“Rightly speaking,” said Peregrine smiling at the Abbot, “I know not myself. But assuredly ’tis one who has befriended you very well.”
The Abbot laughed, big-voiced and hearty. “I am one Hilary at your service, Abbot of Dieuporte,” said he. “Methinks ’twere well you both accompanied me thither, that this child may there gain rest from evident over-fatigue.”
This proposal fell well enough on Peregrine’s ears as far as it concerned the boy. For his own part he had yet further to travel, though he was willing enough to accompany them to the place, wherever it might chance to be. Keeping his own plans silent for the moment, however, he acceded readily enough to the Abbot’s suggestion. Picking up the boy again, the Abbot led the way back to his horse.
“Do you mount,” said he to Peregrine, “and take the lad before you. Methinks you, too, have done walking enough for the present.”
Here Peregrine demurred somewhat, being loth to take such summary possession of the other’s horse; but the Abbot pressed his point. Presently mounted they moved on at walking pace among the trees. Lulled by the movement the boy fell asleep, lying snug in Peregrine’s arms.
“An’ it be not impertinence,” said the Abbot, “might I ask whither you two were faring when I chanced on you?”
“’Tis no impertinence,” laughed Peregrine, “yet it is a question to which I can find no answer, since truly I knew not myself.”
“Hmm!” mused the Abbot, drawing down his eyebrows.
Peregrine, seeing the boy sleeping, now began to talk more openly.
“This child,” said he, “has been in the possession of a very evil scoundrel. It is true that I have been heartily gulled by him myself. Now I know him in his true colours, which are certainly very black and filthy. Two nights agone we made our escape from him; since, we have wandered the woods, eating blackberries to stay our hunger. I can fend well enough for myself. For the boy it is another matter. Therefore I see very clearly that Providence sent you in our path.”