CHAPTER XV. RESTORED TO LIFE.
Day after day Etienne de Malville tossed upon the couch in the hut
of the woman whom he had so cruelly bereaved, struggling against
the throes of fever. In his ravings he was prone to dwell upon all
the scenes of horror he had recently passed through, and yet some
Providence, intervening, kept from his lips the one revelation
which might have endangered his safety--that he was himself the
murderer of the son of his preserver.
Sometimes Father Kenelm visited the hut, and although in his heart
he deeply regretted that Etienne had not shared the fate of his
companions, yet he was too much a Christian to frustrate the good
deed of poor old Hilda, by revealing the secret of his existence.
At length, some weeks after the commencement of his illness, after
days of parching thirst and delirious dreams, Etienne woke one
morning, conscious, and gazed dreamily about him.
The crisis had passed; he was no longer in danger from the fever,
and his senses were clear of the terrible and shadowy impressions
which had hung about him like a gigantic nightmare.
"Where am I? Who are you?"
"He is conscious, father," said the old woman. "What does he say?"
for Etienne spoke in Norman French.
"Thou hast been in great danger, my son, and this good woman hath
saved thee and sheltered thee from thy foes.
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