So saying, she rose to her feet. Ah! a footstep on the stone stair arrests her attention. Some spy upon her movements—she is discovered! Her heart beats feverishly, and she sinks to the ground with the day's carnage flitting indistinctly before her mental vision. Ah! what is that? The tall form of the Saxon chieftain is outlined in the dim light, and with a cry of uncontrollable delight, and with supernatural energy she bounds across the intervening space, and flings herself into his strong arms in sweet insensibility.
"You are my own now, sweetheart," said Oswald, folding her to his breast, and imprinting a kiss upon her cold brow. "You anxious one; whatever have you been doing? watching in this chill night air all alone, and so scantily clad too."
The ears into which he uttered his loving words were deaf; and the eyes into which he vainly strove to look were closed.
"Poor child," said he, "this is too bad."
Then he folded her tightly in his arms and rested his warm cheek against hers. Her eyes slowly unclosed, and for a moment she gazed up into his face. Then slowly they closed again, and a sweet smile passed over her features, the revulsion of feeling from despair to the joy of hope was delicious. Like a little child waking in agony from some horrid dream, and finding its mother's form bending over it, and forthwith dropping once more into sleep, and peace, and rest.
For a minute or two she was perfectly passive, whilst the new joy seemed to be saturating her whole being.
"I am so glad you have come," she said, rousing herself. "I was filled with most dreadful forebodings of disaster to you, to my father, and to all of us. Excuse my silence, but the joy was so great I could do nothing but quietly drink it in. This horrid day has nearly killed me. Even now I am more afraid of the future. After you fled the Abbot boldly charged my father with disloyalty, and with having planned the day's slaughter of his brother. His rage and his threatenings were dreadful to hear, for he vowed that he would forthwith lay the matter before the king."
"Fear not, dearest, the worst is past. Everything has this day been purged away in blood. I care not to think about it, much less to talk about it. But after all, only the barest justice has been done, and I know of nothing that calls for repentance. Has the Count retired to rest?"
"No. I fear there will be little rest for him to-night. I left him some time ago pacing his room in despair, and revolving in his mind various plans for frustrating the malicious intentions of the Abbot."
"Other hands have already frustrated the evil designs of that most wicked and loathsome representative of the Church. The avenger has met him face to face, and he is no more. Come, let us go down to the Count. I am the bearer of news which will make him look kindly upon even a Saxon outlaw. Come with me, one telling of the story will suffice."