"But we want to get to Wallingford Castle."
"No! no! brother: let us stay here," said the younger and milder boy; "think how every one hates us; that terrible day yesterday—oh, it was a terrible day! they treated us as if we had been mad dogs or worse."
"Yes, we will stay, father, at least for a while, if you will let us; we are not a poor man's sons—not English, but Normans; our father is——"
"Never mind, my child—gentle or simple is all one to God, and all one here. Did your father then send you to the lazar-house?"
"Yes, three years agone."
"And has he ever sought you since?"
"No, he has never been to see us—he has forgotten us; we were there for life; we knew and felt it, and only a week ago strove to drown ourselves in the deep pond."
"That was very wrong—no one may put down the burden of the flesh, till God give him leave."
"Do you think you can cure us?"