Wendot knew very little of the occurrences of the next few days.  He was carried to the chamber that he shared with Griffeth, and there he lay for several days and nights in a dreamy, semi-conscious state, tended by his mother with all the skill and tenderness she possessed, and, save when the pain of his wounds made him restless and feverish, sleeping much, and troubling his head little about what went on within or without the castle.  He was dimly aware that little Gertrude came in and out of his room sometimes, holding to his mother’s hands, and that her gentle prattle and little caressing gestures were very soothing and pleasant.  But he did not trouble his head to wonder how it was he was lying there, nor what event had crippled him so; and only in the fevered visions of the night did he see himself once again standing upon the narrow ledge of the Eagle’s Crag, with a host of foes bearing down upon him to overpower and slay both him and his charge.

But after a few days of feverish lassitude and drowsiness the lad’s magnificent constitution triumphed —­ the fever left him; and though he now lay weak and white upon his narrow bed, his mind was perfectly clear, and he was eager and anxious to know what had happened whilst he had been shut out from the life of the castle.

His mother was naturally the one to whom he turned for information.  He saw that she was unwontedly pale and grave and thoughtful.  As she sat beside his bed with some needlework in her hands one bright afternoon, when the sunlight was streaming into the chamber, and the air floating in through the narrow casement was full of scent and song, his eyes fixed themselves upon her face with more of purpose and reflection, and he begged her to tell him all that had passed.

“For I know that our guests are still here.  Gertrude comes daily to see me.  But where are Llewelyn and Howel?  I have not seen them once.  Is my father angry with them still? or have they been punished and forgiven?”

“Your brothers are still close prisoners,” answered the mother with a sigh.  “They have been chastised with more severity than any son of ours has needed to be chastised before; but they still remain sullen and obdurate and revengeful, and thy father will not permit them to come out from their retirement so long as our guests remain.  Perchance it is best so, for it would but cause trouble in the house for them to meet.  I would that they could see matters differently; and yet there are many amongst our people who would say that the true patriotism was theirs.”

“And our guests, mother —­ why linger they still?  Methought they Would leave so soon as Lord Montacute returned.”

“So they purposed once; but he has wished to remain till thou art sound once more, my son.  He hath a very warm feeling towards thee, and would speak to thee of something that is in his heart ere he quits Dynevor.  He has spoken of it to thy father and to me, but he wishes thee to hear it from his own lips.”