when once he had made sure that
his senses were not deceiving him, but that it was really little Roger,
whom he had long believed to be dead; and both he and his companion were
eagerly welcomed in and set down to a plentiful meal of bread and
venison pasty, whilst the boy told his long and adventurous story as
briefly as he could, Stephen listening with parted lips and staring
eyes, as if to the recital of some miraculous narrative.

And in truth the tale was strange enough, told in its main aspects: the
escape from Basildene, which to himself always partook of the nature of
a miracle, the conflict with the powers of darkness in the Monastery,
his adventures in France, and now his marvellous escape in the midst of
the plague-stricken people whom he had tended and helped. The ranger,
who had lost his own wife and children in the distemper, and had himself
escaped, had lost all fear of the contagion --indeed he cared little
whether he lived or died; and when he heard upon what errand the youths
were bent, he declared he would gladly come with them, for the solitude
of his cottage was so oppressive to him that he would have welcomed even
a plague-stricken guest sooner than be left much longer with only his
hounds and his own thoughts for company.

"If I cannot tend the sick, I can at least bury the dead," he said,
drawing his horny hand across his eyes, remembering for whom he had but
lately performed that last sad office. And Raymond, to whom this offer
was addressed, accepted his company gladly, for he knew by recent
experience how great was the need for helpers where the sick and the
dead so far outnumbered the whole and sound.

He had gone off into a reverie as he sat by the peat fire, whilst Roger
and the ranger continued talking together eagerly of many matters, and
he heard little of what passed until roused by the name of Basildene
spoken more than once, and he commanded his drowsy and wearied faculties
to listen to what the ranger was saying.

"Yes, the Black Death has found its way in behind those walls, men say.
The old sorcerer tried all his black arts to keep it out; but there came
by one this morning who told me that the old man had been seized, and
was lying without a soul to go near him. They have but two servants that
have ever stayed with them in that vile place, and these both thought
the old man's dealings with the devil would at least suffice to keep the
scourge away, and felt themselves safer there