The soft green light under the trees seemed like the light of a sanctuary, and an awed look stole into Martin’s eyes. He followed Mellis in silence, nor did she speak to him, and all the while that great change was working in his soul. Here was something to serve, a thing of flesh and blood, nobler than any altar of stone. He felt that he could lay down his life for her, and that God Himself would not turn from such a sacrifice. From that moment Martin Valliant’s soul felt strong and calm in him. His eyes no longer looked back at the old life; he set his face steadily toward the future. Now Mellis knew nothing of all this, of the man’s uprising from the wounded horror of his blood-stained self. They had come to the high ground, above the Rondel, and could see the river glimmering in the green deeps below. It was time to eat and rest, and she called a halt. “Are you footsore, comrade?” “No; nor sore at heart.” She gave him a quick, searching look, and his face surprised her. It was serene, steadfast, and its eyes were very gentle. All that tangle of doubt and self-horror had been wiped away. She said nothing. He made a movement to take the horse’s bridle from her. “I will unload the horse and let him feed. There is a patch of grass there. Sit down and rest.” They looked into each other’s eyes. “Pain wearies the heart,” she said. “You shall ride the horse and I will carry the baggage.” “No, but you shall not.” “We will see,” he answered her. It was Martin who served. He unbuckled the horse’s bridle and made a tether of it, so that the beast could feed. Then he unloaded the baggage, opened one of the sacks, and took out bread, meat, and some wine. Mellis had thrown herself down under a beech tree where the moss was like a green carpet, and Martin served her with wine and bread. Her eyes met his with a new softness. Something had happened to Martin Valliant; he was a changed man. He offered her a new calm strength upon which she could lean, and in her loneliness her heart thanked him. She wanted to rest, to close her eyes for a moment, to let the burden of her fate lie for a moment on a man’s shoulders. He watched her eat, and forgot that he was hungry. She had to chide him. “No man is strong enough to go hungry. And there is much work to be done.” They sat and looked at the river flowing in the valley at their feet. Martin’s memories of yesterday were growing sacred; he hoarded them in his heart. “Yonder is the ford.” She pointed with her poniard. “It was wise of us to halt here. That might be a dangerous passage for us if enemies were near.” But no hostile thing showed itself; the river was like a silver dream in the green slumber of the woods. When they had finished their meal and rested awhile, Martin roped up the baggage and untethered the horse. “You will ride for an hour.” Mellis rebelled. “No; you cannot shoulder all that gear.” “Let us see.”