low-born retainers of the knight, as he had been if unknown and unrecked of.

After a short pause, a low murmur arose, and swelled to a long, deep, energetic cry." Be the lord of Hereward our leader; for he to whom we once vowed obedience claims it no longer!"

you

"Morcar of Hereward your leader!" echoed the noble. 66 Where, Saxons, would that he should lead you, when he knows not whither to bend his own steps-when he is powerless as the meanest among you, and heaps ruin and desolation on all who cling to his fortunes ?" He was silent for a moment; then striking his forehead, wildly, he hurriedly demanded" And the ladye of Sarum, where is she? in what bitter solitude does she curse him who has made her fatherless? Speak!" he vehemently exclaimed, as the silent vassals offered no reply" where is the ladye De Rossenville ?"

None knew or guessed; and again the lord of Hereward uttered rapidly-" I

see it all; but it may not be. Now may England indeed, even in her misery, weep tears of gladness over her priceless daughters. But De Lacy? Ah! must the ruin be complete? Not yet-not yet, if the life of Hereward may in aught avail. Farewell, men of Sarum! I go to save her to whom you yet owe allegiance."

"We will follow you!" shouted the Saxons.

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Not," exclaimed the noble Hereward, firmly, as with extended arm he guided their attention to the sweet moon, which seemed to smile on their devotion, "not till that silver light usurps the golden gleam of noontide." He paused, and then bitterly subjoined-" Not till your valour may avail somewhat to poor ruined England-till the Saxon Hereward may yield his plaudits to your truth in his own castle-hall, and again be free in his own land!" Then approaching the corse, he grasped its cold hand, and murmured, solemnly, as though the dead had heard, and could approve the vow" De Ros

senville, your child shall be restored to life and freedom: it is Hereward who swears it!"

"The night wears," said a Saxon near him, "and our lord is not yet entombed."

The noble waved his hand to the followers of the knight to bear him thence; but he spoke not: in equal silence he was obeyed.

Slow and heavy were the footfalls of the vassals, as they bore De Rossenville to the bed of valour: his funeral eulogy was the grief of devoted hearts, and his grave-torch the pale ray of an unclouded moon-meet light for such a burial!

The mantled corse was gently laid in its last narrow resting-place; the damp earth fell heavily on its breast; the vassals, with bent knee, murmured a silent orison for the departed soul; and the lord of Hereward, as he turned away, became once more a wanderer.

CHAP. XVI.

"Who can behold such beauty and be silent?

Oh! I could talk to thee for ever!

For ever fix and gaze on those dear eyes;

For every glance they send darts through my soul !"

An Interview.

WHAT was the potent spell, which moderated in the bosom of the fair De Rossenville her filial sorrowing, and made the violence of ungoverned grief subside into a calm and soul-subduing melancholy? She guessed not, even in her own heart, what sentiment upheld her amid such a chaos of misfortune; but as she quitted the royal presence, she instinctively raised her hand to the little gem which sparkled in her vest, as if to assure herself of its safety; and when her fair fingers had indeed closed over it, she followed

the silent steps of the prince, with a lighter heart, and a brighter eye, as she whispered to herself—“ I must yet look on him once more, be it only that he may redeem the pledge!"

The prince royal walked forward for some time in silence; but as he was about to quit the gallery, he suddenly paused, and grasped the hand of the Saxon lady with almost painful energy; no flush of anticipating vanity tinted the cheek of the lady of Rossenville, nor did her heart throb, or her eye glisten, with imaginary triumph; she remembered that it was the heir of England who was beside her, and that she herself, though high in blood, was now dependant on his royal father for protection and support, and calmly and respectfully she awaited his address.

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Ladye of Sarum," commenced the prince-then paused, and again grasped her hand with a yet more convulsive pressure, as he raised his eyes to her fair and placid, but sorrowing brow, as though he would have traced on that smooth tablet,