sulted
where I was once obeyed, and compelled to bound the revenge which had
once such ample scope, to the efforts of petty malice of a discontented
menial, or the vain or unheeded curses of an impotent hag--condemned
to hear from my lonely turret the sounds of revelry in which I once
partook, or the shrieks and groans of new victims of oppression."

"Ulrica," said Cedric, "with a heart which still, I fear, regrets the
lost reward of thy crimes, as much as the deeds by which thou didst
acquire that meed, how didst thou dare to address thee to one who
wears this robe? Consider, unhappy woman, what could the sainted
Edward himself do for thee, were he here in bodily presence? The royal
Confessor was endowed by heaven with power to cleanse the ulcers of the
body, but only God himself can cure the leprosy of the soul."

"Yet, turn not from me, stern prophet of wrath," she exclaimed, "but
tell me, if thou canst, in what shall terminate these new and awful
feelings that burst on my solitude--Why do deeds, long since done, rise
before me in new and irresistible horrors? What fate is prepared beyond
the grave for her, to whom God has assigned on earth a lot of such
unspeakable wretchedness? Better had I turn to Woden, Hertha, and
Zernebock--to Mista, and to Skogula, the gods of our yet unbaptized
ancestors, than endure the dreadful anticipations which have of late
haunted my waking and my sleeping hours!"

"I am no priest," said Cedric, turning with disgust from this miserable
picture of guilt, wretchedness, and despair; "I am no priest, though I
wear a priest's garment."

"Priest or layman," answered Ulrica, "thou art the first I have seen for
twenty years, by whom God was feared or man regarded; and dost thou bid
me despair?"

"I bid thee repent," said Cedric. "Seek to prayer and penance, and
mayest thou find acceptance! But I cannot, I will not, longer abide with
thee."

"Stay yet a moment!" said Ulrica; "leave me not now, son of my father's
friend, lest the demon who has governed my life should tempt me
to avenge myself of thy hard-hearted scorn--Thinkest thou, if
Front-de-Boeuf found Cedric the Saxon in his castle, in such a disguise,
that thy life would be a long one?--Already his eye has been upon thee
like a falcon on his prey."

"And be it so," said Cedric; "and let him tear me with beak and talons,
ere my tongue say one word which my heart doth not warrant. I will die
a Saxon--true in word, open in deed--I bi