sufficient dignity for that. A trifle of drink-money, perhaps, to the man who should run you down in the bog and cut your throat: no more."
"That is very bad news for me," replied Turlogh. "If it were otherwise, I would be asking you for that money, to place it there in the fire I have built in offering to my Lord Bishop. All that I had I have given, but it is not nearly enough. My Lord Bishop was mercifully spared the knowledge of the ruin and great calamities that have fallen upon us all. He died bequeathing large moneys to the poor, and a sum of the value of sixty cows for masses for his soul; and other sums for a grand tomb, and for needy scholars and the like; and I am pledged to carry out his will. His poor have been starved or murdered; his students are dispersed; out of charity the masses will be said in Spain and France, and other pious lands, whither our priests have fled. But I would not that any penny should be spared to the enrichment of his tomb. Yet if there be nothing more forthcoming, then there is an end to my task. And now my truce with you will be over, too."
The young Englishman looked at the tall pale old man in doubtful silence for a little.
"You are no better than a heathen, in your spiritual part," he said at last; "but I know not that you are a harmful rebel. Get you back to your Dunbeacon, as you call it, and take your motley ragamen with you, and swear an oath of loyal behaviour to Her Most Splendid Majesty before you go; and the truce—who shall say—it may last your lifetime. At the worst, it was your brother we wanted, not you."
Turlogh straightened his thin form, and stepped out to face the captain.
"They call me Tulogh of the Two Minds," he said, with a
