The priory was rebuilt, as well as the castle, and occupied by Benedictine monks of both races; but unlike most other monasteries, it had an English prior.  Lanfranc had appointed Father Kenelm, at Etienne’s earnest request, in gratitude for events in which that good father had borne his part in the Dismal Swamp.  This appointment, more than aught else, reconciled the English to Norman rule.

At first Edith feared her new lord, whom she had been compelled to marry, remembering the sadness of her mother’s married life; but his persistent kindness won her heart; and after the birth of young Edward, whom we have introduced to our readers, all restraint was removed, and they were as happy a pair as need be.

Their children were taught to converse in both tongues—­Old English and Norman French—­and to treat all alike, the kinsfolk of father or of mother.

Putting together the details given by Edward of Aescendune to the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, and these few outlines of intervening events, our readers will have little difficulty in understanding the history of the thirty years.

Within her bower (as we have said) was the lady of Aescendune.  Seated in an embrasure of the lofty tower in which her rooms were situate, her attention became fixed upon a horseman, who was riding swiftly towards the castle from the direction of Warwick.

“I wonder,” thought she, “whether this be a messenger from—­” and then she checked the thought, as though it must end in disappointment.

For months she had not heard from the absent ones.  She knew Jerusalem was taken; but if any letters had been sent, they had miscarried—­no unlikely circumstance in those days.

The messenger reached the castle.

Soon steps were heard ascending the stairs with such precipitate haste, that the lady felt sure that some important tidings had arrived.

Young Hugh—­an active, fresh-coloured boy, with his Father’s features, tempered by the softer expression of his mother, perhaps—­bounded into the room.

“Oh, mother! lady mother!—­letters from father, about him and Edward.  The man below is old Tristam—­you remember Tristam who went to the wars.  They have landed, landed, and are upon the road home.  Oh! happy day.  Tristam was sent forward.  Read,—­only read.”

She was as pale as death, and fainting from the sudden shock.  Excess of joy has its dangers.

Her two girls, Margaret and Hilda, had followed their brother, and their gentle care soon restored her:  but the shock had been great.

“Read, mother,—­read,” said Hugh.

The accomplishments of reading and writing—­for they were accomplishments then—­were possessed both by husband and wife.

We will give but one paragraph in the letter: