rrow being almonsday at the hall, the
poor have free admission, and thou mayest have a sight of him there:
peradventure, as thou art strange in these parts, it will be needful
thou hadst a guide."

"And just ready for the job thyself, I'se warrant," bitterly snarled the
exasperated husband. The storm, long threatening, was about to burst
forth; but the palmer, with holy and beseeching words, soothed for
awhile the angry disputants, at the same time intimating that a guide
was unnecessary, the situation of the house being sufficiently obvious
from whatever quarter he might direct his steps.

The stranger seemed not solicitous of repose, and Giles was too sulky to
inquire his wants. The dame, however, drew a bundle of clean straw from
a huge heap, and threw it beside the hearth. A coarse and heavy rug,
over which was thrown a sheep-skin with the wool innermost, constituted
a warm but homely couch. A horn cup filled with cider and a burnt
barley-cake were next exhibited, of which the palmer made a healthful,
if not a sumptuous repast. Giles growled off to the loft above; and the
dame, caring little for the sequel of her husband's humours, soon found
a resting-place by his side.

Morning shone brightly and cheerfully through the chinks and crevices of
both door and lattice; but the pilgrim's couch was yet unsought. His
vigils had been undisturbed, save when the baying of some vagrant and
ill-disciplined dogs, or the lusty carol of some valiant yeoman, reeling
home after a noisy debauch, startled him from a painfully-recurring
thought, to which, however, the mind involuntarily turned when the
interruption had ceased.

It was late ere Giles awoke. Breathless with expectation, he hastened
below, anticipating a rich budget of news from his guest; but he had
departed.

It was one of those fresh and glittering mornings which autumn alone can
produce. Keen, pure, and exhilarating, the air seemed all buoyant and
elastic, tinging the cheeks with ruddy health, and animating the whole
frame with renewed vigour.

A slight hoar-frost yet lay on the thatched roofs. Calm and undisturbed,
a gem-like brightness twinkled from every object; whilst the vapours
that covered them looked not as the shroud, but rather as a pure mantle
of eider, hiding the fair bosom to which it clung.

The pilgrim entered a narrow street leading to the postern or gate,
called Standish-gate. In those days it was not, as now, a wide and free
thoroughfare fo