“I would we had come in time to spare you what you have already suffered, my son.  But we did only enter the doors as the fall of the rafter announced that some catastrophe had happened.  I feared to find you already a corpse.”

“You came after me, good father?” asked Tom in amaze.

“Yes, truly.  Your companion, who is safe over the other pass by this time, caused the message to reach us that you were like to fall into the hands of Montacute, and be hanged or shot.  He begged that if we could we would save you; and as our work lies in succouring those who are in peril upon these heights, be that peril what it may, we have been seeking you ever since.  I would we had arrived a few minutes earlier.”

Tom’s eyes gleamed; it seemed to him as though the madness was not yet out of his blood.

“I can scarce echo that wish, reverend father,” he said; “for I have had my taste of joy!  If my back be torn and scored, I have had my fingers on yon miscreant’s throat.  I think he will carry the marks of them as long as I shall carry my scars.  I have had my recompense!”

“Peace, my son,” said the monk, lifting his hand.  “The heart of the natural man lusts after vengeance; but these passions are terrible, and contrary to the will of God.  Especially in these savage solitudes, with the strange and awful handiwork of the Almighty Creator about us, should we bow in humblest adoration of His infinite power, and draw near and close, in bonds of brotherhood, to our fellow men.  But I know that the sin was not yours.  You were sinned against sorely first.  Nevertheless, we must needs learn to forgive our enemies, and do good to those that persecute us.  So alone can we follow in the steps of Him who is set as the light of the world.”

Tom hung his head.  He was a little abashed at the fury he had shown, and yet the savage joy of it was still tingling in his veins.  He looked at the other monk, who was kneeling upon the floor beside Montacute, and he perceived that the latter was slowly recovering, and was able to sit up, propped against the wall.

As soon as he was able to understand what was said to him, the elder monk addressed him in stern tones.

“Montacute—­thou man of blood—­be warned by the fate which thy cruelty well-nigh drew down upon thy head this day!  If God in His mercy had not sent us, in the very nick of time, to save this youth out of thy murderous hands, thou wouldst have passed ere now to the scathing fires of purgatory, whence there be few to offer prayers for thy release.  Be warned by this escape.  Repent of thy bloodthirstiness and cruelty.  Seek to make atonement.  Go and sin no more, lest a worse thing happen unto thee.”

Then turning from him with a slight gesture of repulsion, he said to Tom: 

“My son, we would take you to the safe shelter of our monastery home, till your comrade comes for you.  The way is something hard and long, but the moon and frost will help us.  Have you the strength to walk with us?—­for we would not leave you here, and it would be safer for all to travel without delay; albeit there be few so vile as to seek to do hurt to those who wear the habit of the servants of the Lord.”