When he recovered his senses, he was still in the cabin; the man whose life his father had attempted was bending over him, and sprinkling water on his face; and the clear voices of the women and children of the congregation were joining the voices of the men in singing the Agnus Dei.

“Look up at me without fear, Gabriel,” said the priest.  “I desire not to avenge injuries:  I visit not the sins of the father on the child.  Look up, and listen!  I have strange things to speak of; and I have a sacred mission to fulfill before the morning, in which you must be my guide .”

Gabriel attempted to kneel and kiss his hand but Father Paul stopped him, and said, pointing to the cross:  “Kneel to that—­not to me; not to your fellow-mortal, and your friend—­for I will be your friend, Gabriel; believing that God’s mercy has ordered it so.  And now listen to me,” he proceeded, with a brotherly tenderness in his manner which went to Gabriel’s heart.  “The service is nearly ended.  What I have to tell you must be told at once; the errand on which you will guide me must be performed before to-morrow dawns.  Sit here near me, and attend to what I now say!”

Gabriel obeyed; Father Paul then proceeded thus: 

“I believe the confession made to you by your grandfather to have been true in every particular.  On the evening to which he referred you, I approached your cottage, as he said, for the purpose of asking shelter for the night.  At that period I had been studying hard to qualify myself for the holy calling which I now pursue; and, on the completion of my studies, had indulged in the recreation of a tour on foot through Brittany, by way of innocently and agreeably occupying the leisure time then at my disposal, before I entered the priesthood.  When I accosted your father I had lost my way, had been walking for many hours, and was glad of any rest that I could get for the night.  It is unnecessary to pain you now, by reference to the events which followed my entrance under your father’s roof.  I remember nothing that happened from the time when I lay down to sleep before the fire, until the time when I recovered my senses at the place which you call the Merchant’s Table.  My first sensation was that of being moved into the cold air; when I opened my eyes I saw the great Druid stones rising close above me, and two men on either side of me rifling my pockets.  They found nothing valuable there, and were about to leave me where I lay, when I gathered strength enough to appeal to their mercy through their cupidity.  Money was not scarce with me then, and I was able to offer them a rich reward (which they ultimately received as I had promised) if they would take me to any place where I could get shelter and medical help.  I supposed they inferred by my language and accent—­perhaps also by the linen I wore, which they examined closely—­that I belonged to the higher ranks of the community, in spite of the plainness of my outer garments; and might,