"Promises are slender food for an hungry stomach," cried the unbeliever.
"If the promise fail, blame thy dastardly fears, and not my
power. Thou shalt see the promised land thou shalt not inherit. Thy son shall receive the blessing."
The dean looked for a moment as though he could have fawned and supplicated for a reversion of the decree; but pride or anger had the mastery.
"And so," cried he, "thou findest thy predictions run counter to thy schemes, perdie; for thou dost mock me in them with a double sense."
"How, false one? Have I not wrought for thee? Hath not he, whose corpse now resteth in hope, overwhelmed thee with his favours through my counsel and contrivance? I owed thee a service, for thou wast my stay and sustenance when driven hither an outcast from the haunts of men. But thoughtest thou that I should pander to thy lust, and hew out a pathway to thy desire?"
"To me this!" said the covetous intruder, his voice quivering with rage.
"Yes, to thee, Robert de Whalley," replied the hermit: "because thou hast not leaped the last height of thine ambition, forsooth—because thou art not lord of these wide domains, through my interest and holy communion with the departed—and because I have not basely sold myself to thee, thou art offended. Beware lest the endowment be wrested from thy grasp, the glebe and manor pass away from thine inheritance."
"Thou hadst the privity and counsel of the deceased, and a whisper would have made it mine," said the dean, with great dejection.
"Greedy and unblushing as thou art, know it was I who counselled him, and the deed is in my keeping. I sent a secret message unto Halton with the news, and Roger de Fitz-Eustace will be here anon!"