ch, in favour with my
master and well contented with my lot. I had a wife whom I loved, and
she had born me a lovely boy, who was the very light of my eyes and the
joy of my heart. I should weary you did I tell you of all his bold
pranks and merry ways. He was, I verily believe, the loveliest child
that God's sun has ever looked down upon. When it pleased Him to take my
wife away from me after seven happy years, I strove not to murmur; for I
had still the child, and every day that passed made him more winsome,
more loving, more mettlesome and bold. Even the master would draw rein
as he passed my door to have a word with the boy; and little Mistress
Joan gave me many a silver groat to buy him a fairing with, and keep him
always dressed in the smartest little suit of forester's green. The
priest noticed him too, and would have him to his house to teach him
many things, and told me he would live to carve out a fortune for
himself. I thought naught too good for him. I would have wondered little
if even the King had sent for him to make of him a companion for his son.

"Perchance I was foolish in the boastings I made. But the beauty and the
wisdom of the boy struck all alike -- and thence came his destruction."

"His destruction?" echoed both brothers in a breath. "What! is he then
dead?"

"He is worse than dead," answered the father, in a hollow, despairing
voice; "he has been bewitched -- undone by foul sorcery, bound over hand
and foot, and given to the keeping of Satan. Even the priest can do
nothing for us. He is lost, body and soul, for ever."

The brothers exchanged wondering glances as they made the sign of the
cross, the old man watching the gesture with a bitter smile in his eye.
Then Raymond spoke again:

"But what was it that happened? we do not yet understand."

"I will tell you all. If you know this part of the world, young sirs,
you have doubtless heard of the old Manor of Basildene, where dwells
one, Peter Sanghurst by name, who is nothing more nor less than a
wizard, who should be hunted to death without pity. Men have told me (I
know not with what truth) that these wizards, who give themselves over
to the devil, are required by their master from time to time to furnish
him with new victims, and these victims are generally children -- fair
and promising children, who can first be trained in the black arts of
their earthly master, and are then handed over, body and soul, to the
devil, to be his slaves a