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The Child of the Moat

CHAPTER VIII REMORSE

Word Count: 1197    |    Released on: 17/11/2017

Thomas? Thomas was not a man to be trusted. At any moment he might find it to his own interests to tell what he knew

isle, but for that reason he avoided it. He would go south, he would make his

at he actually got as far as Lancaster the next night. Here he thoug

ning, silent moat returned to him. "Meddlesome brat," he muttered to himself, "you got what you deserved." The thought, however, would not depart but kept returning to him, and his

as drawn sharply from his hand and closed. For a moment he dared not move, but stood trembling, waiting, expectant. He heard a distant horse on the cobble stones, then absolute silence save the low wailing whistle of a gust of wind. It seemed to bring back Aline's li

He leaped up and frantically slipped on his clothes, while they were knocking for admission. Should he try and escape down the stairs or through the window, down into the yard o

g limply from the shoulders and the head falling over to one side, with the mouth open and a great gash above the forehead. It came nearer still. He tried to get away from the window, but something held him. He strove and struggled in vain. "Oh, that terrible mouth, that blood in the long wet hair."

g a crowd of other persons with lanthorns by the side of the moat at Holwick. A little figure was being drawn up from the water. He saw it carried in over the drawbridge, where the old arms of the Mowbrays looked down,-argent, a cross engrailed azure;[11] but he dared not follow. He seemed

ld silver or white, the cross

figure in the crowd turned back. It was Audry. She came slowly up to him and looked from him to the grave and from the

as lead and he seemed to slip back a pace for every step he took forward. Finall

ding him in the courtyard of Holwick came back to him,-"little St. Aline," as the villagers called her. Oh! how could he have

do that! But the love of life is strong. Though he were dead, she would not come to life again; the only thing that seemed to offer any interest or ho

ake his way to London. But the agony of his remorse would hardly allow him to sit his steed an

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