"Cheer thee, noble Knight; be not afraid for a woman. Thou hast, princely Reginald, many valorous and knightly qualities; the least of which might win a richer bride than the daughter of Leofwyn and the sister of Lothaire. Surely thou dost obtain honour at those splendid jousts, from which thou knowest our Saxon habits do utterly revolt; and, doubtless, thou hast skill in foreign music, which thou knowest our Saxon ears do utterly detest; and thou art also skilled in that foreign language which thou knowest a Saxon doth so loath, that he would have his tongue torn from his throat rather than give utterance to its accents."

66

Brother," said Reginald, who began to perceive the necessity of conciliating Lothaire, "I have meddled but little with courts; and, in my ignorance of these accomplishments, I am a perfect Saxon. But I prithee tell me, in love and fellowship, by what means or endeavours it is possible for me to win the good-will of thy sister."

66

"I will show thee," said Lothaire : " First, thou must learn to speak, not tardily through thy teeth, as is thy present method, but boldly, openly, and fearlessly, as one man should do to another."

"Whether this be possible, I doubt,” observed Reginald.

"Secondly," said his instructor, "at my father's board thou must not be too ready to relinquish the goblet."

66 I will do thee reason- -I will do thee reason, Sir Lothaire," returned Reginald,-" Marry, I shall need but little instruction upon that head:" and he strained his eye as he spoke, in the direction of Kennet-hold, as if he would measure the space which lay between his lip and the flagon.

66

Thirdly," resumed Lothaire, "thou must hate a Norman as thou wouldest hate the foul fiend."

66

"I do," cried Reginald; "I do hate a Norman: the Norman we parted from e'en now-Richard de Mallory.

A blight upon him! he hath bound me, scoffed at me, worried my body and my mind, until I can scarcely keep my saddle on my journey, or recollect whither the journey tendeth. A murrain on the proud knight! Doth he fancy that I care aught whether the father or the son hath the better? whether the Henry I serve be called the second or the third ?"

"If I may risk prophecy," muttered the Saxon, "thou wilt never see the third Henry wearing his father's crown. We have worn the yoke of your tyrants long enough; and it is time that the throne of Alfred should be again filled by one of his descendants. Despised and oppressed as we are, there are still true Saxons enow to drive ye headlong from the land ye have spoiled."

The two young men had continued to ride as far apart as courtesy and their road would permit; and the line of conversation into which they had fallen did not seem likely to promote kinder feelings between them. Reginald's national prejudices began to rise high within him, and to overpower the want of energy which was his failing. "Sir Lothaire,” he replied doggedly, "methinks thou hast forgotten Hastings."

and

"Sir Knight," said his companion, in a melancholy voice, "it is not possible for thee or for me to forget Hastings. Thine ancestor did obtain there power, title, and riches; mine did win nothing but honour and his grave: the chance may be ours in another field. If valour and desert in arms had had their meed, the bastard of Normandy had never set foot upon the corpse of Harold."

"Thou errest, thou errest, good brother," said Reginald unthinkingly. "The single arm of King William was sufficient to beat down Harold and his brothers' to boot. Thine ancestor himself, Sir Lothaire, was light in the balance when weighed with the least of our Norman chivalry!"

"Norman liar!" exclaimed Lothaire, and immediately giving his horse the spur, and causing him to make a demi-volte, which brought him close to his companion's side, he raised his ponderous arm, and dealt with his mailed hand so terrible a blow between the corselet and headpiece of his future brother-in-law, that Launcelot reeled upon his haunches, and his rider fell to the ground without sense or motion. Lothaire gazed for a moment upon the fallen Knight; and then, after beckoning to Robin to come up, put his horse into a hand-gallop, and continued his route.

:

Robin, when the formidable Saxon was out of sight, ventured to approach the scene of the fracas. Piteous was the sight which presented itself. Launcelot was standing beneath a neighbouring tree, still trembling with the shock he had received. Reginald lay motionless in the dust his bright armour was soiled with earth and blood, which gushed out plentifully from his mouth and nostrils. Robin took off his helmet, and endeavoured, by throwing water over his features, to restore animation. After having spent a long time in the vain endeavour, he looked upon his fallen patron with an expression of utter despair, and muttered to himself, "My master is certainly dead ;--and there will be no wedding, nor revel, nor wassailing." He continued for some minutes in deep contemplation, and then exclaimed, "An my project hold good, I will be revenged on the Saxon churl." And with these words he began to dis

arm his master.

While these incidents were taking place among those personages to whom our attention has been hitherto confined, the state of the inhabitants of Kennet-hold was such as calls for our notice. The MS., indeed, from which I draw this narrative, goes through all the minute particulars of Reginald's journey, until it sets him down at the gate of his father-in-law; but, to avoid greater prolixity than is necessary, I will reserve this explana

tion for my denouement: and for the present leaving my hero on his bed of earth, I will introduce my reader, without further delay, to the hall at Kennet-hold.

Every thing seemed to be in a state of unusual confusion at the residence of the Saxon. This was, no doubt, partly to be attributed to the extraordinary preparations made by the cooks, and to the wish of the domestics to appear in the sprucest attire before the eyes of the Norman guest. But there was something more than this in the bustle which pervaded Kennet-hold. There seemed to be in every countenance, from the swineherd to the thane, the consciousness of some concealment, some unspeakable secret lingering on the lips, and awaiting a fit opportunity for disclosure. Many of the menials were staring at each other in silence, although they had abundant occupation before them; and many were looking inordinately busy, although it was their chance to have nothing to do. The expression of their faces was various. In some you could perceive little more than a repressed desire to laugh; but on the features of the higher sort of vassals you might read pride, contempt, resentment, together with a visible exultation, which plainly told that all these vindictive feelings were on the eve of gratification.

Leofwyn himself was seated on the chair of his hall, beneath a scarlet canopy, in all the rude state which his Saxon prejudices permitted. He was of short stature, with a round good-humoured face, which spoke, as plainly as face could speak, that its owner was willing to be upon friendly terms with the rest of the world, if the rest of the world would give him leave. In fact Leofwyn was of a disposition to prefer the beginning of a banquet to the conclusion of a broil; and if he had been at liberty to consult his own inclination, there would have been much wine, and but very little blood, poured out annually by the retainers of Kennet-hold. Many causes however conspired to make these pacific qualities of no

effect. In the first place, the chief had an hereditary feud to support against the invaders of the land; and although he himself saw nothing in these foreigners which should deserve his malediction, he deemed it his duty to hate them most religiously, because his father had done so before him. Secondly, his son Lothaire was of a terribly violent temper, and was always seeking an opportunity for embroiling his father with some Norman landholder, and thirdly, this opportunity was frequently afforded by the predatory attacks of the surrounding nobles.

In the retaliation which Leofwyn exercised for these outrages, he frequently put in practice some cunning and jocose device, which accorded ill with the professions of hate and enmity which he was perpetually making. For instance, it appears that when the vassals of Sir Robert de Vallice had made considerable depredations upon the Saxon's swine, he carried off the only son of the offender, and after confining him in company with the porkers for a night and a day, sent him back to Sir Robert, with a message that "he had sent him his swineherd also." Such freaks as these had among his dependents secured to him the reputation of having a right sharp wit: among his powerful neighbours he was considered little better than a madman, in consequence of which, amidst the oppressions to which his race was daily subject, he had been allowed to pass his days in despised security.

Upon the present occasion it seemed that he had some unusually clever design in view. He was perpetually giving some instructions to the domestics, in a tone of voice mysteriously low, and again relapsing into deep and silent meditation. In short, in the anxiety which he evinced for the approaching nuptials, he showed all the assiduity and precaution of a modern match-maker. Reginald did not come at the appointed time; the old man began to grow` impatient; he asked for his son.