But the works of man are more transitory, and in them there is a great change.  The Norman castle rebuilt by Etienne stands where erst stood the Anglo-Saxon hall; the new Priory of St. Wilfred’s resembles that of St. Denys in architecture, although it bears the name of the old English saint, to whose honour the first sacred pile, erected by Offa of Aescendune was dedicated; the houses which dot the scene are of a more substantial character; stone is superseding wood.  Whatever were its darker features, the Norman conquest brought with it a more advanced civilisation, especially as expressed in architecture {xxx}.

Within her bower, as the retiring apartments of the lady of the castle were termed, sat Edith of Aescendune, not the first who had borne that name.  She had now passed middle age, and her years would soon number half a century, yet time had dealt very kindly with her, and but few shades of grey appeared amidst her locks.  The traces of a gentle grief were upon her, but men said she mourned for the absence of her lord and her eldest son, and her thoughts seemed far away from the embroidery at which she worked with her maidens—­an altar frontal for the priory church.

She thought of the far East—­of the sandy wastes of Syria.  Or her fancy painted the holy city, with her dear ones as worshippers in its reconquered shrines.

For she had not found an unkind lord in Etienne.  The scenes which he had passed through, as related in the earlier pages of this Chronicle, had produced fruit for good, which Lanfranc (under whose spiritual guidance he placed himself) had zealously tended and fostered.

He dared not think of his father, of whose guilt he could not but be unwillingly convinced; nor was it true in his case: 

“He who’s convinced against his will
Is but an unbeliever still.”

But there was one act of mercy of which he had been the object, which above all influenced and changed his heart towards the English.  And that was the Christian charity he had received from the aged Englishwoman, the nurse of Wilfred, whose son Eadwin he had so cruelly slain in the Dismal Swamp.

Acting under the advice of Lanfranc, he had sought and obtained Edith in marriage, and had thereby, like Henry Beauclerc, united the claims of conquerors and conquered in his person.  He had obtained from the king a promise of free pardon to all the refugees yet in the Dismal Swamp, where it will be remembered the poor English had fled, who were unfit to accompany Wilfred to the Camp of Refuge, and had thereupon invited them all to rebuild their old homes and dwell in them.

At first they would not trust him, but through the mediation of Father Kenelm and of poor old Hilda, he succeeded in gaining their confidence, and he did not betray their trust.

So Norman and Englishman were happily united at Aescendune, and in spite of some little difficulties, arising from the airs the conquerors could not help giving themselves, became more like one people daily; and in a few years, so many followed their lord’s example, and intermarried with the English, captivated by the beauty of the Anglo-Saxon maidens, that distinction of race became speedily abolished, and hence Aescendune was perhaps the happiest village in the distracted island.