order. Retire," he added, waving his hand, and pointing to the officers to lead him away.

Father John raised his eyes as Sudbury repeated the threat of degradation. He had expected censure; but he was not prepared for this extremity of punishment; and the wounded feelings of a high spirit spoke in the silent glance he cast upon the abbot, as he turned proudly away, and followed his conductors to the cell.

In eight days he was again brought before Sudbury; but solitude had effected no change in his sentiments. Three days more were granted, and on the fourth, all the members of the community were assembled, and the monk was led from his cell to the chapel. There, in the presence of the brethren, he was once more asked whether he would publicly confess his fault in administering a sacrament to an excommunicated man, and profess his desire to perform public penance for the scandal he had given; and when he made no reply, he was asked if he would disclose the place of concealment of the bondman Holgrave. To this, also, no reply was given; and finally he was promised, that if he knew aught of the stolen child of the Lord de Boteler, and would unreservedly declare all he knew if he had not actually assisted in the abduction - all his past errors should be forgiven, in consideration of this act of justice. But Father John knew, that although by a disclosure he might avert his own fate, yet he would assuredly draw down inevitable ruin on Holgrave, and that the hopes he had himself cherished for the reader cannot be ignorant that it was he who was the author of the mysterious document -- would utterly fall to the ground; and with that noble-mindedness, that would rather sacrifice self than betray the confidence of another, he still refused to answer.

Sudbury scarcely expected such firmness; and there was a minute or two of breathless excitement and profound silence through the chapel, as the abbot ordered two brothers to approach the obdurate monk, and strip off the habit he had rendered himself unworthy longer to wear.

Father John's lips grew pale and quivered; and there was a slight tremor perceptible through his whole frame, as the monks reluctantly proceeded to obey the command of their superior. His eyes were fixed upon the ground; he dared not raise them, for the chequers of the pavement seemed indistinct and trembling; and yet for twelve days he had been preparing himself to meet this catastrophe with firmness. The outer garments were removed; their place was supplied by a coarse woollen jerkin and cloak, and then the monk, for a moment resuming the energy that was more natural to his character than the subdued spirit he had as yet evinced, stood forth from the brothers who had been the unwilling instruments in the act of degradation, and fixing his eyes upon the abbot, who stood upon the topmost step of the altar, with his face turned towards the brotherhood, said in a tone that filled the whole chapel-"My lord abbot, I shall appeal against this severity. It is not because I administered a sacrament to a sinner that I am thus degraded it is because the Lord de Boteler desires to humble me- - because he foolishly imagines, that a spirit conscious of its own strength would bend beneath injustice and oppression, that I am thus dealt with. But remember, my lord, that 'with what measure you mete to others, the same shall be meted to you again."" So saying, without waiting for the ceremony of being driven from the gates, he turned and with a quick step left the abbey.

But here his firmness again forsook him; he had stepped from his home - from the quiet seclusion that was endeared to him by years of residence and holy recollections, into a strange world, to struggle and contend-to sin, and be sinned against; and he leaned against the abbey wall with such a feeling of desolation as a child may be supposed to feel, as he bends over the grave of his last surviving parent. A few bitter drops of wounded

pride, and deep regret, forced their way down his cheeks, and it was not until he became conscious that a group of persons of different ages and sexes were silently and sympathizingly gazing upon him, that it occurred to him he ought to remove to a less conspicuous situation.

CHAPTER III.

DE BOTELER and his lady had left Sudley to be present at some festival in London, the day previous to that on which Father John was degraded; but, from the firmness he had hitherto shown, the result was anticipated, and Calverley had received orders to arrest the monk on his being dismissed the abbey, and to confine him in the castle, until the baron's return.

The degraded priest proceeded slowly amidst the sympathizing crowd that attended his steps. Several times he stopped, with the intention of requesting the people to return home and leave him to pursue his journey as he might, but he could not collect that firmness of demeanour which had been wont to distinguish him; and ashamed further to betray his weakness, he each time passed on without uttering a word. They had cleared the town, and were crossing the bridge on the left, over the Isborne, when Calverley, and about half-a-dozen retainers well mounted, darted from the bridge into the high road. Four of the men, springing from their horses, surrounded the monk, and were about placing him on the back of one of the steeds, when the faculties, which had been for the moment chained by astonishment and indignation, burst forth with unexpected energy, and, with a form expanded to its full height, and an eye flashing fire, he shook off their rude grasp, and stepping back, demanded by what authority he was thus molested.

"By the authority of the Baron de Boteler," replied Calverley, as the monk fixed his eyes sternly upon him.

"It is false!" he replied, "no human law have I violated, and to no man's capricious tyranny will I submit."

"It becomes the bondman to speak thus of his lord," said Calverley with

a sneer.

"I am not a bondman nor is the Baron de Boteler my lord," said Father John, in a deep, collected voice. "Ó, I crave your pardon, good father," returned Calverley, smiling; "I mistook you for one John Ball, the son of a bondman of this barony."

"My name is John Ball, and I have been the son of a bondman, insulting craven," replied the father, indignantly; -- "but I owe the Baron de Boteler no allegiance-you well know that the priest can be servant to none save he who created the bond and the free."

"And this is the habit of some new order, that is to be honoured by being adopted by the unpriestly son of a bondman!” said Calverley, pointing, in derision, at the coarse woollen dress of the monk. Something burst from the lips of the latter, but it was lost in Calverley's sudden command to seize him. The men again approached, but the first who caught the monk's arm fell to the ground, stunned and bleeding.

Another succeeded, and met the same fate-then another, and another; but at length, overpowered by numbers, the gallant priest was bound, and placed before one of the retainers on horseback.

There was now a simultaneous rush made to the bridge by the crowd, who stood watching the horsemen till they entered the castle; when they formed into groups, wondering at what they had just beheld at what might be the fate of the monk, and at their own supineness in suffering

half-a-dozen men, even though armed and mounted, to carry him off with out a blow.

That evening, Wat Turner, who had been liberated from the keep, after a short confinement, was leaning on his folded arms, which rested for support on the sill of the aperture in his shed, that served the purpose of a window. The forge fire had died away; the servitor and the journeyman had been dismissed; but Wat still lingered, as if he could there indulge his reflections more freely than in his own house. His eyes were bent on the ground, and so far was he lost in some waking dream, that, until his name was repeated in rather a loud tone, he was not conscious of any one's approach.

"Ah, Tom Merritt!" said the smith, raising his head and recognising in the dusk a stout active young man, a mason, who resided at Winchcombe.

"Have you heard the news, Wat?" asked the mason.

"No-I have enough to think of, without troubling my head about

news!"

66

Aye, aye, true

but did n't you hear of Father John ?"

Yes, I heard they dealt badly enough with him, because he would not betray poor Stephen-and for giving the sacrament to that unfortunate scape-grace. They told me he was to be turned from the abbey to-day, so I sent Dick with a few groats to help him on a little- but I don't know yet, whether the lad is come back, for I have not seen him."

"O, he is among the group that stands looking at the castle walls, I dare say," ," said Merritt. "Did you not hear he was thrown into prison ?" "What! my Dick,” asked the smith, eagerly, starting up from his posture at the window, and his listless countenance suddenly becoming animated.

"No, no, not the boy," replied Merritt, rather impatiently.

"Oh," said the smith, again sinking upon the window frame; and then, as if perfectly comprehending what had been said, he added, as a bitter smile passed across his lips, "In prison did you say? What had he done that he should be caged? Refused to say where Stephen is hid?" "Maybe so; but I can only tell you this- that when the poor monk was turned out of the abbey, Calverley seized upon him like a dog, or a thief."

"Calverley, the fiend!" interrupted the smith, fiercely. "If I could only give that beggar's vagabond a sample of what this hand could do, I think I should take a good night's rest- and that's what I have not done since the night they gave me a lodging in the castle dungeon; and you say that Calverley has put him in prison? Now, I tell you what, Tom Merritt,” continued Turner, "if there be a drop of man's blood in your body, they shan't keep him there."

"Will you help?" asked the young mason, eagerly.

"Will I help, man! Aye, that I will, with a good stomach Why, if they shut up a dog that I cared for within those four stone walls, I would help him out! But that monk is a holy man and they think to frighten him as they thought to frighten me. Tom," added Turner, leaning through the aperture, and laying his hand upon the young man's shoulder, “I have never held up my head like a man since that night. To be set upon like a fox! To be dragged and hauled, and thrown into a prison-Tom! (grasping the arm of the other with a force that made him shrink) when I think of this in the day when I am at work, I throw down the hammer, for my blood boils, and I could not strike a sure blow for hours after, if a king's ransom was offered me. But, by St. Nicholas! 't is little work that Wat Turner has done ever since all has gone wrong-but I shall soon leave the parish altogether -- and then, maybe, things will go on better. For

here, if a man looks at me, it seems as if he would say, 'Turner, you have been in jail!' Tom Merritt, never boast or brag of anything!"

"Indeed, master Turner, I have as little as any man to brag of; for -if-it had n't been for the watching and the advice of poor Father John, my old mother might have been this day hanging her head with shame, instead of looking up as bold as any of them, and saying, 'my son,' or 'my Tom,' as well as the best."

"That's all very well; but, Tom, as I just said, never boast. I used to brag that there never was a woman dishonest, nor a man a rogue, in my family; and that none of the name of Turner ever had a key turned upon him. And you see what it's come to."

"Aye, aye, master Turner," replied Merritt (impatient of a long speech, yet knowing the smith's irascible temper too well to interrupt him), I don't know what will come next? Here were you, who paid scot and lot, and cared for no one- see how you were treated! And now here is the holy father (with whom, though he got into disgrace at the abbey, one would have thought, for the sake of their own souls, they would n't meddle), dragged off like a common thief; and if we do not go to the rescue, the saints preserve us! who can tell if he will ever come out again? for there is none but poor Stephen akin to him."

"Enough! Tom Merritt, this is no place for an honest man. I was to have gone in a few days, but when this night's job is done, I shall just pack up all I can get together into a cart, and let the black fiend, or his imp Calverley, take the rest. Aye! with my wife, the boy, and Will, I shall be out of Gloucester before sunrise and the sooner the better. But now let us talk of the rescue. How many honest hands can you get among the town's folks?"

"Why," replied Merritt, every mother's soul who could grasp an axe; but I have seen a dozen lads who have sworn to free Father John, or lose their lives. And knowing that you would give a helping hand, I told them so, though without your leave. We have provided paint for our faces. The retainers in the castle are few; and while myself and the men keep guard over them, you, as a smith, know best how to manage the lock of the keep."

"Give me your hand, for a brave fellow," answered Turner, grasping cordially the conceded member. "There are yet a few bold spirits in this manor. I shall seek them, and I'll warrant they will not leave Wat Turner in the lurch for this bout at least. And as for the lock, the foul fiend himself could not scheme or forge a spring that could keep me out for five minutes. Have your friends together in the field at the back of the town. The nights are dark now; and when I hear the clock strike eight, I shall be with you with all the hands I can gather."

Merritt presently departed; and at eight the two confederates again met. Soon a compact and resolute body of more than twenty men slowly and cautiously proceeded to the castle, and, in double file, ensconced themselves close to the walls, and so contiguous to the gate of usual egress as to be ready to rush in at the first opening. They had stood thus, scarcely drawing breath, for about half an hour; and Merritt, who, with the smith, was at the head of the little band, was about to propose that they should attempt to force an entrance, when the gate opened, and John Byles, who had been engaged upon some business with Calverley, unsuspectingly issued forth.

The smith caught him in his iron grasp ere he closed the gate, and, placing his broad hand over his mouth, held him till a bandage could be properly fastened; then flinging him on the ground, secured him hand and foot, bound him to a tree a few steps distant, and, with the two men whe had assisted, rushed after Merritt and the others, who were by this time in the court-yard.

No sound escaped them, and it was only the quick footsteps on the pavement that attracted attention. But ere the alarm was given, the intruders had reached the keep. The smith, with astonishing celerity, picked the huge lock of the lower dungeon, in which, by virtue of former experience, he imagined the father was confined; and beheld, by a torch, which they had now lighted, what fired even the most sluggish soul among them. The monk lay stretched on the ground, nearly divested of covering, with his arms and legs drawn by cords attached to iron rings in the four corners of the cell, and with iron weights pressing upon his chest.

"By St. Nicholas !" said the smith, as he stooped to remove the pressure, while the tears started to his eyes, "this is too bad. 'Tis enough to make a heathen sick to see a Christian man served in this manner. Here, Father John, (assisting him to rise,) take my jerkin, and wrap this about you, (snatching a cloak from the shoulders of one of the men.) And now, good father, tell me who did this?"

But the exhausting punishment he had endured for above four hours, together with the cold that penetrated his whole frame, from lying so long exposed on the damp earth, so much impeded his speech, that he could not utter an intelligible word.

"And thus they could serve the Lord's anointed!" said Turner, compassionately, as he looked on the livid and swollen face and trembling limbs of him, whom he had ever, till now, seen with the beauty of holiness giving dignity to his fine countenance, and with the vigour of manhood exhibited in every motion of his muscular form. "Hark!" added the smith, starting"there is a scuffle outside! Tom Merritt will have enough of them." For an instant he paused, and then, snatching up one of the cords that had tied the monk, he severed it with his axe from the ring in the wall, and passing one end round the monk's arms, fastened the other round his own waist. "Now you will have no trouble in holding by me- keep close. Here, father, could you not hold this? it might keep off some scurvy knave," drawing a sharp wood-knife from his belt, and placing it in the monk's tremulous hand. Turner then ordering the few who were with him to cover the retreat, to keep compact as they followed, and to strike at all within reach, with a keen-edged battle-axe in his right hand, and a formidable club, pointed with steel and firmly bound with iron, in his left, he hurried from the dungeon.

Turner had not been above five minutes in releasing the monk; but, when he came to the entrance of the keep, Merritt and the remainder of the band were sharply engaged with the domestics and the few tenants whe kept guard about the castle. The smith pushed on with the monk; passed Merritt and the others, who closed in his rear; and, with that boldness, which often effects what more prudent courage would fail to accomplish, rushed into the midst of the assailants, brandishing his weapons, and shouting defiance at the top of his stentorian lungs.

"Stand aside, ye graceless carles! Shame to ye, cursed cravens, to serve a Christian priest like an infidel! Stand back, or by St. Nicholas ! you will never die on your beds!" dealing sturdy blows as he spoke, and pressing forward to a postern beside the principal gate, which was not many paces from the keep.

"Tis the sunith!-'tis Wat Turner," shouted a dozen voices.

"Aye, it is Wat Turner," swinging round his club, and levelling a couple of those who were nearest; "and tell the doomed Calverley, if ever Wat Turner sets eyes upon him, we shall not part so easily as I now do from you!"

The weapons wielded by the powerful arm of the smith were not such as those who had little interest in the detention of the monk would care to encounter. The attacks of the castle people relaxed, the energy of the