"It was I, my lord, who held the torch which illuminated the dark
forest, and it was between the trunks of the oaks and pines that I saw
first a horse extended on the motionless body of a warrior."

_Arnold_. And this warrior----

_Ethbert_. Was Theobald! Yes, my lord, it was he who had just, as he
thought, struck your death-blow.

_Arnold_. And who directed your steps thither, at night?

_Ethbert_. God, himself. O, what a work of his wonderful love! Yes, God
himself guided your noble father and your son to the Stag Cliffs at the
moment when Theobald, flying before the two chevaliers, passed through
the defile of the wood; and your father summoned Matthew and myself to
descend there with him.

_Arnold, (with adoration.)_ My father! sent from God to the murderer of
his son? How wonderful are the ways of the Most High! But, Ethbert, did
you not say that he was dead?

_Ethbert_. We thought so. But your pious and benevolent father, my lord,
knelt, touched the supposed, corpse, and exclaimed, "He is not dead!"
and aided by our hands, disengaged him. He extended him on the mossy
ground, called for water, bathed and refreshed the pale countenance of
the chevalier; his life returned, and your father glorified God.

"Theobald is living!" said Arnold, lifting towards heaven his eyes
filled with tears. "O, who will make it known to his wife and children?"