now it does not seem so true--at least not with me."

The first feeling of friendliness and respect into which he had been
surprised was passing. He had fallen back into the mood of his
journey--mistrust, secrecy, resentment.

The priest caught the tone. His gray eyes under their bushy brows
looked kindly but searchingly at the soldier and smiled a little. He
set down his bag and leaned on his stick. "Well," he said, "I can tell
you one thing, my son. At all events it was not chance that brought me
here. I came with a purpose."

The soldier started a little, stung by suspicion. "What then," he
cried, roughly, "were you looking for me? What do you know of me? What
is this talk of chance and purpose?"

"Come, come," said the priest, his smile spreading from his eyes to his
lips, "do not be angry. I assure you that I know nothing of you
whatever, not even your name nor why you are here. When I said that I
came with a purpose I meant only that a certain thought, a wish, led me
to this spot. Let us sit together awhile beside, the spring and make
better acquaintance."

"I do not desire it," said the soldier, with a frown.

"But you will not refuse it?" queried the priest, gently. "It is not
good to refuse the request of one old enough to be your father. Look, I
have here some excellent tobacco and cigarette-papers. Let us sit down
and smoke together. I will tell you who I am and the purpose that
brought me here."