Seven years had passed since Guido left his castle and sailed for the Holy Land. Day by day did Felicia minister to the poor and bestow alms on every applicant, with this one request, that they would pray for the safety of her husband, Sir Guido, and that once more before her death she might rejoice in his presence. Felicia stood at her castle gate, and the inner court-yard was filled with her poor pensioners. One by one she accosted them and bade her almoner give to each his accustomed alms. Her young son ran by his mother’s side.
“Mother, dear mother,” said the child, as he heard Felicia commend Sir Guido to the prayers of the poor men, “is it not my father for whom you ask these poor people to pray?”
“Yes, my child; seven years have passed since he left me; but a few months had we been married before God summoned him to the Holy Land, and he took the cross and went against the infidel.”
As she thus spoke to her son, Felicia drew nigh to a tall pilgrim who stood apart from the rest of the poor people. She gave him the alms, and asked of him his prayers for her husband’s return. Low bowed the pilgrim his head, but not a word did he speak as the lady passed onwards. Her son followed after Felicia; as he passed the pilgrim, he bowed himself forward and embraced the youth.
“God give thee grace,” said he with a trembling voice, “God give thee grace to do his will.”
“Thanks, father, for thy blessing,” said Felicia; “can I do aught to reward thy good wishes?”
“Lady,” said the pilgrim in a low, stifled voice, “I crave the small hermitage below the eagle’s rock; there let me live and die.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Felicia, “the eagle’s rock; art thou of this place, good father, that thou knowest the name so well?”
“I was of thy people once, fair lady; now I am God’s poor servant.”
“Be it as thou desirest; go, father, and pray for this house and its long-lost master.”