ne.

He was calm and composed--that unhappy youth; he looked the baron
straight in the face, he did not honour Etienne or any one else
with a single glance; but waited to be questioned.

"Wilfred of Aescendune," said his stepfather, "why didst thou
absent thyself yesterday, and traverse dangerous roads without
permission?"

No answer.

"Didst thou fly because thou fearedst the combat, which thine own
unmannerly insolence had brought upon thee?"

"No."

It was the only word Wilfred spoke, and that with emphasis. Etienne
sneered.

"Perhaps thou mightest not have fled hadst thou known that the
combat would have been a mere form. I had instructed the marshal of
the lists to prevent deadly results."

Again Etienne cast a look at his companions, which seemed to give
the lie to these words.

"Wilt thou promise to make no further attempt to leave the demesne
without permission if thou art released from superveillance?"

"No," once more.

"Then I will no longer retain the charge of thee. Thou shalt go and
do penance at the priory of thy sainted namesake, till thou dost
come to a better mind. I will send thee after supper, and give
fitting charge to Father Elphege."

Wilfred was forced to sit down during the meal, but he ate nothing.

When it was ended, the baron called old Osbert the seneschal and
gave his instructions. They led the youth away; he did not return
the baron's half-ironical salutation, but departed with his guards
in silence.

High was the wassail in the castle that night, and many casks of
wine were broached; at length all sought their couches and slept
heavily.

But in the middle of the night many sleepers were aroused by the
cry of FIRE! yet so heavy with wine were they, that few arose; hut
most heard it as a man hears some sound in his sleep, which he half
suspects to belong to dreamland, and turns again to his pillow.

Imagine the surprise with which such men (including Etienne,
Pierre, and the other late companions of the unhappy Wilfred)
learned that the monastery had caught fire accidentally in the
night, and that so sudden had been the conflagration that none had
escaped.

None! No; so far as men could discover. The priory built by Offa of
Aescendune was a heap of smoking embers, and monks were there none,
neither had any heard aught of the English heir of Aescendune.

The poor English who yet remained in the village were weeping over
their lost friends, and the very Norman men-a