But the wager of battle is complete, even according to the fantastic fashions of Norman chivalry--Is it not, Father Aymer ?" "It is," replied the Prior; "and the blessed relic and rich chain will I bestow safely in the treasury of our convent, until the decision of this warlike challenge." Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and again, and after many genuflections and muttered prayers, he delivered the reliquary to Brother Ambrose, his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with less ceremony, but perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, the golden chain, and bestowed it in a pouch lined with perfumed leather, which opened under his arm.

"And now, Sir Cedric," he said, "my ears are chiming vespers with the strength of your good wine--permit us another pledge to the welfare of the Lady Rowena, and indulge us with liberty to pass to our repose." "By the rood of Bromholme," said the Saxon, "you do but small credit to your fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hear the matin chime ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared to have shame in encountering you.

But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve, in my time, would not so soon have relinquished his goblet." The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the course of temperance which he had adopted.

He was not only a professional peacemaker, but from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls.

It was not altogether from a love to his neighbour, or to himself, or from a mixture of both.