for a few moments in silent wonder. His eyes, which were remarkable for their great and almost languid softness, actually seemed to emit sparks of fire; his brows were firmly knit; his teeth set; his dress was in disorder; his collar torn open, his doublet on the floor; while in his hand he held a paper, almost gnawn into shreds; and the very ground on which he trod showed evidence of his excitement, the rushes and flowers with which it had originally been strewn being brushed away by his hasty steps until a complete path was made from one end of the room to the other. Along this path, which gave the stone flooring of the room fully to view, Henry continued to stride, his large steel spurs ringing at every step; and this, for some time, was the only sound heard in the apartment.

As he watched this outburst of passion, Becket said nothing; but inwardly he triumphed. The nature that had one weak point might also have others. He had often secretly mourned, while he admired, the striking superiority of Henry. He would much have preferred weakness;

above all, he dreaded the calmness and self-command which he knew by experience masters men. This fear was now dissolved. His idol had a failing-a flaw-a foiblewhich, for the moment, brought him down to the level of other men. At the moment of this discovery, Becket felt he was henceforth the sovereign of his own destiny. His calculation was rapidly made; but firmly did it sink into the ever-watchful mind of the scheming man, thus suddenly called to read at a glance the future and the past.

There was but one other person present, when Becket entered, during this ebullition of temper on the part of Henry. The Lord de Clifford, pale and full of consternation, leant upon a high table a little apart, but so little removed from the centre of the room that the angry monarch, as he passed and re-passed, almost brushed against the furred robe in which he was wrapped; though he gave no sign of recognition, nor seemed conscious of his presence. At any other time, the stately

baron would have ill brooked this coldness or neglect; but Henry was his guest, and

courtesy quelled the pride that would have taken alarm. He stood looking on the King with interest, with pity, but not with wonder; for the irritability of Henry was known to most of those who had lived with him in habits of intimacy.

After a considerable time passed in solemn silence, during which, as the King paced backwards and forwards, he tore into minute pieces the paper he held in his hand, Becket, presuming that he had not been sent for merely to stand spectator, approached De Clifford, and inquired, in a tone loud enough to attract the attention of the King, the cause of his displeasure. Henry started as the sound of his voice reached him, for his abstraction was so deep that he was not even aware of the presence of Becket; but, immediately on perceiving him, he paused in his hasty walk, and as he looked at him, a shade of sorrow seemed to soften the countenance hitherto only inflamed by rage.

"Tell him, my lord," he said, turning to Lord de Clifford, "how our commands have been obeyed, and our friendship estimated. He will then see the minds

over which we have to rule; and the hearts on which to depend."

Henry said these words with an effort that showed how deeply the subject pained him; and then, although with a somewhat more subdued manner, re-commenced his walk.

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'My lord the King is angry, as well he may be," said De Clifford, turning to Becket; "and deeply do I grieve that such an event should have taken place while my poor house was honoured by the presence of my royal master. There has been a fierce quarrel between Henry de Essex and William de Montfort, which appears unlikely to end without bloodshed."

"A quarrel!" exclaimed Becket; "and on what pretext, I pray you? It was but as I left the hall I saw them playing at dice together."

"They did play together, and the night was wellnigh spent," rejoined De Clifford, "when, on some dispute arising, De Essex taxed De Montfort with cowardice, in having patiently endured some threat he had used towards him in the morning, during the hawking. De Montfort re

torted by reproaching De Essex, in a voice of thunder, with his conduct at the battle of Basingwerk some years since."

“Ha!” said Becket, "if I remember aright, it was at the battle of Basingwerk that De Essex was said to have thrown away the standard of the King."

"More than that," replied De Clifford, "he is reported to have fled before the enemy, crying out that the King was slain."

“And if I," interposed Henry, as he stopped short in front of the speakers, "had not by good-fortune instantly appeared, and arrested my own troops in their flight, the day would have been lost, and the honour of England tarnished. Heaven only knows the difficulty I had to rally the tired and panic-stricken men, who already felt the long knives of the Welsh savages at their throats. The cowardice of De Essex had like to have cost me dear."

"Cowardice is a mild word for treason, my lord," said De Clifford gravely; for it had ever been the general opinion that the foul action of De Essex had been premeditated, though, as Henry had forborne all