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dwarf hath served me. But for his warning, I might again have fallen into this tyrant's power."

"I could almost love the wretch," replied Blanch, "were he not so hideous, (and I could forget the gallant outlaw,) for the service he hath this night done us. Nay, by my creed, I would sooner be compelled to join my fate with his, rather than be again deprived of your presence. Never shall I forget the tears I shed over your wimple and hood, when you were absent, until I could scarce see the distant forest, or look out upon the open heath, so dim had mine eyes grown with weeping;" and the pearly drops again chased each other down her cheeks, while she recalled to memory the anguish she had undergone, during the absence of her fair mistress.

"Thou art a good maiden, Blanch," said Edith; "and I often pined for thy presence during my short captivity, and felt at a loss when I had not thy froward tongue to rebuke. Nay, I could almost shed tears to bear thee

company, when I think of those moments which I spent in watching the sunbeams pass over the parchment, and in wrestling with this ruffianly baron. The holy Virgin be thanked,” added she, lifting her divine eyes to heaven, "for the aid she sent to my deliverance."

"Then to think of the wretch venturing hither," said Blanch: "marry, I felt as if I could scarce keep the nails on my fingers, but thought that they would every moment fly off and settle in his cheeks; but I scratched the arras, just to contain myself. And what would have befallen us, had not Sir Henry of Gloomglendell been present ?"

"I would not fear trusting my safety in the strong arm of Druth," replied Edith; "as for the Constable of Chester, he is but a coward, or he would not have refused to meet the Earl of Eltham in single combat, when he was challenged. One thing hath my misfortunes done; they have reconciled my kinsman, to Gloomglendell, otherwise he might have adhered to the king and De Marchmont."

"And the poor Saxon maiden," said Blanch: my heart bled when she pleaded for her father; would she but say the half of what she uttered here, methinks his majesty could not deny her boon."

"I know not that," replied Edith; "he is a tyrant, and cruel as the hungry wolf; and I would not like to cross his path when he is in an angry mood. De Marchmont, also, presides over the court of Eyre: I wot but too well how this trial will terminate. But Gloomglendell bids me take comfort,-and I have faith in his word."

But, leaving the lady and her attendant to discuss these matters, we must follow the Constable of Chester, who was led into a small chapel in one of the transepts of the priory, to be dealt with according to his deserts.

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THE Constable of Chester was dragged per force into the small chapel, which was generally appropriated to acts of penance, and where corporeal punishment was inflicted on those friars who were reluctant to scourge their own shoulders, and on such of the domestics as had trans

gressed the rules of the order. The cell was devoid of ornament, saving a rude crucifix cut out from the wall, a bench, and a wooden frame, to which the culprits were fastened. Several lighted torches were stuck in the iron branches on the wall, or held by the assembled friars. Some of them also held lashes of whipcord, and thongs of leather, in readiness for the operation. Several similar instruments of torture hung around the walls, and were always in readiness, should any of the holy brethren, in a pious fit, feel inclined to scourge their bodies in private, just by the way of penitential recreation, and as a set-off against some affront done to the soul. Many of the burly brotherhood believed that the constable was none other than the abbot of Lincoln, who had been taken in such a very unclerical deed, as attempting to carry of a noble maiden. Nor did it prove of any avail, when he began to plead and explain his true character; for some of them shook their heads, as if in doubt of the truth; and others only replied, that he laboured under the power of the

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