The priory was rebuilt, as well as the castle, and occupied by Benedictine monks of both races; but unlike most other monasteries, it had an English prior. Lanfranc had appointed Father Kenelm, at Etienne's earnest request, in grat.i.tude for events in which that good father had borne his part in the Dismal Swamp. This appointment, more than aught else, reconciled the English to Norman rule.

At first Edith feared her new lord, whom she had been compelled to marry, remembering the sadness of her mother's married life; but his persistent kindness won her heart; and after the birth of young Edward, whom we have introduced to our readers, all restraint was removed, and they were as happy a pair as need be.

Their children were taught to converse in both tongues--Old English and Norman French--and to treat all alike, the kinsfolk of father or of mother.

Putting together the details given by Edward of Aescendune to the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, and these few outlines of intervening events, our readers will have little difficulty in understanding the history of the thirty years.

Within her bower (as we have said) was the lady of Aescendune.

Seated in an embrasure of the lofty tower in which her rooms were situate, her attention became fixed upon a horseman, who was riding swiftly towards the castle from the direction of Warwick.

"I wonder," thought she, "whether this be a messenger from--" and then she checked the thought, as though it must end in disappointment.

For months she had not heard from the absent ones. She knew Jerusalem was taken; but if any letters had been sent, they had miscarried--no unlikely circ.u.mstance in those days.

The messenger reached the castle.

Soon steps were heard ascending the stairs with such precipitate haste, that the lady felt sure that some important tidings had arrived.

Young Hugh--an active, fresh-coloured boy, with his Father's features, tempered by the softer expression of his mother, perhaps--bounded into the room.

"Oh, mother! lady mother!--letters from father, about him and Edward. The man below is old Tristam--you remember Tristam who went to the wars. They have landed, landed, and are upon the road home.

Oh! happy day. Tristam was sent forward. Read,--only read."

She was as pale as death, and fainting from the sudden shock.

Excess of joy has its dangers.

Her two girls, Margaret and Hilda, had followed their brother, and their gentle care soon restored her: but the shock had been great.

"Read, mother,--read," said Hugh.

The accomplishments of reading and writing--for they were accomplishments then--were possessed both by husband and wife.

We will give but one paragraph in the letter:

We have landed safely at Southampton, my own Edith. G.o.d has preserved us from many dangers, doubtless owing to thy many prayers at St. Wilfred's altar. Thou hast, I hope, received safely the letters I sent from Joppa last autumn, and knowest whom I am bringing home with me. How wonderful it all is, and with what strange feelings the exile must approach the home of his boyhood!

But he is very composed and quiet in his manner, and we grow in mutual esteem daily. He declares that he will accept no part of his ancient inheritance, but that he finds his highest joy in thinking that, in his sister's children, the descendants of the ancient line yet possess the land of their forefathers.

"What can he mean? Whom is he bringing with him? Send for Tristam.

Ah! I see there is the old prior at the gate--he is talking with him;" and Hugh hurried down to fetch them up.

They entered the room: our old friend, Father Kenelm, as hale an old man as one could well find at seventy-five years of age--Wilfred's protector and friend, in the most critical moments of his life--and Tristam--do our readers remember him?

"G.o.d bless you, my children, in joy as in sorrow," was his salutation.

"How far are they off?"

"When will they be here?" and Tristam, who stood humbly at the door, found himself the object of universal attraction, and did not know which to answer first.

"Welcome, Tristam, welcome," said his lady; "thou art the morning star, the harbinger of my sun. How far hence are they?"

"They will be here by sunset, my lady."

"I will go and meet them," cried Hugh, and ran down stairs to get his horse ready.

"But whom is he bringing with him?"

"My child," said Father Kenelm, "has he not told thee?"

"Nay, he speaks so mysteriously--read."

Father Kenelm read. Then, looking up, he spoke with deep emotion.

Tristam had told him all.

"One long since dead to the world, and as many thought buried. I alone knew of his existence, as a secret which I was absolutely forbidden to disclose; and as many years had elapsed since I last heard of him, I thought him dead--he who was once the hope of Aescendune."

"End our suspense!"

"Thou hadst a brother once--a bright, laughing, fair-haired boy, whom thou didst love whilst father and mother lived. I speak of events long forgotten, save by me."

"Nay, I have never forgotten him. Hast thou not often commemorated him amongst the faithful departed, at my request?"

"Only as one, whom the world might yet contain in the body, or whose soul heaven might have received--I knew not which. Well, my lady, this thy brother yet lives."

"Wilfred?"

"And is returning home with thy husband."

"Wilfred alive!--nay, thou jestest. He died at Oxenford and was buried there, nearly thirty years agone."

"Geoffrey, then Bishop of Coutances, deceived the lad's enemies by a fict.i.tious death and burial, but forbade the rescued youth to return home, or make his existence known, save to me."

At this moment, the gleams, the parting beams, of the setting sun shone upon pennon and upon lance, issuing from the wood afar off.

The mult.i.tude, who had a.s.sembled below, saw the sight, and rushed tumultuously forward to meet their kinsfolk.

Hugh forgot the story about his uncle, ran down stairs, and joined the throng, who pressed over the bridge.

Amidst the pomp of banners, the crash of trumpets, and the loud acclamations and cheers of the crowd, the Crusaders reached home, and entered the castle yard.

Edith fell into the arms of her lord as he dismounted, then sought her son. She knew not to which to turn.

A grave personage, who studied hard to maintain his composure, but whose eyes were filled with tears, had also dismounted, and was standing by.

"Edith," cried Etienne, "behold our brother."

And she fell upon his neck with a torrent of tears, as all the life of her childhood rushed upon her--"hours that were to memory dear."

Only a few more lines are needed to dismiss the heroes and personages of our tale to rest.

Wilfred spent a few happy days with his brother-in-law cheered by the society of his sister and her children.