ixed with sighs, and tears, and convulsive throbs, which bore
witness how deeply he felt the divine poetry which he recited. The
Scottish knight assisted with profound sincerity at these acts of
devotion, his opinion of his host beginning, in the meantime, to be so
much changed, that he doubted whether, from the severity of his penance
and the ardour of his prayers, he ought not to regard him as a saint;
and when they arose from the ground, he stood with reverence before
him, as a pupil before an honoured master. The hermit was, on his side,
silent and abstracted for the space of a few minutes.

"Look into yonder recess, my son," he said, pointing to the farther
corner of the cell; "there thou wilt find a veil--bring it hither."

The knight obeyed, and in a small aperture cut out of the wall, and
secured with a door of wicker, he found the veil inquired for. When he
brought it to the light, he discovered that it was torn, and soiled in
some places with some dark substance. The anchorite looked at it with
a deep but smothered emotion, and ere he could speak to the Scottish
knight, was compelled to vent his feelings in a convulsive groan.

"Thou art now about to look upon the richest treasure that the earth
possesses," he at length said; "woe is me, that my eyes are unworthy to
be lifted towards it! Alas! I am but the vile and despised sign, which
points out to the wearied traveller a harbour of rest and security, but
must itself remain for ever without doors. In vain have I fled to the
very depths of the rocks, and the very bosom of the thirsty desert. Mine
enemy hath found me--even he whom I have denied has pursued me to my
fortresses."

He paused again for a moment, and turning to the Scottish knight, said,
in a firmer tone of voice, "You bring me a greeting from Richard of
England?"

"I come from the Council of Christian Princes," said the knight;
"but the King of England being indisposed, I am not honoured with his
Majesty's commands."

"Your token?" demanded the recluse.

Sir Kenneth hesitated. Former suspicions, and the marks of insanity
which the hermit had formerly exhibited, rushed suddenly on his
thoughts; but how suspect a man whose manners were so saintly? "My
password," he said at length, "is this--Kings begged of a beggar."

"It is right," said the hermit, while he paused. "I know you well; but
the sentinel upon his post--and mine is an important one--challenges
friend as well as foe."

He then m