But it was drawing near midnight, and Cuthbert told them he had to meet Father Ambrose at that hour in the ruins of the Abbey.
“God preserve us,” said the old people together, “O mihi beate Martine;[52] men do say they are haunted.”
“Though as many ghosts were there as stones in the ruined pile, thither must I go.”
“Thou wilt see us once more, dear boy?”
“If possible; I will knock at the door when our work is done—that is if permitted to tarry; but of one thing be assured, that while I live my heart will ever beat true to its first love—the love of my foster parents.”
They embraced in silence amidst tears.
“The saints preserve him,” said the aged couple.
They did not retire to bed that night, it would have been a mere mockery of rest; they sat up and watched.
