But in spite of this resolution the good father discovered it all;
for while he read the sweet story of old, he heard a cry in Norman
French.
"Keep off the fiend--the hobgoblin--he has got burning
arrows--snakes! snakes! there are snakes in the bed!"
"What means this, good mother?"
"Oh, thou wilt not betray him."
"Hast thou a fugitive there? Methinks I know the voice. Can it be
the son of the wicked baron?"
"He is not answerable for his father's sin; oh, do not betray
him--he is mad with fever."
"Dost thou mean to release him, should he get well? Methinks it
were better that he should die."
"With all his sins upon his head? May the saints forbid."
"At least were he but absolved after due contrition, and thou
knowest that thou hast little cause to love him."
"His death cannot give me back my boy," and she wept once more.
"Nay, it cannot; but if thou dost save him, it shall be under a
solemn pledge never to betray the place of our retreat. I will
myself swear him upon the Holy Gospels. But woe to him should our
young lord Wilfred discover him; I verily believe he would die the
death of St. Edmund {xiii}."
"Canst thou not teach poor Wilfred mercy--thou art his pastor and
teacher?"
"He grows fiercer daily, and chafes at all restraint.
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