“At a place where you will be in safety and well tended,” returned Peregrine. “You will be with me?” asked the child very anxious. And the Abbot waited for the answer. “Nay,” responded Peregrine. “I have further to travel. But you need have no fear. An’ I were not assured of your welfare I would not leave you. You will bide here.” There was finality in the words which the child did not gainsay. Too long had command been known to him for him to be unwitting of its tone. Peregrine felt him tremble in his arms, but no word came from his lips. The Abbot knocked upon the Mercy Door. It opened, showing a lay brother standing within. “Take the horse,” said the Abbot to him after a word of greeting. The brother departed with it, the Abbot turned to Peregrine. “You are determined to continue your journey?” “I am determined,” replied Peregrine briefly. “Ah, well,” returned the Abbot cheerfully, “God’s times are not always as ours. You will at least wait till I send food to you here. You have fasted long enough, methinks. Blackberries make but poor sustenance. You may rest assured of the boy’s welfare. You did good service when you rescued him. Farewell, my son, and God speed you on your quest.” He paused a moment, looked at him very searchingly. “An’ I were to prophesy,” he said smiling, “I should tell of your coming to your goal e’er long. Fare you well.” He passed across the courtyard, his hand on the child’s shoulder. Anon, with a well-filled wallet, Peregrine turned his back on Dieuporte, made his way adown the valley. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXIV AT DIEUPORTE E’ER we follow Peregrine in his further wanderings, it were well, methinks, to remain a brief space at Dieuporte. To leave on the instant the child committed by him to Abbot Hilary’s care, were to my mind to leave him somewhat summarily. An’ you are of my way of thinking, have found interest in the boy, you would know something of his further welfare. Having brought him to harbourage, it is restful to dwell a short time with him. You may be sure the child found the Abbey restful. In the first place, it held a rare atmosphere of sanity and homeliness. Herein it differed from the dwelling he had left as greatly as good wheaten bread differs from tainted dishes. In the second place, he experienced safety in the presence of the big Abbot and his colleagues. This he felt without fully realizing that he did so. His mind, hitherto tensioned to an unwholesome strain by the very evil will of Menippus, now found entire relaxation. He slept, ate, and slept again, his strength vastly recuperating thereby.