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      ��"How have I desired to behold the prophet—who hath risen up to be the champion of the oppressed. My breast burned within me when I saw the poor man trampled on. I sheltered a bondman—I was vexed with the law—stripped of my all—beggared, and nothing left me but bondage or a jail!—I am weary of the hard hand that presses down the poor! Holy father, let me join the good cause."

      CHAPTER I"Aye, and enough too!" said Turner; "and, mind ye, nothing but rent—no service. Let every man be free to work, and get money for his work, and give money for his land, and know what he has to pay: I don't like your services—so many days' labour, or so much corn, or so many head of cattle, and so on: and then, if any thing happens that he fails to the very day, though the land should have been held by his great-grandfather, why he has no claim to it! 'Tis time all this should be done away with.—But now go on with the rest."�



      "Why, my Lord de Boteler," said Richard, taking up the writ, and glancing over the characters, "this is a prohibitory writ from the chancery! Where was this found?"�Turner was prepared for direct and haughty questions from the baron; but the covert and gentle manner of the lady rather disconcerted him: however, though he paused with a momentary embarrassment, yet, contrary to Isabella's expectation, he firmly, but with a kind of native propriety, replied—

      All was silence as the galleyman proceeded; labour had ceased, the evening repast was made, and many of the inhabitants of the village had already retired to rest. The evening was clear and cold, and the firmament was radiant with stars, the moon being only a few days old. By some strange impulse, the man who had so often gazed upon the far-spread beauty of an ocean sky, stood still for a moment here; and, by as strange a conceit, the silvery semicircle above, as it seemed, even in the crowd of lesser lights, brought to his mind the ever-smiling beauty of Lucy Hartwell. The wanderer lingered for a space—then hesitated—then turned suddenly—and, in less than five minutes, he had pushed open the hatch of old Hartwell's door and had entered boldly."There have, indeed, been strange things done here to-day, my liege," replied De Boteler, smiling, but at heart annoyed at the thoughtless observation.�


      "And this is all!—you refuse explanation! you do not even deny the authorship! Are you not aware, that he who could obtain access to the chamber now must necessarily be considered the robber of the child?"�


      When Wells had sprung into the loft, accusing himself of the part he had taken in Edith's trial, and of the nefarious traffic which had placed him in the power of Black Jack, he vowed that, in future, his dealings should be strictly honest; that he would give a portion of his worldly goods to the poor; offer a certain sum to the Abbot of Gloucester for masses to be said for the soul of Edith, and endeavour to make what atonement he could by befriending Holgrave. But in a few hours his feelings became less acute; and we believe all of his vow that he fulfilled was that of striving to aid Holgrave, and becoming, to a certain degree, honest in his dealings. The next day he began to feel that depression of spirits usually experienced by persons accustomed to stimulants. Several times was he tempted to go out and brave detection,—but a fear lest some of the fair-folks should recognize him, made him pause.��

      "And if you had never known me," said Holgrave, starting up and grasping Turner's hand, "you need not have changed your name: but you are an honest man, let you be called what you may—and Stephen Holgrave will never forget what you have done for him and his."��



      "Confound you, and your flowers!—you are sure every thing is in order?"�The retainers approached to execute the order. Turner glanced hastily around, but no weapon, or any portable article that might serve the purpose of one, was at hand: he, therefore, had only to step back a few paces, and to place himself in the best attitude of resistance he could.