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 for a little space aside by the rock, but fails not to find its course to the ocean. That scroll which warned thee to demand a champion, from whom could'st thou think it came, if not from Bois-Guilbert? In whom else could'st thou have excited such interest?"

"A brief respite from instant death," said Rebecca, "which will little avail me—was this all thou could'st do for one, on whose head thou hast heaped sorrow, and whom thou hast brought near even to the verge of the tomb?"

"No, maiden," said Bois-Guilbert, "this was not all that I purposed. Had it not been for the accursed interference of yon fanatical dotard, and the fool of Goodalricke, who, being a Templar, affects to think and judge according to the ordinary rules of humanity, the office of the Champion Defender had devolved, not on a Preceptor, but on a Companion of the Order. Then I myself—such was my purpose—had, on the sounding of the trumpet, appeared in the lists as thy champion, disguised indeed in the fashion of a roving knight, who seeks adventures to prove his