Page:The silent prince - a story of the Netherlands (IA cu31924008716957).pdf/197

 He groaned as he realized his powerlessness to relieve the terrible situation. “O God!” he cried, “dost thou set no limit to the power of cunning wickedness to entrap and slay the unwary weak? Would that I could avenge my wrongs!”

The words came to him on the night wind, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord of Hosts.”

A sound from within caused him to hasten to the servant’s side. By the flickering light of the fire he saw that the old man was dying. He lifted his head, and Jacob opened his eyes.

“I thought it was morning!” he murmured in weak tones, and all was over. It truly was the morning for him, on whom the brightness of everlasting day was dawning.

A slight noise from outside caused the officer to glance around. Peering into the ruins was the face of a man, wild, vicious and unkempt, his remnants of clothes hanging in tatters about his wasted body. The semblance of manhood was well-nigh obliterated from the gaunt face, and his expression was that of a famished wild beast, crouching to spring upon his prey. Drawing his sword Reynold advanced upon the strange apparition, which fled with a mocking laugh into the depths of the forest.