t, and making the church glitter like a
stupendous diamond. But Gilbert was ill-prepared to enjoy this blaze of
beauty. In a melancholy mood he leaned against the window, watching the
sturdy serf in the centre of his family, as he came to share the
blessings of the Mass. He was rather startled when the outer door opened
and admitted the lady he had seen in the church the night before with
Henry de Stramen. She came unattended, save by an old female servant,
who carried with some difficulty a basket filled with fruits,
delicacies, and medicines of various kinds, designed for Father Omehr to
apply to any purpose his piety might point out.

Though in the year 1076 chivalry was not the regular and well-defined
institution it became during and after the Crusades, yet the same amount
of valor and devotion to woman was expected from the knight. The spirit
of Christianity, operating upon Teutonic virtue, which has raised the
woman from the drudge of man to be the ornament of society, created a
chivalric courtesy long before the cry of "_Deus vult!_" rang from Italy
to England. Gilbert de Hers, born and bred in the courtly circle of
Suabia, though his spurs were not yet won, was still familiar with the
duties of knighthood. As the lady paused, surprised at his presence, he
made a profound and respectful reverence, and he would have done the
same had she been less noble, or had he known, as he then surmised, that
the fair visitor was the daughter of his father's deadliest foe.

Their embarrassment was relieved by the appearance of Father Omehr, who
extended to both his blessing, gratefully received the basket from the
attendant, and, after Margaret de Stramen had retired, accompanied
Gilbert to the church. As they emerged into the morning air, Gilbert
caught a glimpse of the graceful figure of the young lady entering the
church. But his attention was soon arrested by a strange, wild-looking
being upon the church steps. She was apparently not over forty, tall,
slightly built, and evidently the victim of insanity. Her long black
hair hung in thick masses over her pale face and deathly-white neck; her
arms swung to and fro with a restless motion, and she sang at intervals
snatches from the ballads for which Suabia is so renowned. As Gilbert
passed her, she bent her large wild eyes upon him with an expression of
such fearful meaning, that brave as was the youth in battle, he recoiled
from their ferocious glare. The next instant she w