to which Ralph himself belonged, there were very odd tales being told; and it was beginning to be thought possible that monasticism had over-reached itself, and that in trying to convert the world it had itself been converted by the world.  Ralph was proud enough of the honour of his family to wonder whether it was an unmixed gain that his own brother should join such ranks as these.  And lastly there were the facts that he had learnt from his association with Cromwell that made him hesitate more than ever in giving Chris his sympathy.  He had been thinking these points over in the parlour the night before when the others had left him, and during the day in the intervals of the sport; and he was beginning to come to the conclusion that all things considered he had better just acquiesce in the situation, and neither praise nor blame overmuch.

It was a sleepy afternoon.  The servants had all gone by now, and the horn-blowings and noises had died away in the direction of the mill; there was no leisure for stags to bray, as they crouched now far away in the bracken, listening large-eyed and trumpet-eared for the sounds of pursuit; only the hum of insect life in the hot evening sunshine filled the air; and Ralph began to fall asleep, his back against a fallen trunk.

Then he suddenly awakened and saw his brother-in-law, black against the sky, looking down at him, from the saddle.

“Well?” said Ralph, not moving.

Nicholas began to explain.  There were a hundred reasons, it seemed, for his coming home empty-handed; and where were his men?

“They are all gone home,” said Ralph, getting up and stretching himself.  “I waited for you It is all over.”

“You understand,” said Nicholas, putting his horse into motion, and beginning to explain all over again, “you understand that it had not been for that foul hound yelping, I should have had him here.  I never miss such a shot; and then when we went after him—­”

“I understand perfectly, Nick,” said Ralph.  “You missed him because you did not shoot straight, and you did not catch him because you did not go fast enough.  A lawyer could say no more.”

Nicholas threw back his head and laughed loudly, for the two were good friends.

“Well, if you will have it,” he said, “I was a damned fool.  There!  A lawyer dare not say as much—­not to me, at any rate.”

Ralph found his man half a mile further on coming to meet him with his horse, and he mounted and rode on with Nicholas towards the mill.

“I have something to tell you,” he said presently.  “Chris is to be a monk.”

“Mother of God!” cried Nicholas, half checking his horse, “and when was that arranged?”

“Last night,” went on Ralph.  “He went to see the Holy Maid at St. Sepulchre’s, and it seems that she told him he had a vocation; so there is an end of it.”

“And what do you all think of it?” asked the other.