"Who sains the house o' dight?
They that sain it ilka night.
The new born bratte,

The dark spot catte,

The wizard's spare,

Keep this house from the weir!

From rennyng thief,

From brennyng thief,

From an ill rae

That by the gate can gae,

And from an ill wighte,

That by the house can lighte

Nine rods about, in dark or light,

Keep it all the night.

This is the spell

That shields us well;

This is the charm

That smothers harm!"

While Margery Jourdain snuffled slowly out this unchristian exorcism, Elinor's mind flew back, on the railroad grooves of memory, to those early days when her ladye mother made her repeat at bed-time the rhyme of the white paternoster, or the litany verses—

"Mary, mother, wel thou be;

Mary, mother, think on me.
Swete ladye, mayden milde,
From al foemen thou me schilde.
Both by day, eke by nighte,

Helpe me, mayden, by thy mighte.

Swete ladye, for me pray to Heven's King,
To give me housel, shrifte, and gode bredinge."

and as those unbidden recollections of childhood and innocence rose up, the hapless girl pressed her hands across her eyes, and felt the warm tears gushing out against her burning palms.

"Rest thee now satisfied, sweet Elinor," said Bolingbroke, as the old woman ended her chant. "Nothing of evil may now bring harm to the walls that shelter us, till the cock crows and the spirits of night are sunk in the bowels of the earth, or blended invisible with the morning vapours. We may not raise nor lay them, but we can keep them still."

"Lie quiet, my lady duchess. The comforting draught must do you marvellous service, and fit you well to meet his highness when he quaffs the philter. Lie quiet, fair paragon-my thumbs prick, he cannot be far off," said Dame Jourdain.

"Oh, Bolingbroke, what rushing sound is that?" cried Elinor, heedless of the beldam's words. "I hear them in the air—are the forbidden beings on the wing? Hast thou indeed called them to our aid, or do they come unaskedperhaps in wrath and for our punishment?-Hist! How awful the sound careers past the casement!"

"'Tis nought but the gyral flight of the water-fowl, frightened from the castle's moat, too sensitive Elinor.Fear not, sweet heart, be calm and collected, for mayhap indeed, 'its Glocester's coming that has roused the webfooted tribe to sound this needless alarm."

"Glocester coming! Heavens! how that sound thrills through me fearfully-and for the first time! It used to awake but joy and triumph."

"And why not now?" said Bolingbroke, in a tone meant to be re-assuring, but which was only harsh and grating to Elinor's consciousness of wrong; "now, when thy power is on the point of full accomplishment? when thy royal, ay, Elinor, thine all but regal lover is about to be secured to thee for ever?"

"That thought is the cause of my heart's heaviness, Bolingbroke. Will he indeed be mine, or is he not even now false, perjured to his oaths, another's? Oh, my best counsellor, how my heart misgives me!"

Thinkest thou

"All will be well-all is well, Elinor. these precious leaves, imbued with the spirit of wisdom, have cost me years of study for nought but thy undoing? Have I toiled at all the mystic arts, to be a plaything in Fate's fingers? Am I, who worked on even the proud pontiff's power as thou could'st play on thy lute, to be baffled by ill-fate, or made the sport of chance? No, daughter fair, no, precious one, thou'st nought to fear. Glocester is com

ing, and coming to be thine-Hey, Margery Jourdain ! asleep on thy post?-Dost nod over the skittle that holds the fate of an empire's lord? Art thou dreaming, mistress?"

"The foul fiend take thee before thy time for the disho

nouring thought, black Bolingbroke!" exclaimed the choleric old crone, roused from her nodding attitude of incipient slumber by the sorcerer's harsh words, and violently resuming her task of care-taking to the charmed philter.

Ha! gossip, dost thou curse?" cried he, in still harsher phrase. "Dost let thy foul tongue run truant and 'gainst me ?-Hast thou no fear of cramps?-do the pinching cholic and the night spasms hold no terrors for thee? What! muttering still, beldam?-thou provokest thy fate-then hear it!"

With these words Bolingbroke rose from his chair, and seizing a white wand, which lay by his side, he stalked forward, waving this rod of office over his head. Old Margery, terrified at the threatened burst of imprecation, and wholly subjected to a pretended power, which superstition and habit made her cling to in fear, even while conscious of its unreal nature, quickly rose from her stool, and threw herself on her knees before the tall figure which so awfully approached.

"Pardon, pardon, gentle master!" cried she. "May St. Colm and St. Bride-"

"Name me no saints, insolent crone !" cried the sorcerer. "Wouldst have me crush thee?"

"Alas, master! I misthought me of your calling, and my mind turned back to early days, when I have seen you serve the altar and sing the saints' litany."

"Peace, thou perverse one, peace! or I'll rack thee.— Dost talk to me of things like these?" vociferated Bolingbroke, a dark blush giving a livid tinge to his brow.

"Pardon, pardon!" said the old hag, covering her face with her hands, and bending her head to the earth.

"Oh, Bolingbroke, what would you do? How terrible your eyes gleam on poor Margery! Be appeased—remember what work you have in hand!" exclaimed Elinor, rising from the couch and throwing a dissuasive look on the angry wizard, while one of her snowy hands rested on his shoulder.

"How durst the old hag call me black Bolingbroke? or twit me with my by-gone days of altar-service? But thy bright eyes and melting tones, my Elinor, have mastered

me, and dammed up the torrent of curses which I would have poured out."

Mercy, mercy!" muttered the prostrate hag.

"Rise up, Margery, and learn discretion," said Bolingbroke, in a softer.ed growl, turned by Elinor's seductive words and looks, even from the angry heat of wounded vanity and a stung conscience.

"List, list!" cried Elinor, clinging to the embodied type of darkness in renewed terror, on distinguishing the plaintive, yet unmelodious tone of some instrument sounded from without the castle. "Bolingbroke, that is no earthly sound 'tis not the scream of birds, nor is it mortal melody-Jesu Maria shield us!"

"Thou choosest most marvellously ill thy calls for aid to-night, even wert thou not secure from harm," said Bolingbroke, with a mortified and malicious air; "these adjurations would better suit some vesper-chaunting nun or cowled friar, at lauds or complin, than one who

"Oh, say not what I am, good Bolingbroke! Reproach me not for what thou thyself hast made me— e-be merciful as thou art potent-these awful tones, this desolate place, a sense of my helplessness, and fear that I cannot master or define, overpower me quite.-Hark! again--louder and

nearer !"

"Tis the gong-the wild horn of the north-'tis Van Monfoort sounding his own and Glocester's summons to the castle watch-tower. I hear it distinctly now, and know it well.-How now, good Elinor, thou tremblest!"

"It is not from fear, good Bolingbroke, though I do dread the Duke's reproach for this perhaps too daring step-but hope, too, shakes my nerves-shall I be

"Duchess? Ay, my girl, and fate might make thee " Queen!" chimed in the beldame parasite, who had recovered from her alarm, and taken her place again beside the brazier.

"Hush! they approach! list to the drawbridge creaking on its rusty chains. To thy couch, Elinor. Be cautious, Margery; doff thy girdle and collar, old girl; look matronly, and speak not in the terms of art. And now, ye all by awhile, my treasures! safe covered from unbelieving eyes-my belt, too, I depose and hide with ye. VOL. I.

lie

14

Let Glocester meet me now, his humble messenger, and see who is the stronger of the twain!"

While Bolingbroke muttered this half colloquy half monologue, he carefully spread his mantle over the manuscript and instruments that lay on the table. He then walked across the chamber, opened the door which he had secured by its massive bolt, and walked to encounter the duke and prepare him for his ulterior purpose. Elinor threw herself back on the couch, in a state of unwonted perturbation; and her eyes seemed to fix involuntarily on the mysterious skillet, the handle of which was again grasped by the witch, while the gentle bubble of its simmering contents, was once more the only sound that broke the silence of the spacious and solemn looking apartment.

CHAPTER XVI.

GLOCESTER and Van Monfoort having put Fitz-walter ashore, and made some reconnoitring visits to several points of the mainland coast of Holland, turned the prow of their open boat towards Urk; and the six sturdy rowers who by turns pulled them through the waves, or managed the broad and clumsy sail of red canvass, obeying well the movements of the rudder, which was held by Ludwick himself, the island was safely made, but not till the moon had sunk low in the water, and midnight had spread its gloomy mantle on the world. It was indeed the rude horn of Giles Postel that had announced the coming of his lord, by the blast which was appropriate to his feudal rights; and the due answer from the seneschal and warders completed the preliminary formalities which preceded the landing of the chief, and his entrance into the court of his strong-hold.

"Welcome again, Lord Duke, into the lion's den!" said