d
to him, and in a tone of compassion approaching to tenderness, a
corresponding reply rushed to the knight's lips, and scarce could
Richard's commands and his own promised silence prevent his answering
that the sight he saw, the sounds he just heard, were sufficient to
recompense the slavery of a life, and dangers which threatened that
life every hour. He did recollect himself, however, and a deep and
impassioned sigh was his only reply to the high-born Edith's question.

"I see--I know I have guessed right," continued Edith. "I marked you
from your first appearance near the platform on which I stood with the
Queen. I knew, too, your valiant hound. She is no true lady, and
is unworthy of the service of such a knight as thou art, from whom
disguises of dress or hue could conceal a faithful servant. Speak, then,
without fear to Edith Plantagenet. She knows how to grace in adversity
the good knight who served, honoured, and did deeds of arms in her name,
when fortune befriended him.--Still silent! Is it fear or shame that
keeps thee so! Fear should be unknown to thee; and for shame, let it
remain with those who have wronged thee."

The knight, in despair at being obliged to play the mute in an interview
so interesting, could only express his mortification by sighing deeply,
and laying his finger upon his lips. Edith stepped back, as if somewhat
displeased.

"What!" she said, "the Asiatic mute in very deed, as well as in attire?
This I looked not for. Or thou mayest scorn me, perhaps, for thus boldly
acknowledging that I have heedfully observed the homage thou hast paid
me? Hold no unworthy thoughts of Edith on that account. She knows well
the bounds which reserve and modesty prescribe to high-born maidens,
and she knows when and how far they should give place to gratitude--to
a sincere desire that it were in her power to repay services and repair
injuries arising from the devotion which a good knight bore towards her.
Why fold thy hands together, and wring them with so much passion? Can
it be," she added, shrinking back at the idea, "that their cruelty
has actually deprived thee of speech? Thou shakest thy head. Be it a
spell--be it obstinacy, I question thee no further, but leave thee to do
thine errand after thine own fashion. I also can be mute."

The disguised knight made an action as if at once lamenting his own
condition and deprecating her displeasure, while at the same time he
presented to her, wrapped, as usu