Here he sighed heavily.
"Elfwyn," I said, "my brother, we must not be ungrateful to God. Here are ruins indeed, but they cover no dead bodies; all have escaped."
"No, Cuthbert, not all."
I was silent, for I thought of Bertric.
"We have buried him, Cuthbert, in God's peace, in the place he hallowed by his blood."
I saw the tears stream down his manly cheeks. My voice grew so hoarse, somehow, that I could not ask a question.
"I will tell you all we have seen by and by, not now. I could not bear it;" and he covered his face with his hands.
"How did he die?" I stammered at last.
"Like St. Edmund."
I asked no more, but I hope the martyr will forgive me the tears I shed. I know I ought to rejoice that he has gained his crown, but I cannot yet. I shall be able some day.