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"
And
this
is
Wilfred
!
"
said
Cedric
,
pointing
to
his
son
.
"
My
father
!
--
my
father
!
"
said
Ivanhoe
,
prostrating
himself
at
Cedric
's
feet
,
"
grant
me
thy
forgiveness
!
"
"
Thou
hast
it
,
my
son
,
"
said
Cedric
,
raising
him
up
.
"
The
son
of
Hereward
knows
how
to
keep
his
word
,
even
when
it
has
been
passed
to
a
Norman
.
But
let
me
see
thee
use
the
dress
and
costume
of
thy
English
ancestry
--
no
short
cloaks
,
no
gay
bonnets
,
no
fantastic
plumage
in
my
decent
household
.
He
that
would
be
the
son
of
Cedric
,
must
show
himself
of
English
ancestry
.
--
Thou
art
about
to
speak
,
"
he
added
,
sternly
,
"
and
I
guess
the
topic
.
The
Lady
Rowena
must
complete
two
years
'
mourning
,
as
for
a
betrothed
husband
--
all
our
Saxon
ancestors
would
disown
us
were
we
to
treat
of
a
new
union
for
her
ere
the
grave
of
him
she
should
have
wedded
--
him
,
so
much
the
most
worthy
of
her
hand
by
birth
and
ancestry
--
is
yet
closed
.
The
ghost
of
Athelstane
himself
would
burst
his
bloody
cerements
and
stand
before
us
to
forbid
such
dishonour
to
his
memory
.
"
It
seemed
as
if
Cedric
's
words
had
raised
a
spectre
;
for
,
scarce
had
he
uttered
them
ere
the
door
flew
open
,
and
Athelstane
,
arrayed
in
the
garments
of
the
grave
,
stood
before
them
,
pale
,
haggard
,
and
like
something
arisen
from
the
dead
!
The
effect
of
this
apparition
on
the
persons
present
was
utterly
appalling
.
Cedric
started
back
as
far
as
the
wall
of
the
apartment
would
permit
,
and
,
leaning
against
it
as
one
unable
to
support
himself
,
gazed
on
the
figure
of
his
friend
with
eyes
that
seemed
fixed
,
and
a
mouth
which
he
appeared
incapable
of
shutting
.
Ivanhoe
crossed
himself
,
repeating
prayers
in
Saxon
,
Latin
,
or
Norman-French
,
as
they
occurred
to
his
memory
,
while
Richard
alternately
said
,
"
Benedicite
"
,
and
swore
,
"
Mort
de
ma
vie
!
"
In
the
meantime
,
a
horrible
noise
was
heard
below
stairs
,
some
crying
,
"
Secure
the
treacherous
monks
!
"
--
others
,
"
Down
with
them
into
the
dungeon
!
"
--
others
,
"
Pitch
them
from
the
highest
battlements
!
"
"
In
the
name
of
God
!
"
said
Cedric
,
addressing
what
seemed
the
spectre
of
his
departed
friend
,
"
if
thou
art
mortal
,
speak
!
--
if
a
departed
spirit
,
say
for
what
cause
thou
dost
revisit
us
,
or
if
I
can
do
aught
that
can
set
thy
spirit
at
repose
.
--
Living
or
dead
,
noble
Athelstane
,
speak
to
Cedric
!
"
"
I
will
,
"
said
the
spectre
,
very
composedly
,
"
when
I
have
collected
breath
,
and
when
you
give
me
time
--
Alive
,
saidst
thou
?
--
I
am
as
much
alive
as
he
can
be
who
has
fed
on
bread
and
water
for
three
days
,
which
seem
three
ages
--
Yes
,
bread
and
water
,
Father
Cedric
!
By
Heaven
,
and
all
saints
in
it
,
better
food
hath
not
passed
my
weasand
for
three
livelong
days
,
and
by
God
's
providence
it
is
that
I
am
now
here
to
tell
it
.
"
"
Why
,
noble
Athelstane
,
"
said
the
Black
Knight
,
"
I
myself
saw
you
struck
down
by
the
fierce
Templar
towards
the
end
of
the
storm
at
Torquilstone
,
and
as
I
thought
,
and
Wamba
reported
,
your
skull
was
cloven
through
the
teeth
.
"
