foibles of the old man's character, he was doatingly fond of his daughter; and the news of her loss, coming in the midst of revelry, seemed to have withered him like a thunderbolt. He sat still, looking on the confusion with a vacant gaze, and inquiring from time to time, "Is my daughter well? How fares it with the Lady Elfrida? Does she not come to her old father ?" These three personages therefore remained quietly upon their seats, while every one around them was in commotion; like the bronzed images in modern halls, that hold their candelabras so calmly, while the guests are all in the bustle of departure. Things remained in this disagreeable position for some minutes, when the blowing of a horn, and a loud talking and shouting without, announced that something had taken place. Presently, accompanied by a crowd of peasants half accoutred for the pursuit, Lothaire entered the hall. Leofwyn raised his head, and being in some measure recalled to his recollection by the sight of his son, repeated his inquiry, "is my daughter well?" "She is well!" said Lothaire, "and I am well! no thanks to my new friend, the doughty Sir Richard de Mallory, from whom, to say truth, mine headpiece hath received a most mischievous contusion. Thanks to thee, good steel," he continued, taking off his helmet, and surveying the deep indenture which appeared on its summit, "had not thy temper been true, thy master's head had lain on the couch from which no man lifteth himself up." He was interrupted by a thousand interrogatories, a great proportion of which proceeded from Leofwyn, who had by this time recovered from the effects of his sudden shock, and began to feel great curiosity to know the particulars of the story. "I know but little of the matter," said Lothaire, "ye see I have been overthrown in no light fashion, (they perceived for the first time that his apparel bore marks of a recent fall) and in truth had it not been for the in tervention of my good friend in the ragged doublet, I had hardly lived to tell ye the tale.” "Of whom dost thou speak ?" said Leofwyn. 66 "That is more than I can tell," replied the young Saxon; Not many paces hence did I encounter the valorous Sir Richard, who is now, peace be with him, no longer a man of this world. I had a heavy stroke, as ye may witness; nevertheless, it was my horse's fault, or I had not been so foiled. I believe another minute would have caught the last breath of Lothaire, but for the help of the aforesaid knight of the ragged doublet; by the sword of Harold! he overthrew that proud Norman as if he were wrestling with a child. I saw not his features, but by his apparel he seemed to be the esquire of thine hopeful son-in-law, Reginald d'Arennes. But ye will see him presently." Lothaire was supported from the hall, and put under the care of the leech; for his wound, although he made so light of it in his story, wore a dangerous ap pearance. As he retired, another loud acclamation announced the arrival of Elfrida's deliverer. A tall, well-made figure, advanced towards the dais, clad, as Lothaire had intimated, in a short ragged doublet, with a small cap which was quite insufficient to confine the long dark tresses that floated luxuriantly down his neck. His arm supported the real Elfrida, whose personal charms amply deserved the encomium which had been lavished upon them in the forest. Animation seemed hardly restored to that beautiful form. Her eyes were half closed and her cheek very pale. Providence be thanked," cried Leofwyn, "that my child is restored to me!" Now it has been already hinted that Elfrida was possessed of a disposition somewhat untractable; in fact, loath as I am to speak aught ill of the fair sex, I must confess that the Lady Elfrida partook, in no trifling pegree, both of the fantastic whims of her father Leofwyn, and the violent obstinacy of her brother Lothaire. The reader therefore will not be surprised when he hears that the Saxon beauty, bowing respectfully to her father, thus addressed him : "Not to thee, my father, not to thee is thy daughter restored; in good and in evil, in life and in death, she shall abide with her preserver-with him who hath delivered her from the grasp of the spoiler." "Thou art mad, my child!" said the old man in astonishment, "the knight that sued for thee thou didst contemn and reject, and wilt thou now wed with his serving-man ?" Elfrida appeared to recollect the circumstances which had preceded her capture; the suitor who had solicited her hand; and the deceit which she had conspired to put upon him: she looked up to the dais, and beheld Bertha, her waiting-woman, seated by the side of the Norman guest; she glanced round and met the eye of her preserver turned upon her with an expression of the deepest adoration; she looked no further, but immediately, addressing her father, said, "Why should it not be so, my father? To-day thou hast married thine handmaid to the Knight ;-to-morrow thou shalt marry thy daughter to the Knave." Her unknown deliverer, at these words, began to stare about him; he gazed upon his dress, upon his attendants, upon Elfrida; and then, with all the embarrassment of a performer who comes forward to play in a pageant without the smallest acquaintance with his part, observed, "this morning was I a Knight, mounted on a goodly steed, and clad in goodly apparel; but whether I am now Norman or Saxon, Knight or Knave, by my grandfather's sword-I doubt." Leofwyn stared; his large eyes were dilated into a truly comic expression of astonishment. "Who art thou?" he cried at last to the bridegroom: "art thou Reginald d'Arennes? or must we hang thee for a rogue ?" Peace, good father-in-law," said the sham Reginald, 66 shaking off his drunkenness, and leering around him with an arch look of self-satisfaction, "I am not Reginald d'Arennes, but yet as good a man! I am Robin, the son of Egwulph; truly a cunning Knave, and a wily." "I do begin to perceive," said the waiting-woman, Bertha, looking on the sham Reginald with a disappointed air, "that our plot hath altogether failed.” "Mine hath fared no better!" said the Knave, returning a glance of equal disappointment upon the mock Elfrida. "In this I have been but a silly Knave, and a witless!" Dost thou comprehend, gentle reader, the circumstances which led to these mistakes? or is it necessary for me to inform thee, that the Knave, Robin, proceeded to Kennet-hold in Reginald's apparel, with the purpose of revenging, by his wedding with the heiress, the death of his master, which he fancied had been occasioned by the heir; that at Kennet-hold the said Knave met with the counterplot which had been prepared by the jocose Saxon, and became the husband of the maid instead of the mistress; that Reginald, recovering from his swoon, after the departure of his attendant, advanced towards Kennet-hold, and encountered, in his way, his new acquaintance, Richard de Mallory; from whom he had the good fortune to rescue the life of Lothaire and the honour of Elfrida? There is yet one point unexplained. The reader must be aware that a considerable interval took place between the memorable blow given by Lothaire, and his rencontre with de Mallory. Upon this point the MS. makes mention of Winifred-a certain arch-damsel, who but Decorum puts her forefinger on her mouth-I have done. pro Rather than desert a longes tablished custom, I ceed to state that the personages of my Tale lived and loved to a green old age. Robin died before it was tho roughly decided whether he was more properly termed "the Wily" or " the Witless." Reginald, it appears, never got rid of his old trick of hesitation, for it is upon record, that when he told the story of his adventures to Cœur de Lion, at the siege of Acre, and was asked by the humorous Monarch whether the Knight or the Knave were the more fortunate bridegroom, he scratched his chin for a few minutes, played with his sword for a few more, and replied slowly, "I have doubts as touching this matter." "I would not lose the thought that flies In the bright bowers of Paradise, BARRY CORNWALL. I. I KNEW that Death was stern and strong, |