But with that relief came a greater access of fatigue than he had been conscious of before.

He had been spurred along the road by the sense of responsibility--by the feeling that the safety and perhaps the life of the young Prince of Wales depended in a great measure upon his sagacity, endurance, and foresight.

To get the prince to Leigh's Priory, beneath the care of the good monks who were stanch to the cause of the saintly Henry, was the one aim and object of his thoughts.

He had known all along that the last miles of the journey would be those most fraught with peril, and to lessen this peril had been the main purpose on his mind.

Having seen the prince start off on the direct path, so disguised that it was impossible to anticipate detection, he felt as though his life's work for the moment were ended, and heaving a great sigh of relief, he sank down upon a heap of dead leaves, and gave himself up to a brief spell of repose, which his weary frame did indeed seem to require.
The cold, together with the exhaustion of hunger and fatigue, sealed his senses for a brief space, and he remembered nothing more.