At this the soul of the Baron was wroth. "The jade is at her old
pranks," said he to the devil; and then addressing Matilda: "I pray
thee, sweet niece, turn thy thoughts for a moment from that villanous
page, Edward, and give them to thine affectionate uncle."

When she heard the voice, and saw the awful apparition of her uncle (for
a year's sojourn in purgatory had not increased the comeliness of his
appearance), she started, screamed, and of course fainted.

But the devil Mercurius soon restored her to herself. "What's o'clock?"
said she, as soon as she had recovered from her fit: "is he come?"

"Not thy lover, Maude, but thine uncle--that is, his soul. For the love
of heaven, listen to me: I have been frying in purgatory for a year
past, and should have been in heaven but for the want of a single ave."

"I will say it for thee to-morrow, uncle."

"To-night, or never."

"Well, to-night be it:" and she requested the devil Mercurius to give
her the prayer-book from under the table; but he had no sooner touched
the holy book than he dropped it with a shriek and a yell. "It was
hotter," he said, "than his master Sir Lucifer's own particular
pitchfork." And the lady was forced to begin her ave without the aid of
her missal.

At the commencement of her devotions the daemon retired, and carried
with him the anxious soul of poor Sir Roger de Rollo.

The lady knelt down--she sighed deeply; she looked again at the clock,
and began--

"Ave Maria."

When a lute was heard under the window, and a sweet voice singing--

"Hark!" said Matilda.

"Now the toils of day are over,
And the sun hath sunk to rest,
Seeking, like a fiery lover,
The bosom of the blushing west--

"The faithful night keeps watch and ward,
Raising the moon, her silver shield,
And summoning the stars to guard
The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!"

"For mercy's sake!" said Sir Rollo, "the ave first, and next the song."

So Matilda again dutifully betook her to her devotions, and began--

"Ave Maria gratia plena!" but the music began again, and the prayer
ceased of course.

"The faithful night! Now all things lie
Hid by her mantle dark and dim,
In pious hope I hither hie,
And humbly chant mine ev'ning hymn.

"Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine!
(For never holy pilgrim kneel'd,
Or wept at feet more pure than thine),
My virgin