'I have known you all long years gone by. I forget not your kindness to the outcast hermit of Holy Wells, nor to your reception of his bones among you. Ye showed charity to me, also, on that pitiless night of my superstitious vow and vigil; but, though I see my errors in those things, the kindness of your fraternity shall not pass unacknowledged. It is but a short journey over the water to my walls. In them I have room for you all: and neither shall any want, though he may be deprived of everything, as long as the Manor of Freston can support you. Grieve not then, my aged friends, at the present diversion of your property. Ye shall enjoy the privilege of each other's society, even though I am not an advocate for monastic seclusion. Every man should learn to live alone, that he may know how best to enjoy the society of his fellow-creatures. I will go with you to your chapel, and consult further with you upon your future plans.' The fraternity were as much overcome by this generosity as they had been by the cruelties of their sudden ejection. They repaired to their chapel, spent an hour in devotion, and returned to talk over their miseries, and what they should do. Allen became as punctual in taking possession as he had been precise in his declaration of the law, and two days afterwards the monks of Alneshborne were located in the mansion of Lord De Freston. Theirs was, however, a merciful lot compared with the fate of hundreds who, at this time, became deprived of house, home, property, and comforts, which some had certainly greatly abused in every way, but which others had conscientiously preserved. No men were more sensitively alive to the beauties of scenery than these retired Augustines. It was curious to see them assembled in the fifth story of Freston Tower, watching the progress of vessels bringing Caen stone purchased with the property of their own monastery, to build the College of St. Peters'. One thing, and a good one, attended the change. The charity of Lord De Freston did not stop with receiving them into his hall, but he endeavored, and with some success, to cultivate their minds, and to bring them to the indulgence of some higher privileges than their cloistered seclusion had allowed. He acted the part of a good Samaritan, by pouring into their wounded minds an oil of such efficacy, that it led to the conversion of more than the Prior; and their banishment, as they first called it, became their freedom. They remained there until, by degrees, they found employment. One became a teacher in Wolsey's new school; another found a situation with the Abbots of Bury; a third went to Marseilles, another to Spain, another to Rome, until they gradually separated. But one, Prior John, died at Freston. He perfectly recovered from the infatuation of his early superstition, and for some time became the enlightened companion of the truly noble lord, who was his friend in the hour of need.