that he could distinctly see their faces, left him alone. He was in the
act of rising when the priest appeared, and beckoned him into the
sacristy.

"Remain here," the old man said, taking the youth by the hand.

"I must hurry home, Father," replied Gilbert; "my father will have no
peace, thinking the boar has killed me."

"Let him fret awhile; it is better he should lament you alive, than dead
by the serfs of Stramen."

"They dare not attack me!" exclaimed the youth; "they fear the Church
and my own arm too much for that!"

"Nay, peace!" rejoined the priest; "it is better not to expose them to
the temptation, or you to the danger."

The practicability of spending the night in security in the very teeth
of Stramen Castle had not occurred to Gilbert; he hesitated a second or
two, and then, as if all his plans and ideas had undergone a thorough
revolution, gracefully promised obedience.

"You are right, Father," he said; "and to speak truth, I am weary
enough. If you promise me protection to-night, I will gladly rest my
head wherever you place the pillow."

"Those who sleep with me," whispered his venerable adviser, "must
content themselves without a pillow. But I will promise you a safe
couch, though it is a hard one; the softest beds are not always the