Etienne now felt these coals of fire.
He was not all pride and cruelty. His education had made him what he was, and probably, under the same circumstances, with such a father and the training of a Norman castle, many of my young readers who have detested his arrogance would have been like him, more or less.
"Their lot forbids, nor circumscribes alone,
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confines."
But now the generosity which lay hidden deep in his heart was awakened; the holy teachings which, in his childhood he had heard at his mother's knee--a mother who, had she lived, might have influenced his whole conduct--came back to him. There were many pious mothers, after all, in Normandy. Pity they had not better sons.
"Forgive us our trespasses."
The daily ministrations of the poor childless widow, whom he had made childless, were a noble commentary on these words.
"Mother," he said, one day, "forgive me--I have much to be forgiven--I cannot tell thee all."
"Nay, thou needst not; thou art forgiven for the love of Him who has forgiven us all."
For a long time yet he lingered a prisoner on his couch; for fever had so weakened him that he could hardly support his own weight.
But at length convalescence set in, and his strength returned; but he could only take exercise--which was now necessary to his complete recovery--when Father Kenelm was at hand to act as a scout, and warn him to retire in the case of the approach of any Englishman; for although he had adopted the English dress, yet his complexion and manner would have betrayed him to any observer close at hand.