he Gothic enciente of the Baron
de Botetourt's dwelling. A banner waves from the topmost tower to do thee
honor and welcome; there walks, too, by the battlements, one whose night
has been sleepless because of thee, whose thoughts and whose whole
existence centre in thee, whose look firmly attaches to the road that
brings thee to her. Ride on then speedily, Sir Knight, to the happiness
thy virtue and thy deeds have so well deserved.

This lover is no ordinary suitor: he is of mingled Saxon and Norman noble
blood, the recent companion-in-arms of Richard Coeur de Lion. His name is
Ralph de Sudley, and though he has passed his thirtieth year, the effect
of long toil and war scarcely appears upon his handsome and still very
youthful countenance. Yet the knight has seen and endured much: he has
been with Richard at the siege and capture of Acre, and at the battle of
Azotus. When Conrad of Montferrat fell by the dagger of the assassins,
Sir Ralph took a prominent part in the stormy debates which ensued among
the Crusaders. He even proposed with his men-at-arms, and those who would
follow him, to invade the territory of the Lord of the Mountain, and to
avenge in his blood the death which that king of murderers had caused to
be done to Conrad. This event made so deep an impression on his mind,
that he still took every opportunity of urging upon his own and other
Christian governments the necessity of extirpating these eastern
assassins. On his return from the crusades, Sir Ralph found the daughter
of his friend, the Baron de Botetourt, just verging into beauteous
womanhood. The glory of his reputation, and the graces of his person,
gained her heart at once; the Lady Alianore, though much his junior in
years, loved the knight fondly and devotedly.

Sir Ralph has reached the portcullis of the castle; the wardour and
men-at-arms are there to receive him with full honors, though he comes
privately, without his armor or his followers: he wears the civil but
costly dress of the period, with no other weapon than a slight sword at
his side. But the baron will have each advent of his future son-in-law
welcomed as an approach of state.

"Grammercy, Sir Baron," observed the knight, as after passing through a
crowd of domestics, he grasped his host's hand upon the threshold, "one
would imagine me Richard of England himself, or rather Saladin, that
greatest and most gaudy of Oriental Soldans, to see this pompous prelude
to my disjune with