"Yes; especially the good monks of Dorchester."
"What do they know of my grandfather?"
Judith pursed up her lips, as much as to say, "That is my secret, and if you had brought the thumb-screws, of which you know the use too well, you should not get it out of me."
"Osric," said a deep, yet feeble voice.
The youth returned to the bedside.
"Osric, I am dying. They say the tongues of dying men speak sooth, and it may be because, as the gates of eternity open before them, the vanities of earth disappear. Now I have a last message to leave for you, a tale to unfold before I die, which cannot fail of its effect upon your heart. It is the secret entrusted to me when you were brought an infant to this hut, which I was forbidden to unfold until you had gained years of discretion. It may be, my dear child, you have not yet gained them—I trow not, from what I hear."
"What harm have mine enemies told of me?"
"That thou shalt hear by and by; meanwhile let me unfold my tale, for the sands of life are running out. It was some seventeen years ago this last autumn, that thy father——"
"Who was he—thou hast ever concealed his name?"