So he spoke and said, "There is much that I may not tell thee, yet part
I will tell thee, for that I must. Thou hast heard how that my wife--"
But he could not continue, so dropped his face into my lady's hands,
and she waited for him, saying softly,
"I will understand what thou dost not say. Be not troubled, but speak
out thy soul to me;" and presently he told her more. As I do live, never
listened I to sadder story. So piteous it was that my tears fell down
like rain, and I was sore afraid that my sighing would discover my
whereabouts. But the Almighty is merciful even to sinners, and I
remained unnoted. 'Twas the old tale of love and treachery; a false wife
and a friend who was a villain.
The earl had killed the man (but in fair encounter), and his wife he had
brought back, never to be as husband to her more, but to preserve her
from further sin. And I do maintain that 'twas a noble act, and I did
quite forgive him the blood of his betrayer. Methought my lady did
forgive him too, for she did but stroke his hair softly, saying ever and
anon, "Poor soul!" or "God help thee!" And by-and-by he lifted his
face, and saith, "But the worst is yet to tell thee."