Then Monella and Ergalon also came away; and it is no disparagement of Templemore's courage or 'nerve' to state that they had almost to carry him between them. When they had got to a safe distance, Monella placed him on a boulder, and held to his lips a flask containing a strong cordial. Templemore, who had been on the point of fainting, felt revived by it at once; the liquid seemed to course quickly through his veins, and the feeling of deadly sickness, after a time, passed away. Monella, meanwhile, contemplated him with compassion and concern, but said no word. Presently Templemore gasped out, "What horrors! What frightful, cold-blooded atrocity! What a race of foul fiends! Great heavens! To think such things go on in this fair land--a land that seems so peaceful, so contented, so free from ordinary pain and suffering!" "Ah, my son," replied Monella, and there was an indescribable sadness in his tones, "_now_ you can understand the great horror in the land; that which has oppressed it for many long ages; that casts a gloom upon people's lives; that turns to gall and bitterness what, but for it, would be a life of innocent enjoyment." [Illustration: "OTHER BRANCHES SWOOPED DOWN, COILING ROUND HIM." [_Page 252._] "But why----?" Templemore exclaimed almost fiercely; but the other checked him. "I think I know what you would say," Monella went on. "You would know two or three things, I think. To the first question (as I read it) I reply that the reason you have not heard of this thing from other people is that they have learned, from long habit, never to refer to it, even to one another. Almost incredible, you think? Not more so than are many things that happen in your own life, in your own country. I could name many known to all, yet alluded to by none--often wrongly, as I hold. Still, there is the fact. It is the same here. This horror in the land broods over, enthrals the people; yet, because they hold it in such dread, they make an affectation of pretending not to know of its existence; perhaps, in mercy to their children. "Next, it surprises you that _I_ have not told you sooner. The answer is simple. You are not like myself; I am one of this people; you are but a sojourner in the land--a visitor. I had the desire to make your sojourn here as pleasant as it could be; that your interest in the many curious things you see about you should not be lessened, nor your stay here rendered unhappy by the knowledge of that which you have seen to-night--the earlier knowledge of which could have done no good to any one. "Lastly, you naturally desire to know why, in that case, I have now chosen to enlighten you. For this reason: the time is approaching when certain plans of mine and of the king's will be completed, and when I devoutly hope we may be able, with God's help, to end this thing for ever. In that I shall ask you to help us--I hope you will aid us all you can."