"Glory be to Jesus!" said, or rather stammered, the Canon; and "For ever and ever!" responded Orsolya, who had risen to receive him; and for a moment her voice failed her, so shocked was she at the change in the fine, vigorous-looking man whom she remembered. Attenuated to the last degree, bent almost double, he looked as if he were in the last stage of exhaustion. His clothes were one mass of rags and tatters, which hung about him in ribbons; his face, sunken and the colour of parchment, had lost its expression of energy and manliness, and wore for the moment a look of bewilderment, which was almost vacancy. He was the wreck of what he had once been. His servant, the one whom he mentions in his "Lamentable Song," Orsolya took to be quite an old man. Withered and worn like his master, he was, if possible, even more dilapidated, thanks to his encounter with the wolves. "You have come a long way and suffered much, Father," said Orsolya gently, when she had welcomed Dora and Talabor, and regained her composure. "Much lady, much--I--I----" "Ah, well, never mind! so long as you are here at last, Father Roger, never mind! It is a long, long time since we met last! Do you remember? My husband was alive then, and we were staying in Pressburg with my nephew, Stephen Szirmay, and with the Hédervárys." "I remember well, dear lady; ah! how little we any of us dreamt of the days that were coming!" He spoke falteringly, in a faint voice; and as he sat bowed together on the low seat, Orsolya noticed that he trembled in every limb. The rumour of his arrival had quickly spread, and the inhabitants of the cavern all came flocking round, eager to see and hear. In their bright-coloured, though more or less worn garments, with the fire-light playing upon them, and a whole troop of eager children among them, they were a most picturesque company. But Orsolya allowed no time for questions. "Come," said she, rising from her chair, "that will do for the present! Father Roger is worn out! Will you ladies go and get St. Anna's house ready, and make up good beds; and you, kinsmen," she went on, turning to the men, "will you see about clothes and clean linen? I am afraid we have nothing but old rags, but at least they are not quite so worn as those our friends are wearing, and they are a trifle cleaner! I shall put the good Canon especially in your charge, Márton; you will look after him and see that he wants for nothing." "Thank you, lady," stammered Roger, almost overwhelmed by the warmth of his reception. "Blessings be upon your honoured head, and upon all who dwell beneath this roof." All present bowed their heads almost involuntarily, whereupon Roger summoned all his remaining strength, and reaching forth his withered hands, pronounced the benediction over them; after which the children made a rush forward to seize and kiss his hands.