They had hardly finished their preparations before the hour designated by the abbess; but as the bells were tolling for vespers they stood in the convent court-yard eagerly waiting for their expected guests. Bertrand and Dick waited without, while the dame and her daughter went with Sister Ursula to bring them out; but when they at last appeared, the men could hardly recognize in the gaunt, haggard-looking boy who came feebly along, with a bewildered look in the hollow eyes which he was trying to shield from the light with his hand, the young master whom they had seen so fresh, and ruddy, and vigorous six months before. But the thoughts of all were concentrated on the little form borne, as though lifeless, in dame Redwood’s arms. He had fainted from sudden exposure to the air; but the good woman had been so horror-struck at the scene of misery which met her eyes when Sister Ursula opened the dungeon-door, that she would not now suffer them to wait to restore him, but for once speechless with indignation, hurried the whole party out of the gates. It was not until she had heard them clash behind her, and saw the grim old towers disappearing behind the hill, that she felt at all secure, but kept all the while looking back, as if in fear of pursuit. The little figure in the litter lay so still that more than once Bertrand bent down to catch the sound of the faint breathing which alone gave token of life. Geoffrey, mounted on the pony, was so bewildered that he could neither ask questions nor answer them. He seemed troubled if the narrowness of the way caused the dame to lead the horse either in front of or behind the litter; the only sign he gave of being conscious of his change of position being a dread of being separated from his brother. All felt relieved when they reached the cottage. Not that the bearers were weary; that little emaciated form would scarcely have been felt in Bertrand’s strong arms; but his heart was bearing a load of grief such as it had never borne before. Until then, hope had buoyed him up, and supported him through all the toil and danger which he had undergone for his master and his sons: even hope seemed dead now. But it was worse still with poor Dick. The demons of remorse which he hoped had been driven out forever returned with renewed power. "We have thee again, Judas!" they seemed to say to the wretched man. "Didst thou think to escape us, poor fool? _He_ too threw down the money, and tried to save, but it was _too late_, TOO LATE! The blood was on his head, and on yours too. Come, why not do as that famous namesake of thine did? His work and thine can never be undone, and there is no repentance or forgiveness for either!"