ight from your labours; my mind is troubled, and
I heed not the watching through the night. You will rise from your couch
ready for new outpourings of spiritual thought, and refreshed"----

"As a giant refreshed with wine," interrupted Gideon with another snort:
"yea, and so shall it be." Gerald's heart beat at what he considered an
acceptance of his proposal; but Godlamb Gideon continued--"Thou art kind,
and I thank thee no less that I refuse thy offer. Verily it would seem to
be a gracious and an especial vouchsafing in my favour. For, behold,
another hath released me from my task."

"Another!" cried Gerald with a tone of consternation that overcame his
caution.

"Yea, this good youth hath proffered to relieve me of my heavy burden."
Gideon pointed to Mark Maywood.

Gerald started with angry surprise. Maywood bit his lip, and turned his
head aside.

"He has taken thy post!" said Gerald choking with rage.

Gideon nodded his heavy head.

The blood boiled in Gerald's veins and rushed into his cheek. He felt for
a moment nearly suffocated with the violence of his passion. Since the
young recruit had been anxious to obtain Gideon's weary post, there could
be no doubt what was his purpose. There, and in the silence of the night,
he would be able, under Mildred's window, to pour into her ear those words
of love which he dared not openly profess. It was true, then, that Mildred
had bid him try to obtain the post of sentinel in the inner court. That
was their hour of rendezvous. Furious jealousy, joined to rage at losing
that post, on which his father's whole fate depended, contributed to
torture his mind. Not only would his detested rival find a favourable
opportunity of holding converse with that faithless girl, but he would be
there to prevent his father's escape--he, of all others--he, that fierce
and violent Republican, that determined enemy of all adherents to the
royal cause. If the vision of Maywood interchanging soft words with
Mildred at her window tormented the unhappy lover, far more agonizing were
the feelings that represented to him the stern young sentinel raising his
musket upon his shoulder to arrest the escape of the old man--shooting
him, perhaps, in his descent from the tower-window--bringing him bleeding
to the earth. Horror! Convulsed with these accumulated feelings, he stood
for a time speechless, struggling with his passions. When he looked again
upon Maywood's face, that hated individual's eyes