and fainter, as Brother Benedict bore the message from Baron
Conrad to Abbot Otto, and the mail-clad figure was left alone,
sitting there as silent as a statue.

By and by the footsteps sounded again; there came a noise of
clattering chains and the rattle of the key in the lock, and the
rasping of the bolts dragged back. Then the gate swung slowly
open, and Baron Conrad rode into the shelter of the White Cross,
and as the hoofs of his war-horse clashed upon the stones of the
courtyard within, the wooden gate swung slowly to behind him.

Abbot Otto stood by the table when Baron Conrad entered the
high-vaulted room from the farther end. The light from the oriel
window behind the old man shed broken rays of light upon him,
and seemed to frame his thin gray hairs with a golden glory. His
white, delicate hand rested upon the table beside him, and upon
some sheets of parchment covered with rows of ancient Greek
writing which he had been engaged in deciphering.

Clank ! clank! clank ! Baron Conrad strode across the stone
floor, and then stopped short in front of the good old man.

"What dost thou seek here, my son ?" said the Abbot.

"I seek sanctuary for my son and thy brother's grandson," said
the Baron Conrad, and he flung back the folds of his cloak and
showed the face of the sleeping babe.

For a while the Abbot said nothing, but stood gazing dreamily at
the baby. After a while he looked up. "And the child's mother,"