"Oh, mother, I cannot tell you," answered Holgrave, turning away his face from her searching glance; "Oh, no, I cannot tell you!"
"Stephen, you were not used to answer me thus. I charge you, by the authority and love of thy mother, and in the name of the blessed saints, to tell me what has happened."
"Alas! my mother, you will know it soon enough. It is said you have—have—bewitched—or poisoned—the baron's son!"
"Oh, mother!" shrieked Margaret. "Fly!—to the abbey, and take sanctuary!"
"Margaret!" replied Edith, "I stir not hence. The guilty may take refuge from the anger of the laws; but it is not for the innocent to fear and fly like the felon!"
Margaret then threw herself at the feet of Edith, and besought her, in the most earnest and pathetic manner, to take refuge at Hailes Abbey, in which she was seconded by Holgrave. The old woman remained silent; but there was a brightness—a glistening in her eyes as if a tear had started;—but if a tear did start, it did not fall. At length, recovering her composure, she rose firmly from her seat—
"My son," said she, "lay down your arms, I command. Should my life be offered up to the vengeful spirit of Thomas Calverley, who alone can be the foul author of this charge, it will be only taking from me a few short years—perhaps days—of suffering. But thou hast years of health and life before thee, and thou hast this gentle weeping creature to sustain."
"What!" interrupted Margaret warmly; "Oh, no—the mother of Stephen Holgrave to be torn from us without a blow! Did he not fight for his lord? and shall he not risk his life for his mother?"
"And is this thy counsel, foolish woman?" replied Edith, in a tone of rebuke.
"She speaks my purpose," said Holgrave, as he grasped still firmer the poised weapon.