“But canst thou part with thine own son?”
“I would save him from a life of penury and even crime, and I can trust him to thee.”
“Oh, mother!” said the boy, weeping silently.
“Nay, Martin, we have often talked of this and longed for such a chance, now it is come—for thine own sake, my darling, the apple of mine eye; this good earl can be trusted.”
“Earl Simon,” she said, “I know thee both great and a man who fears God; yes, I know thee, I have long watched for such an opportunity; take this boy, and in saving him save yourself from captivity.”
“Tell me his name.”
“Martin will suffice.”
“But ere I undertake charge of him I would fain learn more, that I may bring him up according to his degree.”
“He is of noble birth, on both sides; how fallen from such high estate this packet—entrusted in full confidence—will tell thee. Simon de Montfort, I give thee my life, nay, my all; let me hear from time to time how he fareth, through the good monks of Michelham—thou leavest a bleeding heart behind.”
“Poor woman! yet it is well for the boy; he shall be one of my pages, if he prove worthy.”