sounding the inmost recesses of the heart of Henry upon points which were not always

accessible.

Having bidden adieu to Rosamond, Father Thomas hastily quitted her chamber, and concealing the letter in the folds of his cloak, descended the turret stairs with somewhat unbecoming alacrity. The gravity of his calling might have prompted a calmer step; but to Becket, intent solely upon one purpose, every moment was precious, and to read the secret thoughts of the King was to him like looking into the book of fate. With haste that extracted many an exclamation of terror from the wondering Jacqueline, the prior now swung himself down the narrow and tortuous stair; but his anxiety was doomed to disappointment, for no sooner had he reached the bottom than a hand was laid upon his, and the tall figure of Lord de Clifford encountered his gaze.

"Becket," said he, somewhat hurriedly, "I must speak with you. I want your assistance and advice."

"An hour hence, my lord," began Becket, who was burning with impatience

to reach the King; but De Clifford interrupted him.

"Not so: it must be now. I want to consult you. An hour hence and it may be too late. Besides," he continued, as Becket, yielding to his entreaty, followed him into the great hall, "I have a secret to tell you.

The word was balm to the agitated heart of the prior, although sorely vexed at this inopportune delay; and he quickened his step as he strode after the lord of the castle, who, avoiding the crowd at the upper end of the hall, took his course to the lower, and having found refuge in one of the deep embrasures of the wall, pointed lightly to the gay groups upon the dais, and whispered in the ear of Becket. Loud was the sound of laughter; and the din of many voices mingled with the clatter of the dice upon the board, was a noise that might have deadened any sound; yet the whisper of Lord de Clifford was as distinctly heard by Becket as if they two had been alone in that hall.

"The Queen has landed in England, and the King goes hence to-morrow at dawn."

VOL. I.

Accustomed as he was to conceal all emotion, Becket actually started as these words fell upon his ear. This was a deathblow to all his hopes. At the moment that he most wanted to establish the power he had obtained over his royal master, he saw himself about to be separated from him. Another interest had arisen which might counteract his own; for who could tell with what eyes the fierce and haughty Eleanor might view the influence he had gained over her more pliant husband? In an instant a thousand thoughts of this nature flashed through the busy brain of Becket; in another instant a remedy for the threatened danger as rapidly suggested itself. Before the Lord de Clifford could speak again, the prior's mind was made up; and, with his usual bland and courteous manner, he listened to the stately baron, whose hurried words and air gave token of more than ordinary emotion.

"Before dawn," he continued, "the King will be in his saddle; and I have still much to say, much to ask him ere he goes. My vow, holy father, my vow weighs heavily on my mind. My wounds are healed; my

vassals are at peace; and long since I should have been in Palestine. The pilgrimage vowed in the hour of need must not be forgotten."

"It were indeed a deadly sin," said Becket, solemnly.

"May Heaven and the holy saints preserve me even from the thought!" replied De Clifford, with fervour. No good Christian should linger in his castle while the temple of the Lord is in the hands of the infidel. Reverend father, I am ready: my men-atarms only await my summons; a host of gallant knights and squires count the hours until I depart; my own heart burns to stand again on the soil trodden by the blessed feet of Christ: and still I tarry. Father, absolve me from all guilty thought; my soul is in my vow, but my daughter!"—

"Ha!" exclaimed Becket, hastily, as though the same thought had also struck him; but instantly collecting himself, he added,

"And what of the Lady Rosamond?" "She will be alone; she is youngalmost a child," said the agitated father;

"I would place her in safety before I go."

A long pause followed these words, during which the eyes of the anxious parent were riveted upon his companion, who had partially turned away his face. At length he spoke :

"The Nunnery of Clairvaux were worse than a prison now," said Becket, slowly. "The Lady Rosamond is far beyond her years, and would ill-brook the control of the rigid abbess. She has been for months here reigning as a queen, followed, flattered, and adored. What charms for her can now be found in a convent life? She would but pine away, and die like a bird within its cage."

"That must not be," said De Clifford hoarsely; and Becket, whose calm eye now rested on the face of the speaker, saw his lip tremble as his thoughts dwelt upon the future fate of his child. His love for Rosamond was the one soft spot in the rock of bigotry and pride out of which the nature of De Clifford seemed to have been hewn. "Reverend father," he continued, 66 you know my thoughts; my very soul is with