sympathy,--"knowest thou thy master still?"

"Ay," said Wamba, "Fangs and I still know thee, Gurth, though we must
needs abide by the collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us
and thyself."

"I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee, true comrade," said
Gurth; "and were freedom fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let
thee want it."

"Nay," said Wamba, "never think I envy thee, brother Gurth; the serf
sits by the hall-fire when the freeman must forth to the field of
battle--And what saith Oldhelm of Malmsbury--Better a fool at a feast
than a wise man at a fray."

The tramp of horses was now heard, and the Lady Rowena appeared,
surrounded by several riders, and a much stronger party of footmen, who
joyfully shook their pikes and clashed their brown-bills for joy of her
freedom. She herself, richly attired, and mounted on a dark chestnut
palfrey, had recovered all the dignity of her manner, and only an
unwonted degree of paleness showed the sufferings she had undergone. Her
lovely brow, though sorrowful, bore on it a cast of reviving hope
for the future, as well as of grateful thankfulness for the past
deliverance--She knew that Ivanhoe was safe, and she knew that
Athelstane was dead. The former assurance filled her with the most
sincere delight; and if she did not absolutely rejoice at the latter,
she might be pardoned for feeling the full advantage of being freed
from further persecution on the only subject in which she had ever been
contradicted by her guardian Cedric.

As Rowena bent her steed towards Locksley's seat, that bold yeoman, with
all his followers, rose to receive her, as if by a general instinct of
courtesy. The blood rose to her cheeks, as, courteously waving her hand,
and bending so low that her beautiful and loose tresses were for an
instant mixed with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she expressed in
few but apt words her obligations and her gratitude to Locksley and her
other deliverers.--"God bless you, brave men," she concluded, "God and
Our Lady bless you and requite you for gallantly perilling yourselves
in the cause of the oppressed!--If any of you should hunger, remember
Rowena has food--if you should thirst, she has many a butt of wine and
brown ale--and if the Normans drive ye from these walks, Rowena has
forests of her own, where her gallant deliverers may range at full
freedom, and never ranger ask whose arrow hath struck down the deer."

"Thanks, gentle lady,"