ancestor did obtain there power, and 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. Regi nald 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 disarm 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 explanation 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 à 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 goodhumoured 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 occassion 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 matchmaker. Reginald did not come at the appointed time; the old man began to grow impatient; he asked for his son. "Lothaire," replied one of the attendants, "bore forth thy message in the morning, being desirous of looking on the Norman guest. He hath not yet returned." "It is the better," said Leofwyn to himself. "His hastiness might defeat what my prudence hath devised. Nevertheless, I cannot but marvel at his stay. Is the bride apparelled?" "She is the maidens have been busied about her headgear since noonday. Marry, they have no light task; for the hair they decorate hath been but little used to the operation." "Peace!" said Leofwyn.

Hours passed away in rapid succession: evening came gradually on; and still there were no traces or tidings of Reginald d'Arennes. The Saxon's choler began to rise in earnest. "Surely," he muttered inwardly, "surely, that hotbrained fellow Lothaire hath not overturned the structure my counsel hath been so long a-building; mischief light upon him if he hath dared to make or to meddle. The forward boy is ever at bullying and drawing of swords. Boys' play, boys' play; but it were a brave thing to put this slight upon the Norman. Marry hang him if he hath despoiled my daughter of her husband."

Suddenly his soliloquy was interrupted by the blast of a horn announcing the arrival of strangers. Leofwyn leaped from his seat in an ecstacy; but immediately resumed it, with a studied look of gravity, that restrained the inclination to merriment, which was predominant among his dependents. Every one, therefore, was silent, as the folding-doors were slowly unclosed, and the Major-domo introduced to the presence of his Lord-Sir Reginald d'Arennes.

He was greeted by his future father-in-law with cold and distant courtesy, which he returned in a manner of still greater reserve. "Sir Knight," said Leofwyn," it is my will that thy nuptials be solemnized ere thou sittest down to the banquet. My son Lothaire is choleric (his guest gave an involuntary

motion of assent); and if he should return before the wedding, I know not whether thy head might not lie in the castle-moat sooner than on the bridal pillow." The bridegroom shuddered.

"Is the Lady Elfrida attired?" continued Leofwyn, in a tone of mock gravity which was exceedingly ludicrous. The attendants caught the infection, and many unrepressed jests circulated among them, as they departed to bear their Lord's summons to his daughter.

Presently Elfrida made her appearance. The bridegroom started as she entered the hall: perhaps the exterior qualifications of the Saxon beauty might not altogether correspond with the exaggerated reports which his ears had greedily drunk. Her figure might be called elegant, but was certainly too short to deserve the appellation of dignified; her face might be deemed pretty, but the pertness which was its prevalent characteristic, disqualified it for the epithet of beautiful. Instead of the soft yellow hair which her adorer had expected, he beheld a profusion of dark brown ringlets; and in lieu of the languishing blue eye, which he deemed would have dissolved him into rapture, he met the glance of a sparkling black one, in which there lurked a very strong inclination to laugh in his face. To his disappointment, however, if he felt any, Reginald gave no vent; he seemed to have a great reluctance to unclose, in the presence of Saxons, either his vizor or his lips. Both parties betrayed a wish to have the ceremony performed as speedily as possible; and the nuptials of Sir Reginald d'Arennes with Elfrida, the daughter of Leofwyn of Kennet-hold, were accordingly celebrated in the chapel which was attached to the residence of the Saxon. The Lady Elfrida was splendidly attired; but, in other respects, the nuptial rites were graced with little pomp, save the attendance of a large body of Leofwyn's retainers, who, bearing in their hands each a flaming torch, cast an air of rude magnificence over the scene.

A sumptuous banquet awaited them upon their return to the hall. The merriment of the vassals was loud and unremitting. The bridegroom, however, did not seem to enjoy the situation in which he found himself placed. He fidgetted upon his seat, and turned his eyes alternately to the ceiling and to the wall, as if he suspected that more than half the joviality of the party was at his expense. His embarrassment was increased by the malicious endeavours of his bride, who rallied him upon his gravity and look of despondency, in a style to which he had evidently no spirits to reply.

It must be confessed that the young man's suspicions were not altogether without foundation. The occupants of the lower part of the board, who, of course, were the most obstreperous in their mirth, were, from time to time, indulging themselves in very acute

criticisms upon the figure and features of their master's son-inlaw. These did not altogether answer their expectations. Much as they contemned the Normans, they had pictured to themselves, in the person of Reginald d'Arennes, a countenance noble even to sternness, and a bearing at once courteous and martial. They knew he was a Norman, but they also knew he was a handsome and a friendly Norman; in consequence of which they had made up their minds to hate him, and, at the same time, to find nothing in him worthy of hate. They were much surprised, therefore, when they found the young Knight so perfectly different from the image report had drawn. His face seemed perfectly void of all expression of majesty or valour. At present its predominant expression was embarrassment, mingled with a strong tincture of fear; but there was a slight curve upon the lips, and a sly twinkle under the eye, which betrayed a strong disposition to cunning and risibility. His figure appeared slender and diminutive, and a large and gorgeous steel harness hung dangling about it; as if the bark of the forest oak had been stripped off to give an appearance of strength to the willow. This was all very strange: the attendants looked, and laughed, and wondered; and Leofwyn showed no disposition to check their humour. Indeed he seemed to participate cordially in their malicious propensities.

"Sir Knight," said he, " methinks there is in thy demeanour a greater degree of bashfulness than thy noble presence and thy lofty lineage do warrant."

"It is a feeling," replied the guest," which I have inherited from my mother Bridget-I mean, from my mother the Lady Marie," he added, turning very pale.

"Ha! ha!" exclaimed his entertainer, "Now, by my verity, I dreamed not thy father had been so gay in his young days. What! play the Lady Marie false! Come, come, it was ill done, ill done; she was a lady of most excellent carriage; it was ill done. But be not cast down. The sin was not thine. Pledge me, noble Reginald. Thou standest in need of refreshment; for, in truth, thy look is weariness itself, and thou art as silent as the oaken board on which thou leanest. Come, come, the pigment is worth the tasting."

Reginald blushed, and seemed doubting whether it were not well to make a precipitate retreat. The Lady Elfrida turned away her head, and let down her veil, with a gesture of affected horror at the indelicate sallies of her father. Nothing daunted, the old man continued his pertinacious system of annoyance, while the domestics applauded, by ill-repressed acclamations, the surprising jocularity of their Lord.

"Thou art sparing of thy food, Sir Knight: but doubtless thou art used to other diet than this; the board of a Saxon Thane hath but little to tempt the palate of the son of a Norman Noble.”