The mother and son lifted up Aliva's senseless form, and carrying her into the sacristy, laid her on the couch.
"Go thou now," said the Mistress Hodges, "and guard the chapel door, and I will see to the young lady. Praise be to our Lady, with warmth and care I shall yet bring her round."
The young man shut the door of the sacristy behind him, and crossing the chapel to the entrance, closed the heavy door and drew its strong oaken bar across it. He then took up his position against it, keeping a careful and patient watch.
The woman, left alone with Aliva, proceeded to treat her with maternal care; for had not the young lady herself once tended her when the fever ravaged the peasants' huts round Bletsoe Manor House?
She removed her wet garments and chafed her cold hands and feet. As she undressed her, she found, fastened round her waist, a wallet containing a small flask of cordial and some food, with which the good abbess of Elstow had provided Aliva for her journey. Mistress Hodges poured some of the wine down Aliva's throat, and she revived.
Delighted that her efforts had so far succeeded, the good woman redoubled her care. She even stripped herself of some of her rough but warm clothing, and wrapped it round Aliva, as she lay on the settle. Then she busied herself in drying and cleaning the soiled and dripping garments, for fortunately, in this room prepared for the priest who served the chapel, there was a good store of firewood.
Aliva lay watching her feebly, with the half-dazed gaze of returning consciousness.
"Thanks to our Lady and the blessed saints," she murmured at last in such weak voice, "that I have happed on you, good mother; else methinks the cold of this chapel might have finished the work the stream began."
"The saints forfend!" ejaculated the worthy woman. "But, lady," she added, her curiosity getting the upper hand, "might I crave your pardon, and ask how comes it that you are in a woful plight? They said in the village you had gone to the retreat at Elstow, which the venerable archdeacon--"
"Ah!" cried Aliva, "selfish wretch that I am, I had well-nigh forgotten him in my own trouble! Know you, good mother, that it was even as he and I were leaving the abbey of Elstow, on our return home, that this fierce company of De Breauté and his men rode down upon us. They scattered us as a hawk scattereth a flight of doves. I escaped by the lucky chance that my good genet can be stopped by no fence or dike in all this countryside. When I last saw my uncle, he was surrounded and closed in upon by the horsemen. I wot not what became of him."