"At all events I think that you should delay no longer, but should seek instruction and baptism, which we will afford you; and then, unless you really feel life is in danger, you should return to him and try to bear your lot; it may not be so hard as you think." "I am not afraid of death; but he is my father, and from his hands it would be hard." "He hates Christianity grievously then?" "He says it is the religion of cowards and hypocrites; that it forms a plea for cowardice when men dare not be men, and is thrown aside fast enough when they have their foes in their power." Alas! I could but feel how much reason the ill lives of Christians had given him to form this opinion, and of the curse pronounced upon those who shall put a stumbling block in their brother's way. The conversation of the Sheriff, Edric Streorn, rose up in my mind as an apt illustration of Anlaf's words. "My boy," I said, "there is nothing perfect on earth. In the visible church the evil is mingled with the good. Yet the church is the fold of the Good Shepherd, and there is salvation therein for all who love and serve their Lord, and strive humbly to follow His example, and those of His blessed Saints." "May I think over all you have said, and meet you next Sunday? You will be here, will you not?" And he looked imploringly in my face. Poor boy! my heart bled for him. So we parted, and he went home. Friday, November 11th.-- I feel thoroughly uneasy and anxious about the sheriff's proceedings. He has been about the neighbourhood today, and seems to have been talking secretly with all the black sheep of my flock; thank God, I do not think there are many. What they can be going to do, or what plot they are hatching, I cannot discover, only I fear that it is some design for vengeance upon the Danes--some dark treachery plotted against those in our midst; and, if such is the case, I can but feel uneasy for poor Alfgar. I wish the lad would leave his home, if but for a short time, until the signs are less threatening; but he would not forsake his father in danger, and I ought hardly to wish it. St. Brice's Day, Sunday, November 13th--