'Tell the hilding, when he returns, that thus Edward of March, fair to friends and terrible to foes, rewards the coward who disaffects the men of Yorkshire to their chief.' And by the blazing rafters, and the pale faces of the silent crowd, he rode on his way to battle and the throne!" Hilyard paused, and the anguish of his countenance was terrible to behold.
"I returned to find a heap of ashes; I returned to find my wife a maniac; I returned to find my child--my boy--great God!--he had run to hide himself, in terror at the torches and the grim men; they had failed to discover him, till, too late, his shrieks, amidst the crashing walls, burst on his mother's ear,--and the scorched, mangled, lifeless corpse lay on that mother's bosom!" Adam rose; his figure was transformed.

Not the stooping student, but the knight-descended man, seemed to tower in the murky chamber; his hand felt at his side, as for a sword; he stifled a curse, and Hilyard, in that suppressed low voice which evinces a strong mind in deep emotion, continued his tale.
"Blessed be the Divine Intercessor, the mother of the dead died too! Behold me, a lonely, ruined, wifeless, childless wretch! I made all the world my foe! The old love of liberty (alone left me) became a crime; I plunged into the gloom of the forest, a robber-chief, sparing--no, never-never--never one York captain, one spurred knight, one belted lord! But the poor, my Saxon countrymen, they had suffered, and were safe! "One dark twilight--thou hast heard the tale, every village minstrel sets it to his viol--a majestic woman, a hunted fugitive, crossed my path; she led a boy in her hand, a year or so younger than my murdered child.

'Friend!' said the woman, fearlessly, 'save the son of your king; I am Margaret, Queen of England!' I saved them both.

From that hour the robber-chief, the Lollard's son, became a queen's friend.

Here opened, at least, vengeance against the fell destroyer.