"You are weak, mother," said he. "Hast journeyed far, I wot."

"From Wiltshire, friend," said she, in a quavering voice; "three
days have I been on the road. I go to my son, who is one of the
King's regarders at Brockenhurst. He has ever said that he would
care for me in mine old age."

"And rightly too, mother, since you cared for him in his youth.
But when have you broken fast?"

"At Lyndenhurst; but alas! my money is at an end, and I could but
get a dish of bran-porridge from the nunnery. Yet I trust that I
may be able to reach Brockenhurst to-night, where I may have all
that heart can desire; for oh! sir, but my son is a fine man,
with a kindly heart of his own, and it is as good as food to me
to think that he should have a doublet of Lincoln green to his
back and be the King's own paid man."

"It is a long road yet to Brockenhurst," said Alleyne; "but here
is such bread and cheese as I have left, and here, too, is a
penny which may help you to supper. May God be with you!"

"May God be with you, young man!" she cried. "May He make your
heart as glad as you have made mine!" She turned away, still
mumbling blessings, and Alleyne saw her short figure and her long
shadow stumbling slowly up the slope.

He was moving away himself, when his eyes lit upon a strange
sight, and one which sent a tingling through his skin. Out of