LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 165 



Morning broke, and, harassed by alarms, they sunk to sleep 

 at last. But their slumbers were rudely broken a gray-haired 

 monk roused them hastily horror was in his looks, and with 

 difficulty he staggered to a seat. Gradually he collected 

 strength to tell his fearful errand the young and lovely 

 devotee lay in the mountain glen, before St. Catharine's 

 cross, a murdered corpse. 



The tidings of this desperate deed flew through the country 

 rapidly. The body was carried to the herdsman's cabin. For 

 many hours life had been extinct, and the distorted counte- 

 nance of the hapless youth bespoke the mortal agony which 

 had accompanied the spirit's flight. One deep wound was in 

 his side, inflicted evidently by a triangular weapon ; and the 

 brilliant cross and purse of gold were gone. 



The women from the adjacent villages assembled to pay the 

 last rites to the remains of the murdered Pilgrim. Prepara- 

 tory to being laid out, the clothes were gently removed from 

 the body, when a cry of horror burst from all the Pilgrim 

 was a woman ! Bound by a violet ribbon, a bridal ring rested 

 beside her heart ; and, from unequivocal appearances, it was 

 too evident that the fell assassin had committed a double 

 murder. 



The obsequies of the unhappy lady were piously performed ; 

 the mountain girls decked her grave with flowers ; and old 

 and young, for many a mile around, offered prayers for the 

 soul of the departed. The murder was involved in mystery 

 the peasants had their own suspicions, but fear caused them 

 to be silent. 



A year passed the garland upon the stranger's grave was 

 carefully renewed the village maidens shed many a tear as 

 they told her melancholy story ; and none passed the turf 

 which covered the murdered beauty, without repeating a 

 prayer for her soul's repose. 



Another passed and the third anniversary of the Pilgrim's 

 death arrived. Late on that eventful evening, a tall and 

 noble-looking stranger entered the herdsman's cottage. His 

 air was lofty and commanding ; and though he wore a palmer's 

 cloak, the jewelled pommel of his rapier glanced from be- 

 neath the garment, and betrayed his knightly dignity. The 

 beauty of his manly countenance forcibly recalled to the pea- 

 sants the memory of the ill-starred stranger. But their 



