yet you saw the brightness that beamed underneath as clearly as you may trace the sun under the thinnest vapour. She sat gracefully in her saddle; nor needed in the least the aid of her companion, who, however, neglected not every opportunity of seizing the reins of her palfrey, whenever any slight obstacle presented itself on the road.

The knight had again reined in his steed before the entrance of one of those paths, which, diverging from the main road, led deeper into the forest. The one by which they now halted was broad and beaten, and bespoke a greater probability of leading them to some hamlet, than any they had hitherto passed. His eye also swept narrowly the opposite barrier of trees, as if he sought for some mark amongst them, by which he might shape his course into the thicket. The lady also slackened her bridle, and her palfrey began to make the most of his time, by snatching a few mouthfuls of the moist green grass, with which that part of the forest was so richly carpeted.

"Said not the peasant, that we were to quit the high-road, when we had passed the scathed oak?" inquired the lady, in Norman French,

and in a voice which would have made music of the harshest language.

"The foul fiend fly away with the ignorant churl," answered the knight, in an angry tone. "We have already passed three blasted trees, which time and tempest have marred into skeletons. Had the knave but possessed a jot more observation than his own swine, he might have pointed out some mark, by which we could have distinguished it from the rest, had it but been a cloven branch or a blacker stem. Beshrew the varlet! I have half a mind to hurry back, and bray him with his own quarter-staff."

"And leave me here, a prey to wolves, or outlaws, or the ghost of some old warrior which haunts these glades," said the maiden with an affected affright, which drew a smile from the solemn countenance of her companion. "Marry, that would be courteous, and right knightly done, my noble kinsman, and would add a boar's head to thy ragged staff, should you chance to survive a combat with an unarmed herdsman."

"Thou art merry, maiden," replied the knight, "and bearest thyself well, for one so young, and likely to repeat both vesper and matin in these wild woods, unless, indeed, we are fortunate

enough to thread our way through some of these perplexing paths, for by the length of our shadows, the sun will be down, ere we can advance another league.

The smile fled the lady's face, when she heard this announcement so seriously delivered, and the thoughts of having to pass a night in the forest, checked for a moment the gaiety of her spirits, and caused her to examine more cautiously the trees which they passed, for they had again resumed their journey.

As they rode along in silence, the sound of a distant bell smote their ears, and when they drew up to listen, it grew faint, and afar off, until it was lost amid the loud cooing of a ringdove from the neighbouring thicket.

"By the Holy Virgin," exclaimed the knight, "if my ears err not, yonder sound is the vesperbell of Newstead Priory, and we have already ridden far beyond the avenue which should have conducted us thither. I trust that yonder sound will waft to thee a portion of the devotion of the holy friars; for by the mass, it stirreth my memory, more to the remembrance of pasties than prayers. I can better think of sirloins than my sins, and would almost be willing to

don a priest's stole, if it would bring me nearer to the larder."

"Out upon thee, for a craven knight," said the maiden; "thou, who hast so often been proclaimed conqueror at the tournament, to talk of hunger. Surely, thou hast some little phial containing an elixir, that will support thyself, and steed, through the longest journey, heal every wound, and render thee invisible to either giant or griffin, like one of King Arthur's knights."

"I lack not one thing, which was as constant as their own shadows, to those enchanted hornblowers," answered the knight, good humouredly.

"Thou wouldst say, a silly damsel, I doubt not," replied the maiden, with a stifled sigh. "Nay, thou might'st have added, one in distress; and yet you see, sir knight, I make but light of my troubles." Her countenance underwent a change as she spoke, which, in despite of what she had uttered, bespoke that her feelings were then serious.

"Nay! now thou interpretest too shrewdly for me," replied her companion; "and art leading me into un-knightly adventures. Few, methinks, in thy wildest romances, battled

with laws.-Thou art a ward of the Crown, and the splintering of a thousand lances would not alter the power, which is now in his Majesty's hands. Beside, De Marchmont is held in high esteem by the King, and he could not break the promise so solemnly given."

"I speak not of that," answered the maiden. "Anne of Burton was a ward of the Crown's, and yet, King John permitted her to bestow her hand on whom she chose, for payment of five-hundred marks. I would add double that amount to his exchequer, yet, he who breaks his oath and promises daily, cannot withdraw his pledge to this De Marchmont. But I vow to thee that before I will thus be wedded, nay, sold like a fatted oxen that hath no will of its own, I will sooner betake myself to the nunnery which my mother endowed, and give all my broad lands to the building and establishing of some monastery. I like not this king, nor will I be subject to these Norman innovations."

"And yet thy father was a Norman," replied the knight, smiling, "and a framer of these very laws. But come, put on thy palfrey, or the night will speedily overtake us."