Into that chamber we cannot follow them. The scene is beyond our power of description. It was Nature which had all the time been speaking in that stern father's heart, and now she had her way.
On the following morning a troop left Wallingford Castle for Reading Abbey. The Baron rode at its head, and by his side rode Osric. Through Moulsford, and Streatley, and Pangbourne—such are their modern names—they rode; the Thames on their left hand, the downs on their right. The gorgeous abbey, in the freshness of its early youth, rose before them. Would we had space to describe its glories! They entered, and Brian presented Osric to the Abbot.
"Here, my lord Abbot, is the soldier of the Cross whom thou didst enroll. He is lame as yet, from an accident, but will soon be ready for service. Meanwhile he would fain be thy guest."
The Abbot was astonished.
"What has chanced, my son? We wondered that thou didst not rejoin us, and feared thou hadst faltered."
"He has found a father, who restrained his freedom."
"A father?"
"But who now gives his boy to thee. Osric is my son."
The Abbot was astonished; as well he might be.