d gravely by Cedric--by common consent
the chief of the distinguished Saxon families present.

"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we
last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render
you, to grant me a boon."

"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad
moment----"

"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is
brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble
Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."

"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour
of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."

"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will
admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black
Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to
my boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive
to thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."

"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's
feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."

"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of
Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a
Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena
must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost
of Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to
his memory were it otherwise."

Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane,
arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard,
and like something arisen from the dead!

"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal,
speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"

"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected
breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed
on bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's
sword, stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me
flatlings, being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow.
Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so
that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an
open one, by good luck--placed before the altar in church. But that
villain Abbot has kept me a prisoner for three days and h