"God forbid," said Lucas Beaumanoir, " that Jew or Pagan should impeach us of injustice.-Until the shadows be cast from the west to the eastward, will we wait to see if a champion will appear for this unfortunate woman. When the day is so far passed, let her prepare for death."

The herald communicated the words of the Grand Master to Rebecca, who bowed her head submissively, folded her arms, and looking up towards heaven, seemed to expect that aid from above which she could scarce promise herself from man. During this awful pause, the voice of Bois Guilbert broke on her ear-it was but a whisper, yet it startled her more than the summons of the herald had appeared to do. "Rebecca," said the Templar, "doest thou hear

me?"

"I have no portion in thee, cruel, hard hearted man," said the unfortunate maiden.

"Ay, but doest thou understand my words?" said the Templar;" for the sound of my voice is frightful in mine own ears. I scarce know on what ground we stand, or for what purpose they have brought us hither. This listed space-that chair-these faggots-I know their purpose, and yet it appears to me like something unreal-the fearful picture of a vision, which appals my sense with hideous fantasies, which convince not my reason."

"My mind and senses keep touch and time," answered Rebecca, "and tell me alike that these faggots are destined to consume my earthly body, and open a painful but a brief passage to a better world."

"Dreams, Rebecca-dreams," answered the Templar;" idle visions, rejected by the wisdom of your own wiser Sadducees. Hear me, Rebecca," he said, proceeding with animation; "a better chance hast thou for life and liberty than yonder knaves and dotard dream of. Mount thee behind me on my steed-on Zamor, the gallant horse that never failed his rider.

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I won him in single fight from the Soldan of Trebizond-mount, I say, behind me-in one short hour is pursuit and inquiry far behind-a new world of pleasure opens to thee-to me a new career of fame. Let them speak the doom which I despise, and erase the name of Bois-Guilbert from their list of monastic slaves! I will wash out with blood whatever blot they may dare to cast on my scutcheon."

"Tempter," said Rebecca, "begone!-not in this last extremity canst thou move me one hair's breadth from my resting place-surrounded as I am by foes, I hold thee as my worst and most deadly-avoid thee, in the name of God!"

Albert Malvoisin, alarmed and impatient at the duration of their conference, now advanced to interrupt it.

Hath the maiden acknowledged her guilt?" he demanded of Bois-Guilbert; "or is she resolute in her denial?"

"She is indeed resolute," said Bois-Guilbert.

"Then," said Malvoisin, "must thou, noble brother, resume thy place to attend the issue-The shades are changing on the circle of the dial-Come, brave Bois-Guilbert-come, thou hope of our holy Order, and soon to be its head."

As he spoke in this soothing tone, he laid his hand on the Knight's bridle, as if to lead him back to his

station...

"False villain! what meanest thou by thy hand on my rein?" said Sir Brian angrily. And shaking off his companion's grasp, he rode back to the upper end of the lists.

"There is yet spirit in him," said Malvoisin apart to Mont-Fitchet, "were it well directed-but, like the Greek fire, it burns whatever approaches it."

The judges had now been two hours in the lists, awaiting in vain the appearance of a champion.

"And reason good," said Friar Tuck," seeing she is a Jewess-and yet, by mine Order, it is hard that

so young and beautiful a creature should perish without one blow being struck in her behalf. Were she ten times a witch, providing she were but the least bit of a Christian, my quarter-staff should ring noon on the steel cap of yonder fierce Templar, ere he carried the matter off thus.”

It was, however, the general belief, that no one could or would appear for a Jewess accused of sor. cery; and the knights, instigated by Malvoisin, whispered to each other, that it was time to declare the pledge of Rebecca forfeited. At this instant a knight, urging his horse to speed, appeared on the plain, advancing towards the lists. A hundred voices exclaimed, "A champion! a champion!" and, despite the prepossession and prejudices of the multitude, they shouted unanimously as the knight rode into the tilt-yard. The second glance, however, served to destroy the hope that his timely arrival had excited. His horse, urged for many miles to its utmost speed, appeared to reel from fatigue; and the rider, however undauntedly he presented himself in the lists, either from weakness, weariness, or both seemed scarce able to support himself in the saddle.

To the summons of the herald, who demanded his rank, his name, and purpose, the stanger knight answered readily and boldly, "I am a good knight and noble, come hither to sustain with lance and sword the just and lawful quarrel of this damsel, Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York; to uphold the doom pronounced against her to be false and truthless; and to defy Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as a traitor, murtherer, and liar; as I will prove in this field with my body against his, by the aid of God, of Our Lady, and of Monseigneur Saint George, the good knight." "The stranger must first show," said Malvoisin, "that he is a good knight, and of honourable lineage. The Temple sendeth not forth her champions against nameless men."

"My name," said the knight, raising his helmet,

" is better known, my lineage more pure, Malvoisin, than thine own. I am Wilfred of Ivanhoe.”

"I will not fight with thee," said the Templar, in a changed and hollow voice. "Get thy wounds healed, purvey thee a better horse, and it may be I will hold it worth my while to scourge out of thee this boyish spirit of bravade."

"Ha! proud Templar," said Ivanhoe," hast thou forgotten that twice didst thou fall before this lance? Remember the lists at Acre-remember the Passage of Arms at Ashby-remember thy proud vaunt in the halls of Rotherwood, and the gage of your gold chain against my reliquary, that thou wouldst do battle with Wilfred of Ivanhoe, and recover the honour thou hadst lost! By that reliquary, and the holy relic it contains, I will proclaim thee, Templar, a coward in every court in Europe-in every Preceptory of thine Order-unless thou do battle without farther. delay."

Bois-Guilbert turned his countenance irresolutely towards Rebecca, and then exclaimed, looking fiercely at Ivanhoe, "Dog of a Saxon! take thy lance, and prepare for the death thou hast drawn upon thee!" "Does the Grand Master allow me the combat?" said Ivanhoe.

"I may not deny what you have challenged," said the Grand Master, "providing the maiden accepts thee as her champion. Yet I would thou wert in better plight to do battle. An enemy of our Order hast thou ever been, yet would I have thee honourably met with."

"Thus thus as I am, and not otherwise," said Ivanhoe; "it is the judgment of God-to his keeping I commend myself.-Rebecca," said he, riding up to the fatal chair, "doest thou accept of me for thy champion?"

"I do," she said-" I do," fluttered by an emotion which the fear of death had been unable to produce; "I do accept thee as the champion whom Heaven

hath sent me. Yet, no- -no-thy wounds are uncured--Meet not that proud man-why shouldst thou perish also?"

But Ivanhoe was already at his post, and had closed his visor, and assumed his lance. Bois-Guilbert did the same; and his esquire remarked, as he clasped his visor, that his face, which had, notwithstanding the variety of emotions by which he had been,agitated, continued, during the whole morning of an ashy paleness, was now become suddenly very much flushed.

The herald, then, seeing each champion in his place, uplifted his voice, repeating thrice--Faites vos devoirs, pruex chevaliers. After the third cry, he withdrew to one side of the lists, and again proclaimed, that none, on peril of instant death, should dare by word, cry, or action, to interfere with or disturb this fair field of combat. The Grand Master, who held in his hand the gage of battle, Rebecca's glove, now threw it into the lists, and pronounced the fatal signal words, Laissez aller.

The trumpets sounded, and the knights charged each other in full career. The wearied horse of Ivanhoe, and its no less exhausted rider, went down, as all had expected, before the well aimed lance and vigorous steed of the Templar. This issue of the combat all had expected; but although the spear of Ivanhoe did but, in comparison, touch the shield of Bois-Guilbert, that champion, to the astonishment of all who beheld it, reeled in his saddle, lost his stirrups, and fell in the lists.

Ivanhoe, extricating himself from his fallen horse, was soon on foot, hastening to mend his fortune with his sword; but his antagonist arose not. Wilfred, placing his foot on his breast, and the sword's point to his throat, commanded him to yield him, or die on the spot. Bois-Guilbert returned no answer.

"Slay him not, Sir Knight," cried the Grand Master, "unshriven, and unabsolved-kill not body and soul. We allow him vanquished."