h the
sight of thee, and to tell thee that thy nephew, the true heir of
Walderne, lives, satisfied that thou wilt not now allow him to be
defrauded of his rights."

"Why not reveal thyself to my husband?"

"I cannot--at least not in this house; but in the morn, after I
have parted for Lewes. tell him all."

"And what proofs shall I give if he ask them?"

"Let him seek me at Lewes or, better still, refer to Simon de
Montfort, who is the guardian of the boy, and has him in safe
keeping at Kenilworth."

"Sybil," cried a voice.

"It is my husband. I must go. Farewell, dearly loved, unhappy
brother."

And she departed, leaving him alone in the chapel.

Hours had passed by, the inmates of the castle at Walderne all
slept, still as the sleeping woods around, save only the watchman
on the walls, for in those days of nightly rapine and daily
violence no castle or house of any pretensions dispensed with such
a guard.

Save only the watcher on the walls, and a lonelier watcher in the
chapel. For there, in the sanctuary his sister had erected, knelt
the returned prodigal, unknown to all save that sister. His heart
was full of deep emotion, as well it might be. And thus he mused:

"This chapel was not here in my father's time. There were few
lessons to be learnt then, save those of strife and violence. What
wonder that when he set me the example, my young blood ran too
hotly in my veins, and that I finished my career of violence and
riot by slaying the rival who stood in my path? Yet was it done,
not in cold blood but in fair fight. Still, he was my cousin, a
favourite of my sire, who never forgave me, but drove me from home
to make reparation in the holy wars. Then on the way to the land of
expiation I must needs again stain my sword with Christian blood,
and that on a day when it was sacrilege to draw sword.

"But I repent, I repent. O Lord, let the Blood which flowed on that
very day down the Holy Rood blot out my sins, atone for my
transgressions.

"Nay, he appears, as oft before, and stands before me as when I
transfixed him on the quay at Malta.

"Avaunt, unquiet spirit. My feet have pressed the soil hallowed by
the Sacred Blood. Avaunt, for I appeal from thy malice to God. Was
it not thou who didst provoke, and wouldst fain have slain me? What
was my act but one of self defence, defence first of honour, then
of life?"

Here he paused, as if listening.

"What dost thou say? I give thee rest. Let my son t