"His death cannot give me back my boy," and she wept once more.
"Nay, it cannot; but if thou dost save him, it shall be under a solemn pledge never to betray the place of our retreat. I will myself swear him upon the Holy Gospels. But woe to him should our young lord Wilfred discover him; I verily believe he would die the death of St. Edmund {[xiii]}."
"Canst thou not teach poor Wilfred mercy--thou art his pastor and teacher?"
"He grows fiercer daily, and chafes at all restraint. Remember what he has suffered."
"The greater the merit, could he but forgive. You will keep my secret, father?"
"I will: let me see him."
Father Kenelm went behind the curtain and watched the sufferer. Etienne glared at him with lacklustre eyes, but knew him not, and continued his inarticulate ravings. His forgiving nurse moistened his lips from time to time with water, and by him was a decoction of cooling herbs, with which she assuaged his parching thirst.
"Thou art a true follower of Him who prayed for His murderers," said Father Kenelm. "The Man of Sorrows comfort thee."
[CHAPTER XIV]. THE GUIDE.
Rarely had a spring occurred so dry as that of 1069. With the beginning of March dry winds set in from the east, no rain fell, and the watercourses shrank to summer proportions.