is it thou, cowardly oppressor, who, with a band of armed robbers at thy back, darest only to attack, and bear away an unoffending maiden, shrinking, even with all thy force, from the single arm of her protector. By the souls of my forefathers! I do but sully my knightly fame to cross swords with such a niddard, who is only worth a leathern thong, a tall tree, and the hand of a forest hangman."

"Which shall be thine own doom, proud braggart, ere the day darkens," replied the Constable, his lip quivering again with rage, and his voice hoarse with passion. "Hand to hand would I have met thee in the lists like a true knight, but thou hast thrust thine own head into the wolf's mouth, and I am not fool enough to forego the advantage I have over thee. Thy prowess I admit; but wert thou Sathanas himself, thy chance would be but a sorry one against the power which now opposes thee. Hell has sent thee hither that I might revel in full hatred of my revenge. Soldiers, strike deep! a pound of gold will I give to him who makes the widest rent for his soul to escape!" Saying which, he hastily resumed his helmet.

It was a fearful and perilous situation which the lovely Edith occupied, as she stood behind her lover and brave kinsman, an unwilling witness of that terrible contest. A javelin, which was hurled with furious speed, parted the silken ringlets of the maiden, and was within two inches of piercing her white, slender, and beautiful neck, which King John had compared to a pillar of ivory, and which, from a girl, had obtained her the epithet of Edith the "swannecked."

The doorway, which the two knights so bravely defended (against a score of armed men) was built in an arch, and corresponded in form with the vaulted passage, which was occupied by the constable and his followers. There was no window at the further end of this archway, nor any other light, saving that which escaped through an open doorway in the midst of the passage, which led into the very apartment which the knights had at first occupied. The entrance, by which John of Chester's. followers had arrived to his assistance, was through a winding gallery, the opening to which was comparatively dark.

The imagination could not conjure up a more

stirring or dangerous scene than that which presented itself in the vaulted and gloomy passage. The faces of the contending warriors wore a dull bronzy hue, while their weapons, as they were brandished to and fro, occasionally caught a ray of straggling light, which flashed back again upon their armour. Here and there was seen a contracted brow anxiously watching stroke upon stroke, while their bodies swayed hither and thither as if they themselves were dealing the blows in which they were so deeply interested, and which the narrowness of the passage prevented them from sharing in.

Foremost was the constable, wielding, with both hands, a weighty battle-axe, which cut many a deep stroke into the broad oaken plank, which the brave earl had snatched up hastily for a shield.

Beside the earl stood Henry Gloomglendell; and well did he maintain that fame which he had so deservedly won by his prowess, for his action resembled more the sweeping evolutions of the eagle, circling in its own airy element, than that of a man wielding a weighty weapon, and defending himself against a band of assailants. Sometimes he stepped up to the very

teeth of his enemies, and drove them back by dint of a few terrible blows. Then again he was by the side of the beautiful but dejected maiden, breathing a few words of hope and comfort, during the brief interval that his opponents gave back.

Well was it for John of Chester that his limbs were encased in armour, and that of the best, and that the earl had but his crosshandled sword, in place of that battle-axe, against which no mail had hitherto been proof. Like an infuriated bull, struggling to regain the lowing heifer beyond his ranged assailants, did the constable try to beat down the knights, and force his way to Edith; but he had to deal with men who had never turned back on a foe, and whose hands were knit to their swords, until either death or victory decided the contest. Nor were the soldiers who supported the constable afraid of facing the knights, but as one or other of them were struck down and removed, their companions stepped readily into their places, in spite of the fate that awaited them.

Hitherto the blows had been dealt at random, each party stepping forward or retreating as chance seemed to direct; but at length the

earl and constable came hand to hand, for Gloomglendell beat back every soldier that stepped forward to support their leader. In the centre of the doorway they stood front to front. The plume that decorated the helmet of Chester swept the low brow of the archway, as it waved to and fro in the contest, and his uplifted battle-axe glittered again in the light, as it rose and descended in quick succession, with such force as would have brought to the earth any other than the powerful warrior who withstood its blows.

The massy oaken plank which the earl interposed between himself and the searching strokes dealt by his enemy, was of such weight, that it seemed a marvel how one single arm could shift it, with as much apparent ease as if it had but been a light shield. The sword which he wielded passed harmless over the constable's mail, nor, in spite of all the blows he had struck, had it as yet loosened a rivet, or cut through a fastening of his armour; as for himself his breast alone was defended by a light habergeon, or breastplate.

As yet John of Chester had done nothing more than hack away portions of the temporary