"
The last words were spoken with a solemnity of expression awful and
thrilling beyond the power of language to convey:
"What recks it, lady? thou hast gotten thee another," said the pilgrim.
"Another!--Oh name him not. Never, never!--most base, most cruel. He
took advantage of my bereavement--a moment of weakness and maternal
terror. By what long ages of suffering and wretchedness has it been
repaid! Better I had beheld my babes wasting with hunger, than have
mated with this unpitying husband for a home and a morsel of bread!"
A flush of proud scorn at her own weakness overspread her features. It
was but momentary. She bade the attendants withdraw. Looking round for
this purpose, she was aware, for the first time, of the hated presence
of Roger de Cliderhow, watching, with considerable surprise, for the
result of this unexpected interview. He departed with the retinue,
leaving Lady Mabel and the pilgrim for a while unobserved.
"Thou art a holy and a heaven-destined man, yet surely thou hast been
taught to share another's sorrows--to pour the oil of compassion over
the wounds of the penitent and broken-hearted.
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