he spirit. She soon regained her composure,
as she uttered firmly: "They are--my altar and my faith!"

Egerton felt as though a sudden stroke had separated them for ever--as
though it were the last look of some beloved thing just wrenched from
his grasp. This very feeling, had none other prompted, made him more
anxious for its recovery; and he would have urged his suit with all
the energy of a reckless desperation, but the maiden firmly resisted.

"Urge me not again: not all the inducements I trust that even thou
couldest offer would make me forget my fealty! No more--I hear thee
not. The tempter I know hath too many allies within the
citadel--worldly vanities and unsubdued affections--to suffer me to
parley with the traitors and listen to their unholy suggestions. Again
I say, I hear thee not."

Finding it was in vain, he forbore to persecute her further; and after
having merely tasted of the cordial, and partaken of a slight
refreshment, he listlessly inquired if the term of his imprisonment
would soon expire.

"Tarry here for a season, until the heat and energy of the pursuit be
overpast, or at least abated. We could not find a more fitting place
of concealment."

"Being straitened for moneys until we can obtain succour from our
friends, I cannot reward your hospitality as I would desire; but if we
are brought forth and delivered safely from this thrall, thy father's
house shall not be forgotten."

"We will not touch the least of all thy gifts," said the maiden:
"forbid that we sold our succour to the distressed, though it were to
the most cruel and bitter of our enemies!"

A sudden thought excited this noble-hearted female. She cautiously
approached her companion, who, having discontinued his perambulations,
had seated himself in a corner, awaiting the termination of their
interview. Knowing that he had generally a hoard of moneys about his
person--for covetousness was ever his besetting sin--she ventured to
solicit a loan, either for herself or the stranger, judging that
Egerton's escape would be much impeded, if, as he had just confessed,
his finances were hardly sufficient for his ordinary expenditure.

"And so I must give my blood and my groats to nourish thy sweethearts,
wench," said the surly money-lender. "I have saved this prelatist and
malignant from his adversaries, and now"----He considered a while,
muttering his thoughts and arguments to himself with a most confused
and volatile impetuosity of