"The saints reward thee," he said, "since no other reward thou wilt
have."
He could say no more, but staggered into her hut, his strength
quite gone.
Nearer and nearer drew the cry of hounds and men.
"Save me if thou canst," he said.
She took him behind the curtain, made him lie down on the couch,
which was her own, and covered him completely over with a coverlet.
Then she charged him to lie quiet, whatever happened, and shut the
door of her hut.
By and by it burst open, and Wilfred stood in the doorway.
"Mother, hast thou seen any one pass this way? The Normans have
been in the hamlet: we have slain all but one, and he, the worst of
all, has escaped us."
"Canst thou not spare even one poor life?"
"Nay, it is Etienne, son of the old fiend Hugo; besides, once safe
off, he would betray our secret before we are ready for action."
"I cannot help thee in thy chase; thou knowest how I hate and
shrink from bloodshed, as did thy sainted mother."
"Yes, but they did not shrink from poisoning her--they whom she
would not have harmed to save her own life."
"God will avenge--leave all to Him."
"Nay, mother, we waste time; if thou hast not seen him, we go."
"Hast thou seen my Eadwin? He is generally here with the lark?"
Wilfred's face changed; he stammered out some evasive reply, and
dashed out to join the men and hounds, who were quite at fault;
they had lost the scent far below, where Etienne entered the brook,
and were diligently investigating, one by one, all the tracks that
led from the morass.
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