igures clothed in white, with
outspread wings, and golden crowns, intended, perhaps, to represent
angels; and as Clifford passed under the arch, they chanted these
lines--

"Now the Red Rose blooms again,
Clifford o'er his own shall reign.
Fill the cup, and sheath the sword,
To welcome back our noble lord."

And now the shepherd lord stood once more in his father's bannered hall.
Silently he gazed around him on the well-known scene, too powerfully
affected to give utterance to his feelings; and, as his mother clasped
his hand, she felt that it trembled even more than her own.

"Let us pass on, my Henry," she whispered softly, "we must hold
communion alone."

Henry could not speak, but he pressed her hand assentingly, and they
left the hall together, amid the congratulations and good wishes of all
therein assembled.

The mother and son were absent for the space of an hour, engaged, no
doubt, in prayer and thanksgiving, for when they returned to the hall
Henry had recovered his composure, and took the highest seat at the
sumptuous banquet with all the dignity of his noble race.

Gladsome was the feast that day at Brougham Castle; joyous were the
songs of the minstrel bards as they celebrated, in extempore verse, the
exile's restoration to his long lost home.

You may be sure that amongst the joyful assemblage that crowded the
banquetting hall on that auspicious day, old Robin and his wife Maud
held a distinguished place; and proud indeed were they to hear
themselves addressed by the noble host as father and mother.

It was not long after that another grand feast was held at Brougham
Castle in honour of the marriage of its lord, which had been celebrated
at Bletso, where the beautiful daughter of Sir John Saint John willingly
bestowed her hand on him who, as a simple shepherd, had won a place in
her heart.

The only drawback to the happiness of our hero was the consciousness of
his neglected education. Unable to read or write, he cared not to mix
with the nobles of the court, but preferred living in retirement, and
with great simplicity. His grand object was to repair all his castles,
which had been much injured daring the wars, and he expended vast sums
of money in fitting up some of them with princely magnificence; but his
own favourite residence was a quiet retreat called Barden Tower, near
Bolton Priory, in Yorkshire. He chose this for his chief abode because
it afforded him the opportunity of s