“This is a judgment on me for my hardness. Cedric was right indeed. I see it clearly now that ’tis our own old Marvin whose rights were trampled on by those who called him churl and varlet. And what a battle the lad did make! And how he fell—like a prince of the blood beset by ruffians! Oh! Did he live to speak any words of farewell—to leave any message with Marvin or any other?” “I know not, my lord,” replied the old serving man, “when I left Morton Hall this morning, ’twas said that he still breathed, but that he could scarcely last the day.” My father started up and gave a furious pull to the bell cord. The clangor thus provoked sent the chief of our serving men hurrying in. “Tell the grooms to saddle Cæsar,” shouted Lord Mountjoy, “and call Broderick and say that he and six armed and mounted men are to attend me. I ride at once to Morton.” “And I also,” I cried, “Galvin, tell the grooms to make ready the black mare that I rode yesterday.” “And my horse also,” shrilled my mother, the instant I was done. “I, too, will ride to Morton.” ’Twas fifteen leagues to Morton Hall; and much of the road was rough and wild, with many a stony hill to climb and many a stream to ford. The half of the journey we made by the light of the great round harvest moon that sent its silvered rays near level through the forest. Hard we rode, indeed, and with little mercy on our mounts; and ’twas scarce four hours after we left Mountjoy when, piloted by the old Morton serving man, we dismounted before the door of Gilbert’s cottage. [Illustration: _HARD WE RODE, INDEED, AND WITH LITTLE MERCY ON OUR MOUNTS_] Praise be to the saints! We were not too late, for Cedric lay within, still breathing, though with closed eyes and with face of deathly paleness. Old Marvin lay on another couch hard by; and a leech and a nursing woman from Morton Hall were with them. Marvin greeted us gladly, and seemed not surprised at our coming. His voice roused Cedric; and he looked upon us with knowing eyes and weakly uttered words of welcome. Lord Mountjoy knelt on the ground at his side, and clasped his hand. “Cedric,” he whispered, painfully, “canst thou forgive me my words of harshness and my driving thee forth from thy home?” Then a smile of great content o’erspread my comrade’s face; his eyes grew brighter, and a faintly ruddy color came to his cheeks. “Lord Mountjoy,” he said, and his voice was far stronger than before, “I freely forgive you for any trifling slights you have offered. I pray you, make not too much of them.” “Thou wert right, after all,” went on Lord Mountjoy, “in holding to the rights thy fathers had of old. I should well have known thou wert too staunch ever to be a breeder of trouble in the house of thy friends. Now would I give the half of my lands to have thee back, well and sound, at Mountjoy Hall.” Then Cedric smiled again, now broadly as of old.