eath who comes at last.'"

The old Abbot raised his sightless eyes to heaven and said:

"'Sister, let thy sorrows cease;
Sinful brother, part in peace!'"

Up from the direful place of doom, to the light of day and to the fresh
air, passed those who had held this awful trial. Shrieks and groans
followed the winding steps. The peasant who heard the unearthly cries
bowed his head, the hermit told his beads, the brother crossed himself,
even the stag on Cheviot hills bounded to his feet, listened and then
trembling lay down to hide among the mountain ferns.

[Illustration: THE STUDY, ABBOTSFORD.]

CHAPTER III.

We now return to Lord Marmion, who, led by the Palmer, was hastening on
to Holyrood. When the heights of Lammermoor were reached, noon had long
passed, and at early nightfall, old Gifford's towers lay before them.
Here they had expected hospitality, but the lord of the Castle had gone
to Scotland's camp, where were gathered the noblest and bravest of her
sons. No friendly summons called them to the hall, for in her lord's
absence, the lady refused admittance alike to friend and foe.

On through the hamlet rode the train until it drew rein at the inn. Now
down from their seats sprang the horsemen. The courtyard rang with
jingling spurs, horses were led to the stalls, and the bustling host
gave double the orders that could be obeyed. The building was large, and
though rudely built, its cheerful fire and savory food were most welcome
to the weary men. Soon by the wide chimney's roaring blaze, and in the
place of state, sat Marmion. He watched his followers as they mixed the
brown ale, and enjoyed the bountiful repast. Oft the lordly warrior
mingled in the mirth they made.

"For though, with men of high degree,
The proudest of the proud was he,
Yet, trained in camp, he knew the art
To win the soldier's hardy heart.
Boisterous as March, yet fresh as May,
With open hand and brow as free,
Lover of wine and minstrelsy."

Directly opposite, resting on his staff, stood the Palmer, the thin,
dark visage half seen, half hidden by his hood. Steadily he gazed on
Marmion, who by frown and gesture gave evidence that he could ill bear
so close a scrutiny.

As squire and archer looked at the stern, dark face of the Pilgrim,
their bursts of laughter grew less loud, less frequent, and gradually
their mirth declined. They whispered one to another: "Sawest thou ever
such a f