THE SANCTUARY. 615 



It was at midnight, the fortieth from his seeking the sanctuary of 

 ihe church, that the young Breton merchant, having passed the cus- 

 tomary period of penance, and having abjured the realm, and vowed 

 to hasten with all convenient speed on shipboard, received from the 

 priest the farewell benediction, and the symbol which was to protect 

 him until his foot should rest on the deck of his own bark. 



With a large wooden cross in his hand, and attended by a priest, 

 the young man issued from the church-porch. A broad moon was 

 shedding almost the light of day upon the silent town ; and, as his 

 conductor led the way to the eastern gate, beyond which, upon the 

 waters of the German Ocean, his little vessel was riding at anchor, 

 he cast a yearning anxious look at the stone house, and the enclosed 

 garden, which held his heart's treasure her for whom he had thus 

 subjected himself to this degradation. He paused and looked across, 

 with the determination of attempting a parting interview ; but, as he 

 looked again, and saw that his guide had gone steadily forward, and 

 was now considerably in advance, he remembered that his protection 

 lay only upon the high road. After a momentary inward struggle, 

 and one farewell glance, he quickened his pace, and presently gained 

 upon his conductor. Being arrived at the east gate, the priest, com- 

 manding the watchman to allow the penitent to pass, bestowed a be- 

 nediction and an injunction, and turned to retrace his steps. Henri, 

 having bent his head to the ecclesiastic, passed through the gates, 

 which were hastily closed after him. 



Grasping firmly the cross, he went on silent and solitary, until an 

 abrupt turning in the road brought the sound of the splashing waves 

 like the welcome voice of a friend, distinctly to his ear. At this 

 moment, when his heart beat high with a feeling of security, he 

 heard, or fancied he heard, the whisper of a human voice. He 

 stopped, and looked around. On one side was a high straggling 

 hedge on the other an old ash tree ; and some clustering underwood 

 was thrown partly in the shadow by the sharp projection of an 

 overhanging crag. As his eye rested upon the ill-defined space be- 

 neath the crag, a figure enveloped in a cloak, and wearing a broad- 

 brimmed slouching hat, moved from beneath the ash. 



A suspicion of treachery crossed Henri's mind. He clasped his 

 only protective weapon closer to his breast, and was moving rapidly 

 away, when a scarcely murmured " Henri !" fell on his ear. He 

 turned, and flinging down the cross, caught the trembling, loving 

 Mary to his bosom. 



" My sweetest love !" and " I was afraid even you would condemn 

 me !". were the only words distinguishable, ere regardless of life or 

 limb, a man jumped from the crag above, and, with a giant -grasp, 

 seized Henri, and dragging him from the terrified maiden, they 

 struggled and strove until they both rolled in the dust. At the same 

 instant a shrill whistle, and a snapping asunder of the twigs of the 

 opposite hedge, told Mary that her lover was now indeed betrayed, 

 and under this conviction she fled towards the harbour. 



" Felon ! craven !" thundered Halton, as the ruffians had over- 

 powered Henri ; " I could, with a good stomach, stab you to the 



