"Thou art, then, my uncle Wilfred I have so long been taught to
think dead, for whom I have prayed many a time, for whom countless
masses have been offered at St. Wilfred's shrine," said young
Edward.
"Thou hast not, then, been taught to hate me?"
"No, indeed," said the boy; "why should I?"
"He knows nought of the quarrel between us, save what it is fitting
that Edith's child should know," said Etienne. "It is well that
upon this holiest spot on earth, whence the Prince of Life uttered
the words which have floated through the ages--'Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do'--that Etienne de Malville and
Wilfred of Aescendune should become friends."
"It is, indeed."
"I have long been conscious that thou wast not alone to blame--that
thou hast to forgive as well as I; but thou, like myself, hast long
since, I am sure, earned the right to breathe the prayer, 'Forgive
us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.'"
Once more they grasped hands--Etienne still like one in a dream.
"Come now to my tent. There thou mayst tell me all the details of
thy story, and I will tell thee news, unless this boy, my son and
thy nephew, has anticipated me, of those thou didst leave behind
thirty years ago in England.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292