f blood, as ninety years before the
Cross had triumphed over the Crescent within its walls, but with
what in those days passed for gentleness, peace, and mercy.

For it was left to the Saracens to teach something of their own
doctrines to the followers of Christ.

During all those forty days Rosamund and Wulf lay in their
separate prisons, awaiting their doom of death. The letter of
Godwin was brought to Wulf, who read it and rejoiced to learn
that his brother lived. Then it was taken from him to Rosamund,
who, although she rejoiced also, wept over it, and wondered a
little what it might mean. Of one thing she was sure from its
wording--that they had no hope of life.

They knew that Jerusalem had fallen, for they heard the shouts of
triumph of the Moslems, and from far away, through their prison
bars could see the endless multitude of fugitives passing the
ancient gates laden with baggage, and leading their children by
the hand, to seek refuge in the cities of the coast. At this
sight, although it was so sad, Rosamund was happy, knowing also
that now she would not suffer in vain.

At length the camp broke up, Saladin and many of the soldiers
entering Jerusalem; but still the pair were left languishing in
their dismal cells, which were fashioned from old tombs. One
evening, while Rosamund was kneeling; at prayer before she sought
her bed, the door of the place was opened, and there appeared a
glittering captain and a guard of soldiers, who saluted her and
bade her follow him.

"Is it the end?" she asked.

"Lady," he answered, "it is the end." So she bowed her head
meekly and followed. Without a litter was ready, in which they
placed her and bore her through the bright moonlight into the
city of Jerusalem and along the Way of Sorrow, till they halted
at a great door, which she knew again, for by it stood the
ancient arch.

"They have brought me back to the Convent of the Holy Cross to
kill me where I asked that I might be buried," she murmured to
herself as she descended from the litter.

Then the doors were thrown open, and she entered the great
courtyard of the convent, and saw that it was decorated as though
for a festival, for about it and in the cloisters round hung many
lamps. More; these cloisters and the space in front of them were
crowded with Saracen lords, wearing their robes of state, while
yonder sat Saladin and his court.

"They would make a brave show of my death," thought Rosamund
again. The