resembling the habit of his lady, and mounted on a dark, fiery charger, which with difficulty he could rein in to the slow pace of the palfrey. On the left of the lady Isabella was her brother, young Robert de Vere, and though but a boy, one might have read much in the lines of that counte nance, of his future destiny. His smooth dimpled chin was small and round, and his mouth possessed that habitual smile, that softly beaming expression, which won for him in after years the regard of the superficial Richard; while there shone a fire in the full dark eyes, which betokened the ambitious spirit that was to animate the future lord of Dublin and sovereign of Ireland.

Sparkling with jewels, and attired in a white satin robe, the Lady de Boteler took her seat for the first time at the table of her lord, and well was she calculated to grace the board. Her person, tall and well formed, possessed that fulness of proportion which is conveyed by the term majestic; and her movements were exceedingly graceful. She had fine auburn hair, and the thick curls that fell beneath the gemmed fillet encircling her head, seemed alternately a bright gold or a dark brown according to the waving of the tress. Her fair and high white forehead, which the parted curls revealed, possessed sufficient beauty to have redeemed even irregular features from the charge of homeliness; but Isabella de Vere's face was altogether as generally faultless as falls to the lot of woman.

The guests were numerous, and the evening passed away in feasting and revelry. The blaze of the lights-the full strains of the minstrels - the glad faces and graceful motions of the dancers, the lustre of the ladies' jewels, and the glitter of the gold embroidery on the dresses of male and female, combined to give to the spacious hall that night more the appearance of a fairy scene, which might dissolve in a moment into air, than a palpable human festivity. The tenantry had also their feasting and their dancing; but these had to pay for their amusement: each tenant, according to the custom of the manor, on the marriage of their lord, being obliged to bring an offering in proportion to the land which he held.

On the morrow, accordingly, the vassals brought their presents. The lady Isabella, surrounded by visiters and attended by her handmaidens, was seated in the spacious apartment intended for the ceremony, as Edith, supported by Margaret, entered the room. The baroness raised her head and gazed upon the latter, with that complacent feeling which beauty seldom fails to inspire. The delicate hue of Margaret's cheek was, at this moment, deepened by embarrassment: and, as kneeling down, she raised her bright blue eyes, the lady thought she had never seen so lovely a creature.

"What is your pleasure with me, maiden ?" asked the baroness, in a condescending tone.

"Lady," replied Margaret modestly; "I am the wife of one of my lord's vassals; and my mother and myself humbly beg you will accept this present."

"And is this your present? What is your name?"

Margaret Holgrave, lady."

"Look, Lady Anne," said Isabella, displaying a pair of white silk gloves, beautifully wrought with gold. "Do you not think this a fair present for a vassal to bestow?"

"The gloves are very beautiful," replied the lady.

"Your gift betokens a good feeling, young dame," said Isabella, turning to Margaret. "But why did you choose so costly a present?"

"Indeed, noble lady," replied Margaret, "the gloves cost but littleEdith, here, my husband's mother, knitted them, and I have striven to ornament them."

"This is not the work of a novice, Lady Anne-You are accustomed to needlework!"

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"Yes, my lady- before I was married I obtained my support by making the vestments for some of the monks at Hailes Abbey."

"Indeed! very well- and you are this young person's mother-in-law ?" said the baroness, for the first time addressing Edith.

"Yes, Baroness de Boteler," replied the old woman.

"Very well," said the lady, and looking alternately at Edith and Margaret, she added, "I accept your gift--you may now retire."

They accordingly withdrew from the chamber, and, in the court-yard, were joined by Holgrave. "Did the baroness take the gloves?" he

asked.

"Yes," replied Margaret, in delight, "and she seemed pleased with the embroidery. O, Stephen, she is so beautiful! She looks like an angel! Does she not, mother?"

"She has beauty, Margaret," answered Edith, "but it is not the beauty of an angel-it has too much of pride."

"But all ladies are proud, mother! I warrant she is not prouder than another."

"Maybe not, Margaret; but yet that lady who sat at her side looked not so high as the baroness. There was more sweetness in her smile, and gentleness in her voice."

"O yes, she spoke very sweetly, but she is not so handsome as the baron's lady."

Margaret," replied Edith; "when you are as old as I, you will not look upon beauty as you do now; -a gentle heart and a pallid cheek will seem lovelier then, than brightness and bloom, if there be pride on the brow. But, Stephen, what said the steward when you gave him the gold?"

"Oh, he said mine was the best gift that had been brought yet. But come, mother, it is time we were at home."

The Lady de Boteler, Lady Anne Hammond, and the other ladies, were admiring the embroidered gloves, when De Boteler and Sir Robert Knowles entered the apartment.

"See, Roland," said the baroness, holding the gloves towards her husband; "6 see, what a pretty gift I have received since you left us!" "They are indeed pretty," answered De Boteler; "and the fair hands that wrought them deserve praise. What think you, Sir Robert?"

“O, you must not ask Sir Robert for any fine compliment,” interrupted the baroness. "They are not a lady's gift- they were presented to me by the wife of one of your vassals."

--

"The wife of a vassal would not have taste enough to buy such as these; and there is but one about Winchcombe who could work so well. And, by my faith, I now remember that it was part of the tenure by which I some time since granted land, to present a pair of gloves. Was it not a fair-looking damsel, one Stephen Holgrave's wife, that brought them?" "I think she said her name was Holgrave," replied the lady in a cold tone. "But indeed, my lord baron, you seem to be wondrously well acquainted with the faces and the handywork of your vassal's wives!"

"Nay, Isabella," said the pale interesting lady of Sir Robert Knowles; "it is not strange that my Lord de Boteler should know the faces of those who were born on his land; and this young woman's skill could not fail to have procured her notice. But the handiness of her fingers has not made her vain. You know I am fond of reading faces, and I would answer that she is as modest and good as she is fair."

"O, I'dare say she is,” replied the baroness, and immediately changed the conversation.

The next morning Holgrave received a peremptory order to attend at the castle in the afternoon; and the henchman of the baron, who was the bearer of the message, refused to give any information why he had been so summoned. Edith, with her natural penetration, saw, by the hesitation of the servitor, and by the tone in which the mandate was conveyed, that something of more than ordinary moment was about to be transacted, and, with an undefined feeling of alarm, she resolved to accompany her

son.

As they entered the court-yard, the henchman, who had delivered the message, accosted Holgrave, telling him he must go into the hall to answer to some matter before the baron.

"What is the matter which my son is to answer, friend?" asked Edith; but the man evaded the question, and Holgrave, leaving his mother in the outer court-yard, passed through one of the arched doors into the other, and, with a firm step, though with some apprehension of evil, entered the hall.

1

He had scarcely time to give a nod of recognition to several neighbours who stood near the entrance, when the steward approached, and, desiring him to walk farther up the hall, placed him at the first step that elevated the upper end, thus cntting off every possibility of communicating with his neighbours. Holgrave felt anything but composure in his present conspicuous situation: though strong in the rectitude of his conscience, yet he felt apprehensions and misgivings; and the strange silence that was observed respecting the intended charge alarmed him the more. As the hall was always open on such occasions, he speedily saw a crowd of vassals pouring in - some anxious to know the event, either through a feeling of friendship or hatred, and others merely from curiosity. The eyes of each man, as he entered, fell, as if instinctively, upon the yeoman; and he could perceive, as they formed into groups, that he was the subject of their conversation. Presently his mother, supported by an old friend named Hartwell, entered, and he thought she regarded him with an earnest and sorrowful look. But his attention was immediately diverted; the upper door opened, and De Boteler and the baroness, with Sir Robert and Lady Knowles, entered the hall.

There was near the steps a small table with writing materials, at which the steward ought to have been seated, to write down the proceedings; but old Luke was not so quick of hearing, or perhaps of comprehension, as Calverley, and the esquire, therefore, took his place.

"Stephen Holgrave," said the baron, in a stern voice, "are these your shafts ?" as he beckoned to old Luke to hand the yeoman two arrows which he had hitherto concealed.

Holgrave looked at them an instant

Yes, my lord," said he, without hesitation, but yet with a consciousness that the answer was to injure him.

"What, they are yours then?" said De Boteler, in a still harsher tone. Holgrave bowed his head.

"Come forward, keeper," continued the baron, "and state how these arrows came into your hands!"

The keeper made the deposition which the reader will have anticipated; and his men were then examined, who corroborated the statement of their

master.

"Now, Stephen Holgrave," asked the baron, “what have you to say to this ?"

"My lord," replied Holgrave, still undaunted, "the shafts are mine; but I am as innocent of the deed as the babe at its mother's breast. Whoever shot the buck must have stolen my arrows, in order to bring me into this scrape."

"By my faith, Holgrave, you seem to think lightly of this matter. Do you call it a scrape to commit a felony in your lord's chase? Have you any thing further to urge in your defence?"

There was a momentary pause after the baron had ceased. Holgrave hesitated to reply; - he had denied the charge, and he knew not what else to say. But when every eye except Calverley's, from Roland de Boteler's to that of the lowest freeman present, was fixed on the accused, expecting his answer, a slight movement was observed among the people, and Edith Holgrave, supported by Hartwell, pressed forward, and stood on the step by the side of her son. The gaze was now in an instant turned from the son to the mother, and Edith, after pausing a moment to collect her faculties, said, in a loud voice

"My Lord de Boteler, and you, noble sir, and fair dames - it may seem strange that an old woman like me should speak for a man of my son's years; but, in truth, he is better able to defend himself with his arm than his tongue."

"Woman!" interrupted De Boteler impatiently, "your son has answered for himself-retire."

Nay, my lord," replied Edith, with a bright eye and a flushing cheek, and drawing herself up to a height that she had not exhibited for many years-"nay, my lord, my son is able to defend himself against the weapon of an open foe, but not against the doings of a covert enemy!"

"What mean you, woman?” quickly returned De Boteler; "do you accuse the keeper of my chase as having plotted against your son, or whom do you suspect?"

"Baron de Boteler," replied Edith, with a look and a tone that seemed to gain fresh energy from the kind of menace with which the interrogatories were put, "I do not accuse your keeper. He had an honest father, and he has himself ever been a man of good repute. But I do say," she added in a wild and high tone, and elevating her right hand and riveting her flashing eyes on Calverley "I do say, the charge as regards my son is a base and traitorous plot."

"Hold your tongue, woman," interrupted De Boteler, who had listened to her with evident reluctance. "Why do you look so fiercely on my squire. Have you aught against him?"

"My lord baron," replied Edith, "I have nothing to say that can bring home guilt to the guilty, or do right to the wronged: but I will say, my lord, that what a man is to-day he will be to-morrow, unless he has some end to answer by changing. The esquire will scarcely give the word of courtesy to the most reputable vassal, and yet did he talk secretly and familiarly with John Byles and here is one who will swear that he heard him repeat the name of my son, and then something about an arrow."

Old Hartwell now stepped forward, and averred that he had seen Calverley and Byles talking together in the chase, and that he had overheard the name of Stephen Holgrave repeated in conjunction with an allusion to arrows. The circumstance, however, had been quite forgotten until the charge this morning brought it to his memory. This eaves-dropping testimony amounted to nothing, even before Calverley denied every particular of the fact, which he did with the utmost composure

"What motive have I to plot against Holgrave ?" asked Calverley. "You have a motive," said Edith, "both in envy and in love. You well know that if this charge could be proved, Stephen Holgrave must die." Calverley was about to speak, when he was interrupted by De Boteler, who expressed himself dissatisfied with the explanations on both sides:

"The proof is doubtful," said he, suddenly. "Give the fellow back his arrows, and dissolve the court. - Away!"

When the arrows were handed to their owner, he instantly snapped them asunder.

"What means this, Stephen Holgrave ?" asked the baron impatiently. "My lord, these arrows were used in a foul purpose; and Stephen Holgrave will never disgrace his hand by using them again. The time may come, my lord, when the malicious coward who stole them shall rue this day!"

Bravely said and done, my stout yeoman!" said Sir Robert Knowles, who broke silence for the first time during the investigation: "and my Lord de Boteler," he continued, addressing the baron, "the arm that acquitted itself so well in your defence, you may be assured, could never have disgraced itself by midnight plunder."

The blessing of the most high God be with you for that, noble sir,” said Edith, as she knelt down and fervently thanked Sir Robert; and then, leaning on the arm of her son, she left the hall.

"By my faith, Sir Robert," said De Boteler, “Stephen Holgrave wants no counsel while that old dame so ably takes his part. But a truce with this mummery. Come along-our time is more precious than wasting it in hearing such varlets."

The baron and his guests then withdrew.

At the distance of nearly a mile from Sudley Castle, and at about a quarter of a mile from the high road that led to Oxford, was a singular kind of quarry or cliff. Its elevation was considerable, and the portion of the hill visible from the road was covered with the heathy verdure which usually springs from such scanty soil; but on passing round to the other side, all the barren unsightly appearance of a half-worked quarry presented itself. Huge masses of stone stood firmly as nature had formed them, while others, of a magnitude sufficient to awaken in the hardiest a sense of danger, hung apparently by so slight a tenure, that a passing gust of wind seemed only required to release their fragile hold. But the hill had stood thus unaltered during the remembrance of the oldest inhabitant of Winchcombe. Strange stories were whispered respecting this cliff, but as the honour of the house of Sudley, and that of another family equally noble, were concerned in the tale, little more than obscure hints were suffered to escape.

One evening, as the rumour went, a female figure, enveloped in a mantle of some dark colour, and holding an infant in her arms, was observed, seated on one of the stones of the quarry, with her feet resting on a fragment beneath. Her face was turned towards Sudley, and as the atmosphere was clear, and her position elevated, the castle could well be distinguished. Wild shrieks were heard by some during that night, and the morning sun revealed blood on fragments of the stone, and on the earth beneath; and at a little distance it was perceived that the grass had been recently dug up, and trodden down with a heavy foot. The peasants crossed themselves at the sight, but no inquiries were made, and from that day the cliff was sacred to superstition, for no inhabitant of the district would have touched a stone of the quarry, or have dared to pass it after nightfall for the world.

It was beneath the shadow of those impending stones, and over the spot where it was whispered that the murdered had been buried, that Calverley, on the night of the day that Holgrave left scatheless the hall of Sudley Castle, was pacing to and fro, awaiting the appearance of Byles. "He lingers," said Calverley, as the rising moon told him it was getting late, "I suppose the fool fears to come near this place." But after some minutes of feverish impatience, Byles at length came.