all.
I think, if they bring me out to be hanged to-morrow, as is much to
be doubted they may, I will try its weight upon the finisher of the
sentence."

"If such prove the case," said the master, "my religious orders are soon
taken--'Pax vobiscum'. I trust I shall remember the pass-word.--Noble
Athelstane, farewell; and farewell, my poor boy, whose heart might make
amends for a weaker head--I will save you, or return and die with you.
The royal blood of our Saxon kings shall not be spilt while mine beats
in my veins; nor shall one hair fall from the head of the kind knave
who risked himself for his master, if Cedric's peril can prevent
it.--Farewell."

"Farewell, noble Cedric," said Athelstane; "remember it is the true part
of a friar to accept refreshment, if you are offered any."

"Farewell, uncle," added Wamba; "and remember 'Pax vobiscum'."

Thus exhorted, Cedric sallied forth upon his expedition; and it was not
long ere he had occasion to try the force of that spell which his Jester
had recommended as omnipotent. In a low-arched and dusky passage, by
which he endeavoured to work his way to the hall of the castle, he was
interrupted by a female form.

"'Pax vobiscum!'" said the pseudo friar, and was endeavouring to
hurry past, when a soft voice replied, "'Et vobis--quaso, domine
reverendissime, pro misericordia vestra'."

"I am somewhat deaf," replied Cedric, in good Saxon, and at the same
time muttered to himself, "A curse on the fool and his 'Pax vobiscum!' I
have lost my javelin at the first cast."

It was, however, no unusual thing for a priest of those days to be deaf
of his Latin ear, and this the person who now addressed Cedric knew full
well.

"I pray you of dear love, reverend father," she replied in his own
language, "that you will deign to visit with your ghostly comfort a
wounded prisoner of this castle, and have such compassion upon him and
us as thy holy office teaches--Never shall good deed so highly advantage
thy convent."

"Daughter," answered Cedric, much embarrassed, "my time in this castle
will not permit me to exercise the duties of mine office--I must
presently forth--there is life and death upon my speed."

"Yet, father, let me entreat you by the vow you have taken on you,"
replied the suppliant, "not to leave the oppressed and endangered
without counsel or succour."

"May the fiend fly away with me, and leave me in Ifrin with the souls of
Odin and of Thor!" answered Cedric impa