hastily rode over the drawbridge, entered the court, and began to call loudly on the domestics by their names. For some time he was only answered by the echoes and the howling of the hounds, whose kennel lay at no great distance from the mansion, and was surrounded by the same moat. At length Will Badger, the old and favourite attendant of the knight, who acted alike as squire of his body, and superintendant of his sports, made his appearance. The stout, weather-beaten forester showed great signs of joy when he recognized Tressilian.

"Lord love you," he said, "Master Edmund, be it thou in flesh and fell?-Then thou mayst do some good on Sir Hugh, for it passes the wit of man, that is of mine own, and the Curate's, and Master Mumblazen's, to do ought wi' un.

"Is Sir Hugh then worse since I went away, Will ?” demanded Tressilian.

"For worse in body-no-he is much better," replied the domestic ; "but he is clean mazed as it were-eats and drinks as he was wont-but sleeps not, or rather wakes not, for he is ever in a sort of twilight, that is neither sleeping nor waking. Dame Swineford thought it was like the dead palsy.—But no, no, dame, said I, it is the heart, it is the heart."

"Can ye not stir his mind to any pastimes?" said Tressilian.

"He is clean and quite off his sports," said Will Badger; "hath neither touched backgammon or shovel-board

-nor looked on the big book of harrotry wi' Master Mumblazen. I let the clock run down, thinking the missing the bell might somewhat move him, for you know, Master Edmund, he was particular in counting time; but he never said a word on't, so I may e'en set the old chime a towling again. I made bold to tread on Bungay's tail too, and you know what a round rating that would ha' cost me once a-day-but he minded the poor tyke's whine no more than a madge howlet whooping down the chimney -so the case is beyond me."

"Thou shalt tell me the rest within doors, Will.Meanwhile let this person be ta'en to the buttery, and used with respect-He is a man of art."

"White art or black art, I would," said Will Badger, "that he had any art which could help us.-Here, Tom Butler, look to the man of art and see that he steals none of thy spoons, lad," he added, in a whisper to the butler, who showed himself at a low window, "I have known as honest a faced fellow have art enough to do that."

He then ushered Tresşilian into a low parlour, and went, at his desire, to see in what state his master was, lest the sudden return of his darling pupil, and proposed son-in-law, should affect him too strongly. He returned immediately, and said that Sir Hugh was dozing in his elbow-chair, but that Master Mumblazen would acquaint Master Tressilian the instant he awaked.

"But it is chance if he knows you," said the huntsman, "for he has forgotten the name of every hound in the pack. I thought about a week since, he had gotten a favourable turn :- Saddle me old Sorrel,' said he, suddenly, after he had taken his usual night-draught out of the great silver grace-cup, and take the hounds to Mount Hazelhurst to-morrow.' Glad men were we all, and out we had him in the morning, and he rode to cover as usual, with never a word spoken but that the wind was south, and the scent would lie. But ere we had uncoupled the hounds, he began to stare round him, like a man that wakes suddenly out of a dream-turns bridle and walks back to Hall again, and leaves us to hunt at leisure by ourselves, if we listed."

"You tell a heavy tale, Will," replied Tressilian; "but God must help us-there is no aid in man.'

"Then you bring us no news of young Mistress Amy? -But what need I ask-your brow tells the story. Ever I hoped, that if any man could or would track her, it must be you. All's over and lost now. But if ever I have that Varney within reach of a flight-shot, I will be14 VOL. I.

stow a forked shaft on him; and that I swear by salt and bread."

As he spoke, the door opened, and Master Mumblazen appeared; a withered, thin, elderly gentleman, with a cheek like a winter apple, and his grey hair partly concealed by a small high hat, shaped like a cone, or rather like such a strawberry-basket as London fruiterers exhibit at their windows. He was too sententious a person to waste words on mere salutation; so, having welcomed Tressilian with a nod and a shake of the hand, he beckoned him to follow. to Sir Hugh's great chamber, which the good knight usually inhabited. Will Badger followed, unasked, anxious to see whether his master would be relieved from his state of apathy by the arrival of Tressilian.

In a long low parlour, amply furnished with implements of the chase, and with sylvan trophies, by a massive stone chimney, over which hung a sword and suit of armour, somewhat obscured by neglect, sat Sir Hugh Robsart of Lidcote, a man of large size, which had been only kept within moderate compass by the constant use of violent exercise. It seemed to Tressilian that the lethargy, under which his old friend appeared to labour, had, even during his few weeks absence, added bulk to his person; at least it had obviously diminished the vivacity of his eye, which, as they entered, first followed Master Mumblazen slowly to a large oaken desk, on which a ponderous volume lay open, and then rested, as if in uncertainty, on the stranger who had entered along with him. The curate, a grey-headed clergyman, who had been a confessor in the days of Queen Mary, sat with a book in his hand in another recess in the apartment. He, too, signed a mournful greeting to Tressilian, and laid his book aside, to watch the effect his appearance should produce on the afflicted old man.

As Tressilian, his own eyes filling fast with tears, approached more and more nearly to the father of his betrothed bride, Sir Hugh's intelligence seemed to revive. He sighed heavily, as one who awakens from a state of stupor, a slight convulsion passed over his features, he

opened his arms without speaking a word, and as Tressilian threw himself into them, he folded him to his bosom.

"There is something left to live for yet," were the first words he uttered; and while he spoke, he gave vent to his feelings in a paroxysm of weeping, the tears chasing each other down his sun-burnt cheeks and long white beard.

"I ne'er thought to have thanked God to see my master weep," said Will Badger; " but now I do, though I am like to weep for company."

86

"I will ask thee no questions," said the old knight; no questions-none, Edmund-thou hast not found her, or so found her, that she were better lost."

Tressilian was unable to reply, otherwise than by putting his hands before his face.

"It is enough-it is enough. But do not thou weep for her, Edmund. I have cause to weep, for she was my daughter,—thou hast cause to rejoice, that she did not become thy wife.-Great God! thou knowest best what is good for us It was my nightly prayer that I should see Amy and Edmund wedded,—had it been granted, it had now been gall added to bitterness."

"Be comforted, my friend," said the curate, addressing Sir Hugh," it cannot be that the daughter of all our hopes and affections is the vile creature you would bespeak her."

"O, no," replied Sir Hugh, impatiently, "I were wrong to name broadly the base thing she is become there is some new court name for it, I warrant me. It is honour enough for the daughter of an old De'nshire clown to be the leman of a gay courtier, of Varney too,of Varney, whose grandsire was relieved by my father, when his fortune was broken, at the battle of the battle of-where Richard was slain-out on my memory!—and I warrant none of you will help me "

The battle of Bosworth," said Master Mumblazen, "stricken between Richard Crookback and Henry Tudor, grandsire of the queen that now is, Primo Henrici

Septimi; and in the year one thousand four hundred and eighty-five, post Christum natum.”

Ay, even so," said the old knight, 66 every child knows it-But my poor head forgets all it should remember, and remembers only what it would most willingly forget. My brain has been at fault, Tressilian, almost ever since thou hast been away, and even yet it hunts counter."

"Your worship," said the good clergyman, " had better retire to your apartment, and try to sleep for a little space, the physician left a composing draught, and our Great Physician has commanded us to use earthly means, that we may be strengthened to sustain the trials he sends us."

"True, true, old friend," said Sir Hugh," and we will bear our trials manfully-We have lost but a woman.— See, Tressilian," he drew from his bosom a long ringlet of glossy hair-" see this lock !—I tell thee, Edmund, the very night she disappeared, when she bid me good even, as she was wont, she hung about my neck, and fondled me more than usual; and I, like an old fool, held her by this lock, until she took her scissars, severed it, and left it in my hand,—as all I was ever to see more of her !"

Tressilian was unable to reply, well judging what a complication of feelings must have crossed the bosom of the unhappy fugitive at that cruel moment. The clergyman was about to speak, but Sir Hugh interrupted him.

"I know what you would say, Master Curate,—after all, it is but a lock of woman's tresses, and by woman, shame, and sin, and death, came into an innocent worldAnd learned Master Mumblazen, too, can say scholarly things of their inferiority.'

"C'est l'homme," said Master Mumblazen, " qui se bast et qui conseille."

"True," said Sir Hugh, " and we will bear us, therefore, like men who have both mettle and wisdom in us.Tressilian, thou art as welcome as if thou hadst brought better news. But we have spoken too long dry-lipped. -Amy, fill a cup of wine to Edmund, and another to