“All alone she sought the sanctuary of S. Joseph at Glastonbury; there she purposed to remain, dreading thy power, until she could appeal to justice, for all in the castle, like me, were thy minions; she fled: a wild night of wind and snow followed, and she died on the road.” “With the child?” said Sir John. “No, I learned all about _its_ fate. The child was rescued by a yeoman named Hodge, and nurtured by the good Abbot of Glastonbury, and if the priest, Christopher, tells me truth, thou art about to compass his death now. Oh repent, Sir John, repent while there is yet time, for the sake of thy soul and mine; for I have sinfully concealed this secret, dreading thy anger, thine, my foster son, and I have hidden it from thee: yet my hands are pure from blood, although my guilty complicity exposed the mother to death in the snow, and the babe to the chances of the night; although I have aided thee to grasp an inheritance which is not thine, and which is dragging thee and me alike into hell: repent at once, and my poor soul may depart in peace; _save_ the boy, thy nephew.” “Art thou sure none can overhear us? Art thou alone in this house?” “Alone with the dead.” “And that thou hast confessed the truth to none?” “Not as yet.” “And never shall. Die then the death thou didst spare the brat.” Hard by stood a ewer filled with water, and over it a towel; he dipped this towel in the water, and suddenly clapped it upon her mouth, then he thrust a pillow upon her face, towel and all, and threw himself upon it, keeping it down until the poor suffering body ceased to throb, when he removed the pillow, and composed the features as well as he could, smoothed the coverlet, and left the room. It was growing dark. A shudder passed over him all at once, as he descended the stairs. At the foot of the stairs stood revealed to his sight--or to his guilty imagination--a misty form surmounted by a face which expressed such unutterable anguish, that even the iron nerves of the murderer threatened to give way. He made a violent effort, composed himself, and rushed _through_ the apparition; he gained the outer air, and felt a dead faint gain upon him, he sank upon the step, and knew nought till he was aroused by a voice. “How is the old girl upstairs?” “She passed away in a fit whilst I was with her.” FOOTNOTES [40] As I write an ancient map of Exeter is before me confirming this description. CHAPTER VII. _CASTLE REDFYRNE._ It is necessary, for the fuller elucidation of our veracious narrative, that the reader should here be made acquainted with the earlier history of the Redfyrne family. About twenty miles, or a little more, to the south-east of Glastonbury, over the Dorsetshire border, and not far from Sturminster, stood, three centuries ago, an old and mouldering castle, built in the days of the Barons’ wars.