"
Only a few more lines are needed to dismiss the heroes and
personages of our tale to rest.
Wilfred spent a few happy days with his brother-in-law cheered by
the society of his sister and her children.
Between him and Etienne all clouds had departed; they had learned,
amidst the perils of the return journey, to appreciate each other,
and wondered they had ever been such foes.
Once only he visited the Dismal Swamp, the scene of such exciting
events in his earlier life. He found it an utter wilderness, not a
house had been left standing; Etienne had wished to abolish the
very remembrance of the scenes in which, as his conscience told
him, he had acted so ill a part, and when he had succeeded in
persuading the English to trust him, and return to Aescendune, he
had fired the little hamlet and reduced it to ashes.
The brook murmured in solitude and silence, the birds sang
undisturbed by the strife of men.
The scene of Edwin's death from the arrows of Etienne's followers
could hardly be identified; but under the very tree where Pierre
had fallen in stern retaliation, Wilfred knelt, and besought pardon
for himself and rest for the soul which he had sent so hurriedly
before the judgment seat.
"Oh how much we had to forgive each other, Etienne and I," he said
half aloud.
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