lking of prophecies, lamentations,
and judgments, and charging him with a mighty and terrible mission. All
these things I have heard from his own lips, and I have heard and seen
much more, which has satisfied me that his intellects are disordered,
and that he cannot be held accountable for his actions."

"If such be the case, he should have been kept under restraint, and not
suffered to go abroad," said Sir Thomas. "Such madmen are highly
mischievous and dangerous. Much blame rests with you, maiden."

"The whole blame is mine!" she exclaimed. "I confess my error--my
crime--and will atone for it willingly with my life, provided he be
spared. If a sacrifice must be made, let me be the victim."

"There is no sacrifice, and no victim," returned Sir Thomas gravely,
though he was not unmoved by her filial devotion. "There is an offender,
and there will be justice; and justice must be satisfied. Inexorable as
fate, her dread sentences cannot be averted."

"O, honourable Sir! you may one day recall those words; for which of us
can hold himself free from offence? My father is not guilty in the eyes
of Heaven; or if he be, I am equally culpable, since I ought to have
prevented the commission of the crime. O, I shall never forgive myself
that I did not follow him when he parted from me yesterday!"

"Let me hear how that occurred, maiden?" asked Sir Thomas.

"It chanced in this way, Sir. I have already described my father's state
of mind, and the distempered view he has been accustomed to take of all
things. Yesterday, May-day sports were held in the village of Tottenham,
where we dwelt; and as such things are an abomination in his sight, he
took upon him to reprove the actors in the pastimes. They who witnessed
his conduct on that occasion would hardly hold him to be under the due
control of reason. Amongst the spectators was the son of an old friend,
whose name having accidentally reached my father, he invited him into
the house, and a misunderstanding having arisen between them, the latter
suddenly left--dismissed almost with rudeness. On his departure, my
father was greatly disturbed--more so than I have ever seen him. After
awhile, he withdrew to his own chamber, as was his habit, to pray, and I
hoped would become tranquillized; but the very reverse happened, for
when he reappeared, I saw at once that a fearful change had taken place
in him. His eye blazed with preternatural light, his gestures were wild
and alarming, and