“The smuggler’s brat! the spawn of an outlaw!” the wretch broke in upon her.
“Fool! Fool! How long can he live?” she suddenly asked, turning from the litter to the priest, who stood nearest.
“Not many hours.”
“Then carry him in, and I must go with him. I have that to say which he must hear.”
“Ho! ho! Will ye tell them how ye tried to do the very work they shot me for attempting, Margery?”
“Yes, I’ll tell with all my heart. Don’t think I fear.”
“Don’t let her come! Don’t let her come!” the fallen chieftain howled. And he tried to speak further, but his strength failed him and pain overcame him.
Something in the woman’s look, in her manner, and in the sound of her voice attracted the earl’s attention and interested him, and he determined that she should have her way.
At any rate it should be as Percy said, and so he told her. And she besought her son to suffer her to go in with them, and he could not find it in his heart to refuse her.
They bore the litter to the foot of the steps of the main vestibule, and thence took the wounded man in their arms.