about fifty horse. Knowing that her husband was engaged in the destruction of the convent, and would not return till the next day, the dame locked her house, and, with her gentle charge, set out on their difficult and perilous enterprise.

It was now midnight, and, though there were several horsemen in the vicinity, there was not a sound to be heard. If the silence was broken at all, it was only by the gruff voice of a watchdog, or by the distant murmur that came from the ruined convent, the fires of which still threw a ruddy reflection upon the sky. Their route, however, lay in an opposite direction, and gradually these sounds, as well as the fire light, died away. They plodded on by a winding country road, each buried in her own reflections. Blanch thought of her danger from King Stephen and his troops, on the one hand, and the hardly less frightful alternative of throwing herself upon her lover for protection, on the other. The Saxon dame was chiefly occupied in devising answers to her husband, if he should come home before her return.

While they were thus pursuing their way as fast as the rough, frozen ground would permit,

they heard the tramp of horses in their rear. Their first idea was to fly; but whither? They were now on an open plain, with not an object at hand behind which they could conceal themselves. Their only hope was that the palmer's holy character would insure protection. They therefore went on, assuming as assured an air as possible, their limbs, however, trembling with anxiety. In a few minutes, the horsemen, about fifty in number, came up. The leader somewhat roughly addressed the two travellers, and, finding their answers vague and incoherent, caused them both to be mounted on horseback, and then rapidly pursued his march.

In about an hour, they reached a ruinous castle, and, the gate being immediately opened, they all passed in. The soldiers took their horses to the stables, and the two females were placed under the charge of a stout, gruff woman, who received sundry careful directions in a whisper, from the leader. In obedience to the directions she had received, the woman took them, through various obscure passages, to a remote room in the castle, and, without saying a word, left them to their reflections.

Blanch and her guide now began to confer

with each other, and put together the observations they had severally made. These, however, amounted to very little; for the men were generally taciturn, and, if they spoke, it was only in French, which neither of the females understood. The conclusion at which they arrived, however, was, that the troop belonged to some Norman knight in the service of Queen Matilda, and that they had been engaged that night with some of Stephen's men, who had burnt the convent; and, finally, that they had taken two or three Englishmen, among whom the Saxon dame strongly believed was her husband. She insisted that among the prisoners, who were on horseback, and who had been stationed at a little distance from her, in the march, she could, through the darkness, make out the figure of the Saxon farmer; and, moreover, she declared she could easily detect his voice, in the low murmurs which occasionally broke from his lips.

While they were discussing these points, heavy footsteps were heard in the passage, and the leader of the troop entered the room. The hearts of both females beat violently as they saw his features by the light of the torch which he bore. His chin and upper lip were entirely

covered with a harsh, black beard; and beneath his visor, which he still wore, his eyes seemed to shoot forth a peculiarly suspicious and sinister light. His form was short and massy, and bespoke a man of prodigious strength. He now sat down, and, after taking a deliberate look at both Blanch and her companion, fixed his eyes upon the former, and spoke as follows:

"So, this is some mummery: the seeming palmer is but a lass after all. I dare say you are a merry one. Pray, what can we do, in our castle, for your diversion, and that of your

buxom friend?"

"I must know first who and what you are," said Blanch.

66 Indeed, who and what I am? Is it come to this, that I must tell who and what I am? But no matter; you see what I am, and you will learn who I am, in time. So, what can I do for you? I am your slave, and you have but to command." "Take me to your master, Eustace St.

Maur."

This reply of Blanch evidently disconcerted the soldier, and, after a few further observations in a more respectful tone, he left the room. It was not long before he returned; but another

was with him.

her it was St.

The first glance of Blanch told Maur himself; but she moved The knight entered the room, and, casting a hasty look at the pilgrim, bent his eyes toward her companion. Having looked upon her for an instant, he turned to the soldier, and said impatiently, "Are you mocking me, Maulever? I am ill inclined for jest. I bid you beware of such sport!

"Nay, my lord," said Maulever, " before you run me through the body, pray take a look beneath the brim of that pilgrim's hat, and tell me if the eyes are not very like a pair you have seen before."

Eustace did as he was directed. At the same time, Blanch lifted her hat. St. Maur sprang to her, and she fell into her lover's arms. Her troubles were soon over, and she then directed his attention to the situation of her generous guide. The Saxon dame had judged rightly; for her husband was really a prisoner in the castle. She was permitted to take her own way in releasing him. She went to his room in the dungeon keep, and, after upbraiding him for allowing himself to be taken prisoner, she permitted him to go forth, and take his horse. She then