so obliterated were the characters that it would have little mattered to the writer. Whether it was from a feeling of security on this point, or because the writing was really unimportant, cannot be known, but he calmly acknowledged it to be his; and added, that it was an answer to an application for alms, which he had received from the friar.

"Please you, reverend Father," said some one present," who might be this friar John?"

"He was a mendicant of St. Peter's Priory, near Cassel," the Abbot answered; "I knew little more of him than this; we are accustomed to many such,—so many truly, that the list of their names is longer than my memory. I chance, however, to remember this poor friar's, it was Zannecq."

"True!" said Robert, turning towards the questioner, and then glancing at the King with a slight smile; "and when I first did hear it mentioned, it struck upon mine ear as one not quite unknown to it; I have since learned that he was brother to one Zannecq-a woollen chapman of Mount Cassel-a rebel, who in

times gone by and now-happily!-forgotten, revolted the caitiff!-from the mild empire of his Lord."

If-as is commonly enough the case-people are apt to forget benefits, they nevertheless can remember perfectly well the being taunted with them. Philip felt the reproach. stooped his head for a moment, inclining it towards some papers which lay before him.

He

The Abbot marked "the angry spot upon his brow," and, feeling the imprudence of which his friend had just been guilty, wished to lessen the evil likely to arise from it so took advantage of an ensuing pause to change the current of the conversation, and direct the thoughts both of the King and his council into a different channel.

"Your Grace," he began, addressing himself to the Monarch, "by the perusal of this letter perceiveth that a murder hath been committed -not only murder, but that sacrilege hath been done; for it was a son and servitor of the Church who fell a victim to the brutal violence of some unholy robber. I would entreat it of your

Grace, and not I alone entreat it, but, the holy Prior, the spiritual Father of the murdered, who, hearing of my design to journey hitherward, besought that I would lay the case before your Grace-entreateth it.-And again, not simply we, the ministers of the cross entreat, but Christ himself, and our most holy Mother Church entreat, nay do command, that you be pleased to take this felony into your serious thought, and use those means which God hath given to you, as Sovereign of his people, to bring to light this act, and unto condign punishment the actors in it."

Holy Abbot," replied the King, "remain at peace, and rest assured no step shall be untrodden, and no path unsought, which may bring to judgment the author of this atrocious wickedness. We will not suffer the laws of our kingdom to be broken, nor ourselves thus set at nought. Had not your Reverence craved it for a boon, our conscience had nathless commanded it as a duty. We will see to it Be content."

"My Lord," the Abbot rejoined, "I hitherto

VOL. I.

have craved your gracious aid in this, because as holding no small rank amid the children of the Church, as also in the realm, I deemed it meet to use that influence which my years and station give me with your Grace, to bring unto due punishment all faytors who have so offended.

"But please you, my most gracious Lord, there is another point-and one more relative unto the matter which doth now hold these Lords assembled-in which I wish your Grace might view this murder.-My Liege, not only was the assassination atrocious, cruel and sacrilegious, but it was also strange. My Sovereign Liege-I do implore your ear!

"A casket,--the contents of which-so said the donor were such as, seen, would justify your Grace in ousting Otho from the lands demised to him, and in investing Robert, Count of Artois, with them,-is, with much secresy and caution, placed in the keeping of the latter by a monk, professing him of my community.

The Count of Artois comes before your

Grace,lays forth the documents for inspection, and claims his right. The Lord of Flanders discovers in them, that which he thinks sufficient to justify an enquiry into their authenticity, ere the Sire D'Artois' prayer be granted. Wherefore did he thus? -Wherefore was he, amongst so many, the only one who doubted?-Was it an act of love to doubt ?—If not so, was it hate which whetted his suspicion? If not these, was it a desire of justice which caused him be thus curious?-I know not this.

"Howbeit the Seigneur of Artois announceth a design of travelling to St. Omer, and of seeking out the one who seized him of this heben arke in question. The sickness of the Lady Countess, his espoused, detaineth him— I do implore your Grace's strict attention !— The sickness of the Lady Countess, his espoused, detaineth him in Paris for a space of fifteen days. At last he arriveth at St. Omer, and -as to the one most fit to aid him in the quest-presenteth him to me.

"The long delay necessitated by that sick