The Scot abruptly answered her: "Be not alarmed, lady, your parents have fallen into humane hands.

I am sent, under the command of this noble Southron knight, to conduct you to them." "Then my father lives! They are safe!" cried she, in a transport of joy, and bursting into tears.
"He yet lives," returned the officer; "but his wounds opening afresh, and the fatigues of his journey, have so exhausted him that Lord Aymer de Valence has granted the prayers of the countess, and we come to take you to receive his last blessing." A cry of anguish burst from the heart of Lady Helen, and falling into the arms of the prior, she found refuge from woe in a merciful insensibility.

The pitying exertions of the venerable father at last recalled her to recollection and to sorrow.

She rose from the bench on which he had laid her, and begged permission to retire for a few minutes; tears choked her further utterance, and, being led out by the friar, she once more reentered her cell.
Lady Helen passed the moments she had requested in those duties which alone can give comfort to the afflicted, when all that is visible bids us despair; and rising from her knees, with that holy fortitude which none but the devout can know, she took her mantle and veil, and throwing them over her, sent her attendant to the prior, to say she was ready to set out on her journey, and wished to receive his parting benediction.

The venerable father, followed by Halbert, obeyed her summons.