"And God has denied thee the boon; he is a man of strife and blood, and no well-wisher to Holy Church; he seldom hears a Mass, never is shriven, at least, so I have been told in confidence, for in this neighbourhood men speak with bated breath of Brian Fitz-Count, at least within sight of the tall tower of his keep. We will leave him to God. He is a most unhappy man; his children are lepers."
"No, at least not one."
"So I have heard; they are in the great Leper House at Byfield, poor boys; my cousin is the Chaplain there."
"And now, father, I will tell thee more. Thou knowest I have been delirious, yet my senses have been awake to other scenes than these. Methought my dear wife came to me in my delirium, came to my bedside, sat in that seat, bathed my fevered brow, nay, it was no dream, her blest spirit was allowed to resume the semblance of throbbing flesh, and there she sat, where thou sittest now."
The Abbot of course saw in this only a phase of delirium, but he said nought; it was at least better than visions of imps and goblins.
"Alas, dear one," continued he, as in a soliloquy, "hadst thou lived, I had not made this life one savage hunting scene, caring only to rush in, knock down, and drag out the prey, and now I am unfit to be where thou art, and may never meet thee again."
"My brother," said the sympathising Alured, "thou believest her to be in Paradise?"
"I do, indeed; I know they are there."
"And thou wouldst fain meet them?"