Late in the day, while Osric was walking on the ramparts, a page came after him and bade him hasten to the bower of the Lady Maude. The manner was urgent, and he went at once.
He found the lady in tears, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were standing on each side of her "curule" chair, endeavouring in vain to console her.
The Baron was striding up and down the spacious room, which, as we have said, overlooked the river.
"Read this, Osric," he said, and put a letter into his hands. "I can but half understand it."
Osric read. The letter came from the governor of the lazar-house, and contained a succinct account of the terrible visitation we have recorded in our last chapter.
"But our boys are at the hermitage, dame," said Brian; "they are safe; you need not weep."
Osric read on—how that the lepers had broken loose and taken to the woods. Then came the significant close: "So the neighbouring barons and knights of all degrees are gathering together their dogs, to hunt them in the woods; and I greatly fear lest harm happen to thy sons, who have been, with thy permission, left to the care of the hermit Meinhold, dwelling within the same forest."
It was a terrible thought to the poor mother: the affliction of her boys was the great burden of her life. Yet the customs of the age had required the sacrifice of her. She had been forbidden, perhaps it was kind, to visit them, lest the sight of their state should but increase her woe; but they were never long out of her thoughts.
"Husband! father! thou must go and protect them, or I will go myself."