ers on his way to Flanders, with
communications and money for Robert. The name of this messenger was
Sampson. William seized the money and the letters, and sent the
messenger to one of his castles, to be shut up in a dungeon. Then, with
the proofs of guilt which he had thus obtained, he went, full of
astonishment and anger, to find Matilda, and to upbraid her, as he
thought she deserved, for her base and ungrateful betrayal of her
husband.

The reproaches which he addressed to her were bitter and stern, though
they seem to have been spoken in a tone of sorrow rather than of anger.
"I am sure," he said, "I have ever been to you a faithful and devoted
husband. I do not know what more you could have desired than I have
done. I have loved you with a sincere and true affection. I have honored
you. I have placed you in the highest positions, intrusting you
repeatedly with large shares of my own sovereign power. I have confided
in you--committing my most essential and vital interests to your charge.
And now this is the return. You employ the very position, and power, and
means which your confiding husband has put into your hands, to betray
him in the most cruel way, and to aid and encourage his worst and most
dangerous enemy."

To these reproaches Matilda attempted no reply, except to plead the
irresistible impetuosity and strength of her maternal love. "I could not
bear," she said, "to leave Robert in distress and suffering while I had
any possible means of relieving him. He is my child. I think of him all
the time. I love him more than my life. I solemnly declare to you, that
if he were now dead, and I could restore him to life by dying for him, I
would most gladly do it. How, then, do you suppose that I could possibly
live here in abundance and luxury, while he was wandering homeless, in
destitution and want, and not try to relieve him? Whether it is right or
wrong for me to feel so, I do not know; but this I know, I _must_ feel
so: I can not help it. He is our first-born son; I can not abandon him."

William went away from the presence of Matilda full of resentment and
anger. Of course he could do nothing in respect to her but reproach her,
but he determined that the unlucky Sampson should suffer severely for
the crime. He sent orders to the castle where he lay immured, requiring
that his eyes should be put out. Matilda, however, discovered the
danger which threatened her messenger in time to send him warning. He
contri