvesup,andifthewickedwillstillwanderfree,thenalasfortheworld!” Alleynelookedatherinastonishment,forhercheekwasflushed,hereyesgleaming,andherwholeposefullofeloquenceandconviction.Yetinaninstantshehadchangedagaintoheroldexpressionofmerrimentleavenedwithmischief. “WiltdowhatIask?”saidshe. “Whatisit,lady?” “Oh,mostungallantclerk!Atrueknightwouldneverhaveasked,butwouldhavevowedupontheinstant.'TisbuttobearmeoutinwhatIsaytomyfather.” “Inwhat?” “Insaying,ifheask,thatitwassouthoftheChristchurchroadthatImetyou.Ishallbeshutupwiththetire-womenelse,andhaveaweekofspindleandbodkin,whenIwouldfainbegallopingTroubadourupWilverleyWalk,orloosinglittleRolandattheVinneyRidgeherons.” “Ishallnotanswerhimifheask.” “Notanswer!Buthewillhaveananswer.Nay,butyoumustnotfailme,oritwillgoillwithme.” “But,lady,”criedpoorAlleyneingreatdistress,“howcanIsaythatitwastothesouthoftheroadwhenIknowwellthatitwasfourmilestothenorth.” “Youwillnotsayit?” “Surelyyouwillnot,too,whenyouknowthatitisnotso?” “Oh,Iwearyofyourpreaching!”shecried,andsweptawaywithatossofherbeautifulhead,leavingAlleyneascastdownandashamedasthoughhehadhimselfproposedsomeinfamousthing.Shewasbackagaininaninstant,however,inanotherofhervaryingmoods. “Lookatthat,myfriend!”saidshe.“Ifyouhadbeenshutupinabbeyorincellthisdayyoucouldnothavetaughtawaywardmaidentoabidebythetruth.Isitnotso?Whatavailistheshepherdifheleaveshissheep.” “Asorryshepherd!”saidAlleynehumbly.“Buthereisyournoblefather.” “AndyoushallseehowworthyapupilIam.Father,Iammuchbeholdentothisyoungclerk,whowasofservicetomeandhelpedmethisverymorninginMinsteadWoods,fourmilestothenorthoftheChristchurchroad,whereIhadnocalltobe,youhavingordereditotherwise.”Allthisshereeledoffinaloudvoice,andthenglancedwithsidelong,questioningeyesatAlleyneforhisapproval. SirNigel,whohadenteredtheroomwithasilvery-hairedoldladyuponhisarm,staredaghastatthissuddenoutburstofcandor. “Maude,Maude!”saidhe,shakinghishead,“itismorehardformetogainobediencefromyouthanfromthetenscoredrunkenarcherswhofollowedmetoGuienne.Yet,hush!littleone,foryourfairlady-motherwillbehereanon,andthereisnoneedthatsheshouldknowit.Wewillkeepyoufromtheprovost-marshalthisjourney.Awaytoyourchamber,sweeting,andkeepablitheface,forshewhoconfessesisshriven.Andnow,