In the heart of the Forest of Seale
lay the little village of Birnewood Fratrum, like
a lark’s nest in a meadow of tall grass.
It was approached by green wood-ways, very miry in
winter. The folk that lived there were mostly
woodmen. There was a little church, the stones
of which seemed to have borrowed the hue of the forest,
and close beside it a small timbered house, the Parsonage,
with a garden of herbs. Those who saw Birnewood
in the summer, thought of it as a place where a weary
man might rest for ever, in an ancient peace, with
the fresh mossy smell of the wood blowing through
it, and the dark cool branching covert to muse in
on every side. But it was a different place in
winter, with ragged clouds rolling overhead and the
bare boughs sighing in the desolate gales; though
again in a frosty winter evening it would be fair
enough, with the red sun sinking over miles of trees.
From the village green a little track
led into the forest, and, a furlong or two inside,
ended in an open space thickly overgrown with elders,
where stood the gaunt skeleton of a ruined tower staring
with bare windows at the wayfarer. The story
of the tower was sad enough. The last owner,
Sir Ralph Birne, was on the wrong side in a rebellion,
and died on the scaffold, his lands forfeited to the
crown. The tower was left desolate, and piece
by piece the villagers carried away all that was useful
to them, leaving the shell of a house, though at the
time of which I speak the roof still held, and the
floors, though rotting fast, still bore the weight
of a foot.
In the Parsonage lived an old priest,
Father John, as he was called, and with him a boy
who was held to be his nephew, Ralph by name, now
eighteen years of age. The boy was very dear to
Father John, who was a wise and loving man. To
many it might have seemed a dull life enough, but
Ralph had known no other, having come to the Parsonage
as a child. Of late indeed Ralph had begun to
feel a strange desire grow and stir within him, to
see what the world was like outside the forest; such
a desire would come on him at early morning, in the
fresh spring days, and he would watch some lonely
traveller riding slowly to the south with an envious
look; though as like as not the wayfarer would be
envying the bright boy, with his background of quiet
woods. But such fancies only came and went, and
he said nothing to the old priest about them, who
nevertheless had marked the change for himself with
the instinct of love, and would sometimes, as he sate
with his breviary, follow the boy about with his eyes,
in which the wish to keep him strove with the knowledge
that the bird must some day leave the nest.
One summer morning, the old priest
shut his book, with the air of a man who has made
up his mind in sadness, and asked Ralph to walk with
him. They went to the tower, and there, sitting
in the ruins, Father John told Ralph the story of
the house, which he had often heard before. But
now there was so tender and urgent a tone in the priest’s
voice that Ralph heard him wonderingly; and at last
the priest very solemnly, after a silence, said that
there was something in his mind that must be told;
and he went on to say that Ralph was indeed the heir
of the tower; he was the grandson of Sir Ralph, who
died upon the scaffold; his father had died abroad,
dispossessed of his inheritance; and the priest said
that in a few days he himself would set out on a journey,
too long deferred, to see a friend of his, a Canon
of a neighbouring church, to learn if it were possible
that some part of the lands might be restored to Ralph
by the king’s grace. For the young king
that had newly come to the throne was said to be very
merciful and just, and punished not the sins of the
fathers upon the children; but Father John said that
he hardly dared to hope it; and then he bound Ralph
to silence; and then after a pause he added, taking
one of the boy’s hands in his own, “And
it is time, dear son, that you should leave this quiet
place and make a name for yourself; my days draw to
an end; perhaps I have been wrong to keep you here
to myself, but I have striven to make you pure and
simple, and if I was in fault, why, it has been the
fault of love.” And the boy threw his arms
round the priest’s neck and kissed him, seeing
that tears trembled in his eyes, and said that he
was more than content, and that he should never leave
his uncle and the peaceful forest that he loved.
But the priest saw an unquiet look in his eye, as of
a sleeper awakened, and knew the truth.
A few days after, the priest rode
away at sunrise; and Ralph was left alone. In
his head ran an old tale, which he had heard from the
woodmen, of a great treasure of price, which was hidden
somewhere in the tower. Then it came into his
mind that there dwelt not far away in the wood an
ancient wise man who gave counsel to all who asked
for it, and knew the virtues of plants, and the courses
of buried springs, and many hidden things beside.
Ralph had never been to the house of the wise man,
but he knew the direction where it lay; so with the
secret in his heart, he made at once for the place.
The day was very hot and still, and no birds sang
in the wood. Ralph walked swiftly along the soft
green road, and came at last upon a little grey house
of plaster, with beams of timber, that stood in a
clearing near a spring, with a garden of its own;
a fragrant smell came from a sprawling bush of box,
and the bees hummed busily over the flowers. There
was no smoke from the chimney, and the single window
that gave on the road, in a gable, looked at him like
a dark eye. He went up the path, and stood before
the door waiting, when a high thin voice, like an evening
wind, called from within, “Come in and fear
not, thou that tarriest on the threshold.”
Ralph, with a strange stirring of the blood at the
silver sound of the voice, unlatched the door and
entered. He found himself in a low dark room,
with a door opposite him; in the roof hung bundles
of herbs; there was a large oak table strewn with many
things of daily use, and sitting in a chair, with
his back to the light, sate a very old thin man, with
a frosty beard, clad in a loose grey gown. Over
the fireplace hung a large rusty sword; the room was
very clean and cool, and the sunlight danced on the
ceiling, with the flicker of moving leaves.
“Your name and errand?”
said the old man, fixing his grey eyes, like flint
stones, upon the boy, not unkindly. “Ralph,”
said the boy. “Ralph,” said the old
man, “and why not add Birne to Ralph? that makes
a fairer name.”
Ralph was so much bewildered at this
strange greeting, that he stood confused at
which the old man pointed to a settle, and said, “And
now, boy, sit down and speak with me; you are Ralph
from Birnewood Parsonage, I know Father
John is doubtless away he has no love for
me, though I know him to be a true man.”
Then little by little he unravelled
the boy’s desire, and the story of the treasure.
Then he said, kindly enough, “Yes, it is ever
thus well, lad, I will tell you; and heed
my words well. The treasure is there; and you
shall indeed find it; but prepare for strange sounds
and sights.” And as he said this, he took
the young hand in his own for a moment and a strange
tide of sensation seemed to pass along the boy’s
veins. “Look in my face,” the old
man went on, “that I may see that you have faith for
without faith such quests are vain.” Ralph
raised his eyes to those of the old man, and then a
sensation such as he had never felt before came over
him; it was like looking from a window into a wide
place, full of darkness and wonder.
Then the old man said solemnly, “Child,
the time is come I have waited long for
you, and the door is open.”
Then he said, with raised hand, “The
journey is not long, but it must be done in a waking
hour; sleep not on the journey; that first. And
of three things beware the Snake, and the
Leper, and the Grey Frost; for these three things
have brought death to wiser men than yourself.
There,” he added, “that is your note of
the way; now make the journey, if you have the courage.”
“But, sir,” said Ralph
in perplexity, “you say to me, make the journey;
and you tell me not whither to go. And you tell
me to beware of three things. How shall I know
them to avoid them?”
“You will know them when you
have seen them,” said the old man sadly, “and
that is the most that men can know; and as for the
journey, you can start upon it wherever you are, if
your heart is pure and strong.”
Then Ralph said, trembling, “Father,
my heart is pure, I think; but I know not whether
I am strong.”
Then the old man reached out his hand,
and took up a staff that leant by the chair; and from
a pocket in his gown he took a small metal thing shaped
like a five-pointed star; and he said, “Ralph,
here is a staff and a holy thing; and now set forth.”
So Ralph rose, and took the staff and the star, and
made a reverence, and murmured thanks; and then he
went to the door by which he had entered; but the old
man said, “Nay, it is the other door,”
and then he bent down his head upon his arms like
one who wept.
Ralph went to the other door and opened
it; he had thought it led into the wood; but when
he opened it, it was dark and cold without; and suddenly
with a shock of strange terror he saw that outside
was a place like a hill-top, with short strong grass,
and clouds sweeping over it. He would have drawn
back, but he was ashamed; so he stepped out and closed
the door behind him; and then the house was gone in
a moment like a dream, and he was alone on the hill,
with the wind whistling in his ears.
He waited for a moment in the clutch
of a great fear; but he felt he was alive and well,
and little by little his fear disappeared and left
him eager. He went a few steps forward, and saw
that the hill sloped downward, and downward he went,
by steep slopes of turf and scattered grey stones.
Presently the mist seemed to blow thinner, and through
a gap he saw a land spread out below him; and soon
he came out of the cloud, and saw a lonely forest
country, all unlike his own, for the trees seemed
a sort of pine, with red stems, very tall and sombre.
He looked round, and presently he saw that a little
track below him seemed to lead downward into the pines,
so he gained the track; and soon he came down to the
wood.
There was no sign as yet of any habitation;
he heard the crying of birds, and at one place he
saw a number of crows that stood round something white
that lay upon the ground, and pecked at it; and he
turned not aside, thinking, he knew not why, that there
was some evil thing there. But he did not feel
alone, and he had a thought which dwelt with him that
there were others bound upon the same quest as himself,
though he saw nothing of them. Once indeed he
thought he saw a man walking swiftly, his face turned
away, among the pines; but the trees blotted him from
his sight. Then he passed by a great open marsh
with reeds and still pools of water, where he wished
to rest; but he pushed on the faster, and suddenly,
turning a corner, saw that the track led him straight
to a large stone house, that stood solitary in the
wood. He knew in a moment that this was the end
of his journey, and marvelled within himself at the
ease of the quest; he went straight up to the house,
which seemed all dark and silent, and smote loudly
and confidently on the door; some one stirred within,
and it was presently opened to him. He thought
now that he would be questioned, but the man who opened
to him, a grave serving-man, made a motion with his
hand, and he went up a flight of stone steps.
As he went up, there came out from
a door, as though to meet him with honour, a tall
and noble personage, very cheerful and comely, and
with a courteous greeting took him into a large room
richly furnished; Ralph began to tell his story, but
the man made a quiet gesture with his hand as though
no explanation was needed, and went at once to a press,
which he opened, and brought out from it a small coffer,
which seemed heavy, and opened it before him; Ralph
could not see clearly what it contained, but he saw
the sparkle of gold and what seemed like jewels.
The man smiled at him, and as though in reply to a
question said, “Yes, this is what you came to
seek; and you are well worthy of it; and my lord” he
bowed as he spoke “is glad to bestow
his riches upon one who found the road so easy hither,
and who came from so honoured a friend.”
Then he said very courteously that he would willingly
have entertained him, and shown him more of the treasures
of the house; “but I know,” he added,
“that your business requires haste and you would
be gone;” and so he conducted him very gently
down to the door again, and presently Ralph was standing
outside with the precious coffer under his arm, wondering
if he were not in a dream; because he had found what
he sought so soon, and with so little trouble.
The porter stood at the door, and
said in a quiet voice, “The way is to the left,
and through the wood.” Ralph thanked him,
and the porter said, “You know, young sir, of
what you are to beware, for the forest has an evil
name?” And when Ralph replied that he knew, the
porter said that it was well to start betimes, because
the way was somewhat long. So Ralph went out
along the road, and saw the porter standing at the
door for a long time, watching him, he thought, with
a kind of tender gaze.
Ralph took the road that led to the
left, very light-hearted; it was pleasant under the
pines, which had made a soft brown carpet of needles;
and the scent of the pine-gum was sharp and sweet.
He went for a mile or two thus, while the day darkened
above him, and the wind whispered like a falling sea
among the branches. At last he came to another
great marsh, but a path led down to it from the road,
and in the path were strange marks as though some
heavy thing had been dragged along, with footprints
on either side. Ralph went a few steps down the
path, when suddenly an evil smell passed by him; he
had been thinking of a picture in one of Father John’s
books of a man fighting with a dragon, and the brave
horned creature, with its red mouth and white teeth,
with ribbed wings and bright blue burnished mail, and
a tail armed with a sting, had seemed to him a curious
and beautiful sight, that a man might well desire
to see; the thought of danger was hardly in his heart.
Suddenly he heard below him in the
reeds a great routing and splashing; the rushes parted,
and he saw a huge and ugly creature, with black oily
sides and a red mane of bristles, raise itself up and
regard him. Its sides dropped with mud, and its
body was wrapped with clinging weeds. But it
moved so heavily and slow, and drew itself out on
to the bank with such pain, that Ralph saw that there
was little danger to one so fleet as himself, if he
drew not near. The beast opened its great mouth,
and Ralph saw a blue tongue and a pale throat; it
regarded him hungrily with small evil eyes; but Ralph
sprang backwards, and laughed to see how lumberingly
the brute trailed itself along. Its hot and fetid
breath made a smoke in the still air; presently it
desisted, and as though it desired the coolness, it
writhed back into the water again. And Ralph saw
that it was only a beast that crept upon its prey
by stealth, and that though if he had slept, or bathed
in the pool, it might have drawn him in to devour
him, yet that one who was wary and active need have
no fear; so he went on his way; and blew out great
breaths to get the foul watery smell of the monster
out of his nostrils.
Suddenly he began to feel weary; he
did not know what time of day it was in this strange
country, where all was fresh like a dewy morning;
he had not seen the sun, though the sky was clear,
and he fell to wondering where the light came from;
as he wondered, he came to a stone bench by the side
of the road where he thought he would sit a little;
he would be all the fresher for a timely rest; he sate
down, and as though to fill the place with a heavenly
peace, he heard at once doves hallooing in the thicket
close at hand; while he sate drinking in the charm
of the sound, there was a flutter of wings, and a
dove alighted close to his feet; it walked about crooning
softly, with its nodding neck flashing with delicate
colours, and its pink feet running swiftly on the
grass. He felt in his pocket and found there
a piece of bread which he had taken with him in the
morning and had never thought of tasting; he crumbled
it for the bird, who fell to picking it eagerly and
gratefully, bowing its head as though in courteous
acknowledgment. Ralph leant forwards to watch
it, and the ground swam before his weary eyes.
He sate back for a moment, and then he would have
slept, when he saw a small bright thing dart from a
crevice of the stone seat on to his knee. He bent
forward to look at it, and saw that it was a thing
like a lizard, but without legs, of a powdered green,
strangely bright. It nestled on his knee in a
little coil and watched him with keen eyes. The
trustfulness of these wild creatures pleased him wonderfully.
Suddenly, very far away and yet near him, he heard
the sound of a voice, like a man in prayer; it reminded
him, he knew not why, of the Wise Man’s voice,
and he rose to his feet ashamed of his drowsiness.
The little lizard darted from his leg and on to the
ground, as though vexed to be disturbed, and he saw
it close to his feet. The dove saw it too, and
went to it as though inquiringly; the lizard showed
no fear, but coiled itself up, and as the dove came
close, made a little dart at its breast, and the dove
drew back. Ralph was amused at the fearlessness
of the little thing, but in a moment saw that something
ailed the dove; it moved as though dizzy, and then
spread its wings as if for flight, but dropped them
again and nestled down on the ground. In a moment
its pretty head fell forwards and it lay motionless.
Then with a shock of fear Ralph saw that he had been
nearly betrayed; that this was the Snake itself of
which he had been warned; he struck with his staff
at the little venomous thing, which darted forward
with a wicked hiss, and Ralph only avoided it with
a spring. Then without an instant’s thought
he turned and ran along the wood-path, chiding himself
bitterly for his folly. He had nearly slept;
he had only not been stung to death; and he thought
of how he would have lain, a stiffening figure, till
the crows gathered round him and pulled the flesh
from his bones.
After this the way became more toilsome;
the track indeed was plain enough, but it was strewn
with stones, and little thorny plants grew everywhere,
which tripped his feet and sometimes pierced his skin;
it grew darker too, as though night were coming on.
Presently he came to a clearing in the forest; on
a slope to his right hand, he saw a little hut of
boughs, with a few poor garden herbs about it.
A man was crouched among them, as though he were digging;
he was only some thirty paces away; Ralph stopped
for a moment, and the man rose up and looked at him.
Ralph saw a strangely distorted face under a hairless
brow. There were holes where the eyes should have
been, and in these the eyes were so deeply sunk that
they looked but like pits of shade. Presently
the other began to move towards him, waving a large
misshapen hand which gleamed with a kind of scurfy
whiteness; and he cried out unintelligible words,
which seemed half angry, half piteous. Ralph
knew that the Leper was before him, and though he loathed
to fly before so miserable a wretch, he turned and
hurried on into the forest; the creature screamed
the louder, and it seemed as though he were asking
an alms, but he hobbled so slowly on his thick legs,
foully bandaged with rags, that Ralph soon distanced
him, and he heard the wretch stop and fall to cursing.
This sad and fearful encounter made Ralph sick at
heart; but he strove to thank God for another danger
escaped, and hastened on.
Gradually he became aware by various
signs that he was approaching some inhabited place;
all at once he came upon a fair house in a piece of
open ground, that looked to him at first so like the
house of the treasure, that he thought he had come
back to it. But when he looked more closely upon
it, he saw that it was not the same; it was somewhat
more meanly built, and had not the grave and solid
air that the other had; presently he heard a sound
of music, like a concert of lutes and trumpets, which
came from the house, and when it ceased there was
clapping of hands.
While he doubted whether to draw near,
he saw that the door was opened, and a man, richly
dressed and of noble appearance, came out upon the
space in front of the house. He looked about him
with a grave and serene air, like a prince awaiting
guests. And his eyes falling upon Ralph, he beckoned
him to draw near. Ralph at first hesitated.
But it seemed to him an unkindly thing to turn his
back upon this gallant gentleman who stood there smiling;
so he drew near. And then the other asked him
whither he was bound. Ralph hardly knew what to
reply to this, but the gentleman awaited not his answer,
but said that this was a day of festival, and all
were welcome, and he would have him come in and abide
with them. Ralph excused himself, but the gentleman
smiled and said, “I know, sir, that you are bound
upon a journey, as many are that pass this way; but
you carry no burden with you, as is the wont of others.”
And then Ralph, with a start of surprise and anguish,
remembered that he had left his coffer on the seat
where he had seen the Snake. He explained his
loss to the gentleman, who laughed and said that this
was easily mended, for he would send himself a servant
to fetch it. And then he asked whether he had
been in any peril, and when Ralph told him, he nodded
his head gravely, and said it was a great danger escaped.
And then Ralph told him of the Leper, at which the
gentleman grew grave, and said that it was well he
had not stopped to speak with him, for the contagion
of that leprosy was sore and sudden. And then
he added, “But while I send to recover your
coffer, you will enter and sit with us; you look weary,
and you shall eat of our meat, for it is good meat
that strengtheneth; but wine,” he said, “I
will not offer you, though I have it here in abundance,
for it weakeneth the knees of those that walk on a
journey; but you shall delight your heart with music,
such as the angels love, and set forth upon your way
rejoicing; for indeed it is not late.”
And so Ralph was persuaded, and they
drew near to the door. Then the gentleman stood
aside to let Ralph enter; and Ralph saw within a hall
with people feasting, and minstrels in a gallery; but
just as he set foot upon the threshold he turned;
for it seemed that he was plucked by a hand; and he
saw the gentleman, with the smile all faded from his
face, and his robe had shifted from his side; and Ralph
saw that his side was swollen and bandaged, and then
his eye fell upon the gentleman’s knee, which
was bare, and it was all scurfed and scarred.
And he knew that he was in the hands of the Leper himself.
He drew back with a shudder, but the
gentleman gathered his robe about him, and said with
a sudden sternness, “Nay, it were discourteous
to draw back now; and indeed I will compel you to
come in.” Then Ralph knew that he was betrayed;
but he bethought him of the little star that he carried
with him, and he took it out and held it before him,
and said, “Here is a token that I may not halt.”
And at that the gentleman’s face became evil,
and he gnashed with his teeth, and moved towards him,
as though to seize him. But Ralph saw that he
feared the star. So he went backwards holding
it forth; and as the Leper pressed upon him, he touched
him with the star; and at that the Leper cried aloud,
and ran within the house; and there came forth a waft
of doleful music like a dirge for the dead.
Then Ralph went into the wood and
stood there awhile in dreadful thought; but it came
into his mind that there could be no turning back,
and that he must leave his precious coffer behind,
“and perhaps,” he thought, “the
Wise Man will let me adventure again.” So
he went on with a sad and sober heart, but he thanked
God as he went for another danger hardly escaped.
And it grew darker now; so dark that
he often turned aside among the trees; till at last
he came out on the edge of the forest, and knew that
he was near the end. In front of him rose a wide
hillside, the top of which was among the clouds; and
he could see the track faintly glimmering upwards
through the grass; the forest lay like a black wall
behind him, and he was now deathly weary of his journey,
and could but push one foot before the other.
But for all his weariness he felt
that it grew colder as he went higher; he gathered
his cloak around him, but the cold began to pierce
his veins; so that he knew that he was coming to the
Grey Frost, and how to escape from it he knew not.
The grass grew crisp with frost, and the tall thistles
that grew there snapped as he touched them. By
the track there rose in several places tall tussocks
of grass, and happening to pass close by one of these,
he saw something gleam white amid the grass; so he
looked closer upon it, and then his heart grew cold
within him, for he saw that the grass grew thick out
of the bones of a skeleton, through the white ribs
and out of the sightless eyes. And he saw that
each of the tussocks marked the grave of a man.
Then he came higher still, and the
ground felt like iron below his feet; and over him
came a dreadful drowsiness, till his only thought
was to lie down and sleep; his breath came out like
a white cloud and hung round him, and yet he saw the
hill rising in front. Then he marked something
lie beside the track; and he saw that it was a man
down upon his face, wrapped in a cloak. He tried
to lift him up, but the body seemed stiff and cold,
and the face was frozen to the ground; and when he
raised it the dirt was all hard upon the face.
So he left it lying and went on. At last he could
go no farther; all was grey and still round him, covered
with a bleak hoar-frost. To left and right he
saw figures lying, grey and frozen, so that the place
was like a battlefield; and still the mountain towered
up pitilessly in front; he sank upon his knees and
tried to think, but his brain was all benumbed.
Then he put his face to the ground, and his breath
made a kind of warmth about him, while the cold ate
into his limbs; but as he lay he heard a groan, and
looking up he saw a figure that lay close to the track
rise upon its knees and sink down again.
So Ralph struggled again to his feet
with the thought that if he must die he would like
to die near another man; and he came up to the figure;
and he saw that it was a boy, younger than himself,
wrapped in a cloak. His hat had fallen off, and
he could see his curls all frosted over a cheek that
was smooth and blue with cold. By his side lay
a little coffer and a staff, like his own. And
Ralph, speaking with difficulty through frozen lips,
said, “And what do you here? You are too
young to be here.” The other turned his
face upon him, all drawn with anguish, and said, “Help
me, help me; I have lost my way.” And Ralph
sate down beside him and gathered the boy’s body
into his arms; and it seemed as though the warmth
revived him, for the boy looked gratefully at him
and said, “So I am not alone in this dreadful
place.”
Then Ralph said to him that there
was no time to be lost, and that they were near their
end. “But it seems to me,” he added,
“that a little farther up the grass looks greener,
as if the cold were not so bitter there; let us try
to help each other a few paces farther, if we may
avoid death for a little.” So they rose
slowly and painfully, and now Ralph would lead the
boy a step or two on; and then he would lean upon
the boy, who seemed to grow stronger, for a pace or
two; till suddenly it came into Ralph’s mind
that the cold was certainly less; and so like two
dying men they struggled on, step by step, until the
ground grew softer under their feet and the grass darker,
and then, looking round, Ralph could see the circle
of the Grey Frost below them, all white and hoary
in the uncertain light.
Presently they struggled out on to
a ridge of the long hill; and here they rested on
their staves, and talked for a moment like old friends;
and the boy showed Ralph his coffer, and said, “But
you have none?” And Ralph shook his head and
said, “Nay, I left it on the seat of the Snake.”
And then Ralph asked him of the Leper’s house,
and the boy told him that he had seen it indeed, but
had feared and made a circuit in the wood, and that
he had there seen a fearful sight; for at the back
of the Leper’s house was a cage, like a kennel
of hounds, and in it sate a score of wretched men
with their eyes upon the ground, who had wandered
from the way; and that he had heard a barking of dogs,
and men had come out from the house, but that he had
fled through the woods.
While they thus talked together, Ralph
saw that hard by them was a rock, and in the rock
a hole like a cave; so he said to the boy, “Let
us stand awhile out of the wind; and then will we set
out again.” So the boy consented; and they
came to the cave; but Ralph wondered exceedingly to
see a door set in the rock-face; and he put out his
hand and pulled the door; and it opened; and a voice
from within called him by name.
Then in a moment Ralph saw that he
was in the house of the Wise Man, who sate in his
chair, regarding him with a smile, like a father welcoming
a son. All seemed the same; and it was very grateful
to Ralph to see the sun warm on the ceiling, and to
smell the honeyed air that came in from the garden.
Then he went forward, and fell on
his knees and laid the staff and the star down, and
would have told the Wise Man his tale; but the Wise
Man said, “Went not my heart with thee, my son?”
Then Ralph told him how he had left
his treasure, expecting to be chidden. But the
Wise Man said, “Heed it not, for thou hast a
better treasure in thy heart.”
Then Ralph remembered that he had
left his companion outside, and asked if he might
bring him in; but the Wise Man said, “Nay, he
has entered by another way.” And presently
he bade Ralph return home in peace, and blessed him
in a form of words which Ralph could not afterwards
remember, but it sounded very sweet. And Ralph
asked whether he might come again, but the Wise Man
said, “Nay, my son.”
Then Ralph went home in wonder; and
though the journey had seemed very long, he found
that it was still morning in Birnewood.
Then he returned to the Parsonage;
and the next day Father John returned, and told him
that the lands would be restored to him; and as they
talked, Father John said, “My son, what new thing
has come to you? for there is a light in your eye
that was not lit before.” But Ralph could
not tell him.
So Ralph became a great knight, and
did worthily; and in his hall there hang three pictures
in one frame; to the left is a little green snake
on a stone bench; to the right a leprous man richly
clad; and in the centre a grey mist, with a figure
down on its face. And some folk ask Ralph to
explain the picture, and he smiles and says it is a
vision; but others look at the picture in a strange
wonder, and then look in Ralph’s face, and he
knows that they understand, and that they too have
been to the Country of Dreams.