the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "My voice
shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised in behalf of the
absent Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge.
Could my weak warrant add security to the inestimable pledge of this
holy pilgrim, I would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud
knight the meeting he desires."

A crowd of conflicting emotions seemed to have occupied Cedric, and
kept him silent during this discussion. Gratified pride, resentment,
embarrassment, chased each other over his broad and open brow, like the
shadow of clouds drifting over a harvest-field; while his attendants,
on whom the name of the sixth knight seemed to produce an effect almost
electrical, hung in suspense upon their master's looks. But when Rowena
spoke, the sound of her voice seemed to startle him from his silence.

"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I
myself, offended, and justly offended, as I am, would yet gage my honour
for the honour of Ivanhoe. But the wager of battle is complete, even
according to the fantastic fashions of Norman chivalry--Is it not,
Father Aymer?"

"It is," replied the Prior; "and the blessed relic and rich chain will I
bestow safely in the treasury of our convent, until the decision of this
warlike challenge."

Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and again, and after
many genuflections and muttered prayers, he delivered the reliquary to
Brother Ambrose, his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with less
ceremony, but perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, the golden
chain, and bestowed it in a pouch lined with perfumed leather, which
opened under his arm. "And now, Sir Cedric," he said, "my ears are
chiming vespers with the strength of your good wine--permit us another
pledge to the welfare of the Lady Rowena, and indulge us with liberty to
pass to our repose."

"By the rood of Bromholme," said the Saxon, "you do but small credit to
your fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hear
the matin chime ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared to
have shame in encountering you. But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve,
in my time, would not so soon have relinquished his goblet."

The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the course
of temperance which he had adopted. He was not only a professional
peacemaker, but from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls. It was