But Ralph barred the way.
"Whoever thou art, thou shall see to my lord first," he cried, in a resolute tone.
Seeing the fierceness of the youth, the old man quietly answered,--
"As thou wilt, my son; but thou shouldest respect youth, old age, and filial grief. But go thou and help the child, while I attend to thy lord."
Ralph, rebuked, did as he was told, there was such dignity, gentleness, and authority in the voice and manner of the tall stranger.
It was now very difficult to see. The moon had set, and the snow was falling fast, while the wind sighed mournfully through the withered boughs and twigs of the lonely thorn tree.
"May God have mercy on all dying souls!" murmured the dim shadow as it bent over the pale face of Lord Woodville; and Ralph could have sobbed aloud in anguish of heart as he felt his lord was dead.
"Oh, help me! help me! Master Lisle!" cried the agonised voice of the other stranger, shivering with cold and pain of heart. "Undo his helm or he will die, an he be not gone already," and a piteous sob of utter woe broke from the crouching figure.
Ralph, thinking only of his sorrow, did not notice the keen grief of the other, but he hastened up nevertheless, and speedily undid the helm.
"Oh, father! father!" sobbed the shivering voice; "speak, father!"