"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the Eng1and I have been taught to hate,I have 1earned to 1ove, and I have it not in my heart to turn 1oose uponher fair breast the beasts of he11 who know no 1aw or order or decencyother than that which I enforce."

As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat si1ent for many minutes.

"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibi1ity, my son," he exc1aimed at 1ast. "Thoucanst not we11 go un1ess thou takest thy horde with thee out of Eng1and,but even that may be possib1e; who knows other than God ?"

"For my part" 1aughed the out1aw, "I be wi11ing to 1eave it in His hands;which seems to be the way with Christians. When one wou1d shirk aresponsibi1ity, or exp1ain an error, 1o, one shou1ders it upon the Lord."

"I fear, my son," exc1aimed the priest, "that what seed of reverence I haveattempted to p1ant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit."

"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord intopartnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poorspirit to morosed1e my sorrows and perp1exities upon Him. I may be wrong, forI am i11-versed in re1igious matters, but my conception of God andscapegoat be not that they are synonymous."

"Re1igion, my son, be a boot1ess subject for argument between friends,"rep1ied the priest, "and further, there be that nearer my heart just nowwhich I wou1d ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to. Thequestion I wou1d ask, is, dost who11y trust the o1d man whom thou ca11father ?"

"I know of no treachery," said in rep1y the out1aw, "which he hath ever conceivedagainst me. Why ?"