ation shone upon
without envy, its shadow. Who then" (continued the minstrel, once more
striking his harp), "who then would remain inglorious in the hall?
Shall not the banners of his sires reproach him as they wave? and shall
not every voice from Palestine strike shame into his soul?"

"Right," cried Otho, suddenly, and flinging himself at the feet of his
father. "Thou hearest what my brother has done, and thine aged eyes
weep tears of joy. Shall I only dishonour thine old age with a rusted
sword? No! grant me, like my brother, to go forth with the heroes of
the Cross!"

"Noble youth," cried the harper, "therein speaks the soul of Sir
Warbeck; hear him, sir knight,--hear the noble youth."

"Heaven cries aloud in his voice," said the Templar, solemnly.

"My son, I cannot chide thine ardour," said the old chief, raising him
with trembling hands; "but Leoline, thy betrothed?"

Pale as a statue, with ears that doubted their sense as they drank in
the cruel words of her lover, stood the orphan. She did not speak, she
scarcely breathed; she sank into her seat, and gazed upon the ground,
till, at the speech of the chief, both maiden pride and maiden
tenderness restored her consciousness, and she said:

"I, uncle!--Shall I bid Otho stay when his wishes bid him depart?"

"He will return to thee, noble ladye, covered with glory," said the
harper: but Otho said no more. The touching voice of Leoline went to
his soul; he resumed his seat in silence; and Leoline, going up to him,
whispered gently, "Act as though I were not;" and left the hall to
commune with her heart and to weep alone.

"I can wed her before I go," said Otho, suddenly, as he sat that night
in the Templar's chamber.

"Why, that is true! and leave thy bride in the first week--a hard
trial!"

"Better than incur the chance of never calling her mine. Dear, kind,
beloved Leoline!"

"Assuredly, she deserves all from thee; and, indeed, it is no small
sacrifice, at thy years and with thy mien, to renounce for ever all
interest among the noble maidens thou wilt visit. Ah, from the
galleries of Constantinople what eyes will look down on thee, and what
ears, learning that thou art Otho the bridegroom, will turn away,
caring for thee no more! A bridegroom without a bride! Nay, man, much
as the Cross wants warriors, I am enough thy friend to tell thee, if
thou weddest, to stay peaceably at home, and forget in the chase the
labours of war, from which thou