“Take comfort!” said Bernard, more kindly.
“I have it!” resumed the dame, eagerly, yet in subdued accents. “An’ I give thee that will establish young Clifford’s rights, wilt thou suffer him, who is now old, and near his time, to hold them till he depart?”
“By my soul, will I!” exclaimed Bernard. “But what canst thou give me will do this?”
“I will tell thee,” answered the dame; “yet first swear the offence shall be held secret!”
“I swear it, by the Lord!” said Bernard, devoutly.
“Old Master Clifford, as thou knowest, held his dame in lawful wedlock,” replied the dame, “but there is no record thereof in the parish book. The page that did record it was torn out.”
“Ah!” cried Bernard.
“Forbear a while,” pursued the dame. “’Twas torn from the book by—by him. The Enemy urged him to ’t; and in an evil hour, when the Lord had forsaken him, he sought to destroy it.”
“Is it lost?” cried Bernard vehemently.
“’Twas in the blue chamber,” continued the dame, in a less distinct and more tremulous voice; “and as he raised it to the lamp, the man Zedekiah, on some errand, called him to the door. The Lord put it into his heart to lay the folded paper on the table; and while he conferred with Zedekiah at the door, I caught it up, and placed in its stead one of no import. The change passed, and he burned the false paper.”