ion; so vast, when living, that the
whole earth is too narrow for its sphere; when dead, the veriest churl
hath as wide a possession!

Weeks and months passed away, and the raw February wind grew soft in the
warm and joyous impulse of another spring. One night, about the hour of
vespers, two men, habited in monkish apparel, came to the cell of the
Hermit of the Rock. After the usual salutation they entered, carrying
with them staff and scrip, as if bent on a long and weary travel.

"Whence come ye, and whither bound?" said the hermit, surveying the
intruders by the light of a solitary lamp that was burning in a niche,
wherein stood a skull and crucifix, emblems of our faith and our
mortality.

"We are from the Abbey of Stanlaw, on our way to Kirkstall in the
morning."

"Wherefore abide ye here? There is lodging and better cheer withal in
the castle above."

"We are under a vow, and rest not save on holy ground: we crave thy
hospitality, therefore, and shelter for the night."

"Is your errand to Kirkstall hidden, or is it an open embassage?"

"The Lady Fitz-Eustace sendeth greeting by our ministry unto the holy
abbot through our superior at Stanlaw, beseeching that he would make
diligent inquiry touching the will of Robert de Lacy, once lord of this
goodly heritage. She hath had news of his demise, and likewise another
message with an assurance that every of these possessions have been
devised to the Fitz-Eustace by his last will and testament. Yet this
writing she has not yet seen, nor knoweth she into whose custody it hath
been given. Apprehending the great favours which the Cistercian house at
Kirkstall hath received from the Lacies, and the close intimacy which
the abbot once enjoyed, she doth conjecture that, in all likelihood, the
testament is in his keeping."

"Your journey hath need of none other reference, for the will is in my
custody."

"In thine, Sir Ulphilas?"

"How! know ye my name already?" said the hermit sharply, and a fierce
glance shot from under his high and pallid brow.

"Holy St Agatha! and has not the fame and sanctity of the Hermit of the
Rock gone forth to many lands! Where the broad Mersey and the silver Dee
roll their bright waters, thou art known by thy holiness and thy faith."

"And how is our good brother Roger, abbot of your monastery at Stanlaw?"
inquired the hermit, not deigning to notice their fulsome and flattering
epithets.

"Holy Virgin! how knowest thou his name?"