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"
I
may
not
indulge
this
ecstasy
longer
!
The
night
is
already
gone
.
It
seems
but
a
moment
--
only
a
moment
;
would
it
had
endured
a
year
!
Seed
of
the
Church
's
spoiler
,
close
thy
perishing
eyes
,
an
'
thou
fearest
to
look
upon
--
"
The
rest
was
lost
in
inarticulate
mutterings
.
The
old
man
sank
upon
his
knees
,
his
knife
in
his
hand
,
and
bent
himself
over
the
moaning
boy
.
Hark
!
There
was
a
sound
of
voices
near
the
cabin
--
the
knife
dropped
from
the
hermit
's
hand
;
he
cast
a
sheepskin
over
the
boy
and
started
up
,
trembling
.
The
sounds
increased
,
and
presently
the
voices
became
rough
and
angry
;
then
came
blows
,
and
cries
for
help
;
then
a
clatter
of
swift
footsteps
,
retreating
.
Immediately
came
a
succession
of
thundering
knocks
upon
the
cabin
door
,
followed
by
--
"
Hullo-o-o
!
Open
!
And
despatch
,
in
the
name
of
all
the
devils
!
"
Oh
,
this
was
the
blessedest
sound
that
had
ever
made
music
in
the
King
's
ears
;
for
it
was
Miles
Hendon
's
voice
!
The
hermit
,
grinding
his
teeth
in
impotent
rage
,
moved
swiftly
out
of
the
bedchamber
,
closing
the
door
behind
him
;
and
straightway
the
King
heard
a
talk
,
to
this
effect
,
proceeding
from
the
'
chapel
'
:
--
"
Homage
and
greeting
,
reverend
sir
!
Where
is
the
boy
--
my
boy
?
"
"
What
boy
,
friend
?
"
"
What
boy
!
Lie
me
no
lies
,
sir
priest
,
play
me
no
deceptions
!
--
I
am
not
in
the
humour
for
it
.
Near
to
this
place
I
caught
the
scoundrels
who
I
judged
did
steal
him
from
me
,
and
I
made
them
confess
;
they
said
he
was
at
large
again
,
and
they
had
tracked
him
to
your
door
.
They
showed
me
his
very
footprints
.
Now
palter
no
more
;
for
look
you
,
holy
sir
,
an
'
thou
produce
him
not
--
Where
is
the
boy
?
"