Today I noticed Alfgar, the son of Anlaf, at the high mass, and felt a little discomposed at the relaxation of discipline, which, contrary to the canons of the church, permits the unbaptized, as well as persons who ought rightly to be deemed excommunicate, or at least penitents, to be present at the holy mysteries.
But it is not this poor boy's fault that he is not a Christian, for I have seen him, and learned for a certainty the real state of his mind.
The way in which it came about was this. I marked that after service he entered the woods, as if he shunned the society of his fellow worshippers, and there I followed him, coming upon him at last, as if by accident, in a chestnut glade, the leaves of which strewed the ground--emblem of our fading mortality.
He started as he saw me, and at first looked as if he were inclined to fly my presence, but I gently addressed him.
"Dominus vobiscum, my son," I said. "I am pleased to see you sometimes at the minster church."
"I did not know I was noticed amongst so many," he replied.
"You mean, my boy, that you would sooner your presence were not observed. I can guess your reason too well."
He looked so sad, that I was sorry I had spoken precipitately, and a deep red blush suffused his dark countenance. He has a most attractive face--so thoughtful, yet so manly; his mother's gentle lineaments seem to have tempered the somewhat fierce and haughty bearing of his sire, as they meet in the countenance of their child.
My sympathy became so deep that I could not restrain myself and spoke out:
"My boy, will you not confide your troubles to me, for your dear mother's sake? Do you not remember how she commended you to my care? And never have I forgotten to pray daily that her God may be your God also."