"
"Wilfred alive!--nay, thou jestest. He died at Oxenford and was
buried there, nearly thirty years agone."
"Geoffrey, then Bishop of Coutances, deceived the lad's enemies by
a fictitious death and burial, but forbade the rescued youth to
return home, or make his existence known, save to me."
At this moment, the gleams, the parting beams, of the setting sun
shone upon pennon and upon lance, issuing from the wood afar off.
The multitude, who had assembled below, saw the sight, and rushed
tumultuously forward to meet their kinsfolk.
Hugh forgot the story about his uncle, ran down stairs, and joined
the throng, who pressed over the bridge.
Amidst the pomp of banners, the crash of trumpets, and the loud
acclamations and cheers of the crowd, the Crusaders reached home,
and entered the castle yard.
Edith fell into the arms of her lord as he dismounted, then sought
her son. She knew not to which to turn.
A grave personage, who studied hard to maintain his composure, but
whose eyes were filled with tears, had also dismounted, and was
standing by.
"Edith," cried Etienne, "behold our brother."
And she fell upon his neck with a torrent of tears, as all the life
of her childhood rushed upon her--"hours that were to memory dear.
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