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"
Do
not
Saxon
priests
visit
this
castle
,
then
?
"
replied
Cedric
;
"
it
were
,
methinks
,
their
duty
to
comfort
the
outcast
and
oppressed
children
of
the
soil
.
"
"
They
come
not
--
or
if
they
come
,
they
better
love
to
revel
at
the
boards
of
their
conquerors
,
"
answered
Urfried
,
"
than
to
hear
the
groans
of
their
countrymen
--
so
,
at
least
,
report
speaks
of
them
--
of
myself
I
can
say
little
.
This
castle
,
for
ten
years
,
has
opened
to
no
priest
save
the
debauched
Norman
chaplain
who
partook
the
nightly
revels
of
Front-de-Boeuf
,
and
he
has
been
long
gone
to
render
an
account
of
his
stewardship
.
--
But
thou
art
a
Saxon
--
a
Saxon
priest
,
and
I
have
one
question
to
ask
of
thee
.
"
"
I
am
a
Saxon
,
"
answered
Cedric
,
"
but
unworthy
,
surely
,
of
the
name
of
priest
.
Let
me
begone
on
my
way
--
I
swear
I
will
return
,
or
send
one
of
our
fathers
more
worthy
to
hear
your
confession
.
"
"
Stay
yet
a
while
,
"
said
Urfried
;
"
the
accents
of
the
voice
which
thou
hearest
now
will
soon
be
choked
with
the
cold
earth
,
and
I
would
not
descend
to
it
like
the
beast
I
have
lived
.
But
wine
must
give
me
strength
to
tell
the
horrors
of
my
tale
.
"
She
poured
out
a
cup
,
and
drank
it
with
a
frightful
avidity
,
which
seemed
desirous
of
draining
the
last
drop
in
the
goblet
.
"
It
stupifies
,
"
she
said
,
looking
upwards
as
she
finished
her
drought
,
"
but
it
can
not
cheer
--
Partake
it
,
father
,
if
you
would
hear
my
tale
without
sinking
down
upon
the
pavement
.
"
Cedric
would
have
avoided
pledging
her
in
this
ominous
conviviality
,
but
the
sign
which
she
made
to
him
expressed
impatience
and
despair
.
He
complied
with
her
request
,
and
answered
her
challenge
in
a
large
wine-cup
;
she
then
proceeded
with
her
story
,
as
if
appeased
by
his
complaisance
.
"
I
was
not
born
,
"
she
said
,
"
father
,
the
wretch
that
thou
now
seest
me
.
I
was
free
,
was
happy
,
was
honoured
,
loved
,
and
was
beloved
.
I
am
now
a
slave
,
miserable
and
degraded
--
the
sport
of
my
masters
'
passions
while
I
had
yet
beauty
--
the
object
of
their
contempt
,
scorn
,
and
hatred
,
since
it
has
passed
away
.
Dost
thou
wonder
,
father
,
that
I
should
hate
mankind
,
and
,
above
all
,
the
race
that
has
wrought
this
change
in
me
?
Can
the
wrinkled
decrepit
hag
before
thee
,
whose
wrath
must
vent
itself
in
impotent
curses
,
forget
she
was
once
the
daughter
of
the
noble
Thane
of
Torquilstone
,
before
whose
frown
a
thousand
vassals
trembled
?
"
"
Thou
the
daughter
of
Torquil
Wolfganger
!
"
said
Cedric
,
receding
as
he
spoke
;
"
thou
--
thou
--
the
daughter
of
that
noble
Saxon
,
my
father
's
friend
and
companion
in
arms
!
"
"
Thy
father
's
friend
!
"
echoed
Urfried
;
"
then
Cedric
called
the
Saxon
stands
before
me
,
for
the
noble
Hereward
of
Rotherwood
had
but
one
son
,
whose
name
is
well
known
among
his
countrymen
.
But
if
thou
art
Cedric
of
Rotherwood
,
why
this
religious
dress
?
--
hast
thou
too
despaired
of
saving
thy
country
,
and
sought
refuge
from
oppression
in
the
shade
of
the
convent
?
"
"
It
matters
not
who
I
am
,
"
said
Cedric
;
"
proceed
,
unhappy
woman
,
with
thy
tale
of
horror
and
guilt
!
--
Guilt
there
must
be
--
there
is
guilt
even
in
thy
living
to
tell
it
.
"
"
There
is
--
there
is
,
"
answered
the
wretched
woman
,
"
deep
,
black
,
damning
guilt
,
--
guilt
,
that
lies
like
a
load
at
my
breast
--
guilt
,
that
all
the
penitential
fires
of
hereafter
can
not
cleanse
.
--
Yes
,
in
these
halls
,
stained
with
the
noble
and
pure
blood
of
my
father
and
my
brethren
--
in
these
very
halls
,
to
have
lived
the
paramour
of
their
murderer
,
the
slave
at
once
and
the
partaker
of
his
pleasures
,
was
to
render
every
breath
which
I
drew
of
vital
air
,
a
crime
and
a
curse
.
"
