“After I had left thee in the park,” pursued Hildebrand, “somewhat held me abroad a space longer, and ’twas dark ere I took me homewards. While I walked carelessly on, some one in my rear, who had been dogging me unseen, struck me a blow with a bludgeon, and I fell stunned to the earth.” “’Twas Shedlock!” cried Bernard, starting up. “Not himself, but two sturdy ruffians, whom he had hired,” said Hildebrand, in continuation. “They had bound me when I regained my senses; and were, I found, carrying me off. On clearing the park, they made for the highway; and there, after a little time, they came to an old farm-waggon; and in this they incontinently bestowed me. One of them, who seemed the bolder of the two, posted himself by me as a watch; and the other mounted the shaft, and straight drove off.” “Whither drove he?” inquired Bernard. “We kept on all night,” answered Hildebrand; “and, while it was yet dark in the morning, we came to Topsham. They drove direct to the gaol; and, on their instigation, the keeper thereof took me in charge. But I lay not long in a dungeon. After two or three days, my right worthy friend and patron, Sir Walter Raleigh, of whom I have heretofore rendered thee fair mention, came to take me for a runaway from his plantation, and straight set me free.” “This Shedlock is a foul villain,” said Bernard; “yet the Lord is a jealous God, and thou must not avenge.” “I am right glad thou think’st so,” returned Hildebrand. “Wilt thou forgive him, then?” cried Bernard. “Nay, more! An’ I give thee that will insure thee thy name, and restore thy sweet mother’s honour, wilt thou suffer him, during the brief while he has to live, to continue the holder of thy heritage, and thou be only his heir?” Hildebrand bit his lips, and was silent. “Thou hesitatest!” observed Bernard. “Oh, how holy are the ways of the Lord, who is able, of his own heavenly will, to make the heart know its malice, and sweeten its thoughts with charity! Blessed be the Lord, who hath had mercy on his servant!” As he thus spoke, the eyes of the penitent, no longer gleaming with enthusiasm, brimmed with tears, and turned gratefully towards heaven. Hildebrand was moved. “I consent, good Bernard,” he said, “and will even try to forgive him. But how will my acquiescence herein prevail in the matter of my succession?” “I will tell thee,” answered Bernard. And, without further preface, he proceeded, in a low but distinct tone, to inform him of his recent interview with Dame Shedlock, and of all the particulars which the dame had then disclosed to him. Although, as his narrative progressed, Hildebrand was frequently visibly affected by his words, he interposed no remark, but heard him to an end without interruption. When he had brought his communication to a close, however, he broke into a passionate exclamation.