Suiting the action to the word, Master Hathaway took the inanimate body by the shoulders, and, drawing it before the fire, laid it along upon the hearth,—a ghastly object,—appearing, in the blazing light, the prostrate form of what had once been a tall strong man. The face was now, however, pinched and ghastly, and the limbs already stiffening.
The readiest remedy at hand being a portion of the hot cider, with the hissing crab in it, some was immediately poured down the throat of the prostrate wayfarer, whilst all hands set to work to draw off the heavy boots, and divest him of some of his outer garments, in order to rub and chafe his body. In the progress of this operation it became apparent that the person of the visitor had been exposed to all the vicissitudes of flood and field; since the mud frozen upon his outer garments, and the peat-moss which was incrusted upon his long boots, doublet, and torn belt, showed that he had wandered through more than one morass in his progress.
He was evidently a person of condition, as was apparent from his dress, which, torn and soiled as it was, proclaimed the rank of the wearer, by its fashion. He was completely armed too, having a long heavy sword in his belt, and poniard in his girdle.
"Ah!" said old Hathaway, as he gazed upon the man's face, after pouring a draught of hot cider down his throat; "I surely know that countenance."
"See, he's coming to," said Dame Hathaway; "he opens his eyes, aye, and his mouth too. Give him more liquor."
"'Tis so," said Hathaway, after regarding the prostrate form; "I thought I knew that face. Dame," said he, calling his wife aside, "this is a somewhat dangerous visitor, inasmuch as he is one whom it is considered treason to shelter."
"And who then is it, husband?" inquired the Dame.
"'Tis Eustace the priest," whispered Hathaway, "who used to lie up at Clopton, and through whom 'tis said the old knight got into so much trouble. His coming bodes no good to us, I fear."
"Gad be here" said Dame Hathaway, "that's ill tidings to give us on a twelfth-night, or rather morn. But be he priest or sinner, traitor or faitour, or whatever else he may turn out, we cannot do otherwise than help him in his present need."
"Right," said Hathaway; "we must shelter the man, that's certain."