Cold, bitter cold, was the season, and it had set in with more than
common severity. Day after day the payment was delayed. Every morning
the widow and her son fondled the poor beast, as though it were the
last; but another morning and evening succeeded. Supper could not supply
the place of breakfast, nor breakfast contend against the wants of
supper; and how could the already half-famished ones be sustained, when
their only resource should be taken away?
"Go down upon your knees, Will, and thank God for another morning's
meal. It is the eve of our blessed Lord's incarnation, and I think He
will not leave us to perish in this world, who has made such a bountiful
provision for our well-being in the next. The knight has not sent for
the heriot, and I think that He alone who succours the widow and the
fatherless can have inclined his heart to mercy."
Scarcely were the thanksgivings finished, when they were alarmed by the
rapid approach of their persecutor. The door flew open, and in
thundering accents the Black Knight himself came to make his demand.
"I'll have thee to the dungeon, hag, for lack of service.
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