"Honour prevents. And after all, you had better say goodbye at once
to those at home, and be off: perhaps I had better say goodbye for
thee--it will be safest."

A few more parting instructions, and they separated; the young
thrall actually kneeling and kissing his young lord's hand with
that devoted love nought save such obligations could give.

Wilfred was returning to the castle, when he met Pierre, who was
evidently seeking him.

"Wilfred," he said, "I have come to offer you my services for
tomorrow; you will want the offices of a friend."

"Art thou my friend?"

"Yes, since I see thou art not a coward. While I saw thee suffering
insult after insult without ever resenting them, I thought thee
craven, and could not speak thee fair; now thou art as one of us."

"Thou art not like other Normans, then."

"I am not Norman, but Breton, and perhaps we do not love the
Normans over much in Brittany; at least, I can feel for one in thy
position."

"Thanks," was all that Wilfred could stammer out.

These were almost the first kind words he had heard since his
mother's death, save in those stolen moments when he had been alone