“No! no!” she said, in faltering accents: “not now! I cannot tell thee now!” “Well, well, mistress, be it anon, then,” answered Bernard, mildly. “Whatever it affect, give thyself no care, I prithee. How is it with thee?” “Grievous! grievous!” rejoined Dame Shedlock. “I am dying!” “Alack!” exclaimed Bernard. “’Tis even so,” resumed the dame. “The Lord calls me; and must not I, his servant, give his voice good heed? So be it; for as grass we are green in the morning, and at night are cut down, and withered.” Bernard’s eyes brightened. “Set thy lamp in order, then,” he said, “that, when the bridegroom comes, thou be not like the foolish virgins, but have thine oil ready.” “’Twas for that I bid thee hither,” replied the dame, faintly. “And, verily, I must despatch, while life yet serves me, or I shall be as the condemned of the parable.” She paused here; and the short, strained breaths which she exhaled, with her increased paleness, showed that she had exerted herself beyond her powers. After a brief interval, however, during which Bernard regarded her anxiously, but made no oral observation, she appeared to recover herself, and resumed. “The boy--the man, now,” she said--“Hildebrand Clifford; ’twas of him I would speak.” “He is well,” answered Bernard, “and, as I am advised, in England--in Lantwell.” Though she had hitherto seemed quite helpless, his auditor, on hearing this unexpected intelligence, abruptly raised herself in the bed, and gazed doubtingly in his face. “In Lantwell?” she said. “Even so,” returned Bernard. “Then, can I not ease my poor conscience,” observed the dame, feebly wringing her hands. “No! no! ’twere a greater sin to wrong _him_, old and lonely as I shall leave him.” “Yet wrong not thyself, or thy precious soul,” suggested Bernard, with his wonted sternness. The dame shuddered. “Take comfort!” said Bernard, more kindly. “I have it!” resumed the dame, eagerly, yet in subdued accents. “An’ I give thee that will establish young Clifford’s rights, wilt thou suffer _him_, who is now old, and near his time, to hold them till he depart?” “By my soul, will I!” exclaimed Bernard. “But what canst thou give me will do this?” “I will tell thee,” answered the dame; “yet first swear the offence shall be held secret!” “I swear it, by the Lord!” said Bernard, devoutly. “Old Master Clifford, as thou knowest, held his dame in lawful wedlock,” replied the dame, “but there is no record thereof in the parish book. The page that did record it was torn out.” “Ah!” cried Bernard. “Forbear a while,” pursued the dame. “’Twas torn from the book by--by _him_. The Enemy urged him to ’t; and in an evil hour, when the Lord had forsaken him, he sought to destroy it.” “Is it lost?” cried Bernard vehemently.