THE LEGEND OF KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. 199 



" No ! " replied the Pedler, with a cool smile ; " I 

 was beside the owner of this cross when his last sigh 

 was breathed ! " 



Like lightning the stranger's sword flashed from its 

 scabbard. 



" Murderer ! " he shouted, in a voice of thunder, 

 " for three years have I wandered about the habitable 

 earth, and my sole object in living was to find thy caitiff 

 self ; a world would not purchase thee one moment's 

 respite ! " and before the wretch could more than 

 clutch his weapon, the knight's sword passed through 

 his heart the hilt struck upon the breast-bone, and 

 the Red Pedler did not carry his life to the floor. 



The stranger for a moment gazed upon the breathless 

 body, and having with the dead man's cloak removed 

 the blood from his blade, replaced it coolly in the sheath. 

 The Pedler's purse he flung scornfully to the peasant, 

 but the cross he took up, looked at it with fixed attention, 

 and the herdsman's wife remarked that more than one 

 tear fell upon the relic. 



Just then the gray-haired Monk stood before him ; 

 he had left his convent to offer up the mass, which he 

 did on every anniversary of the pilgrim's murder. 

 He started back with horror as he viewed the bleeding 

 corpse ; while the knight, having secured the cross 

 within his bosom, resumed his former cold and haughty 

 bearing. 



" Fellow ! " he cried to the trembling peasant, " hence 

 with that carrion. Come hither, Monk why gapest 

 thou thus ? hast thou never seen a corpse ere now ? 

 Approach, I would speak with thee apart " and he 

 strode to the further end of the cottage, followed by the 

 churchman. " I am going to confide to thee what " 



