gundy. The duke, on hearing the archbishop's detail, gave immediate, but private, orders that some chosen companies should be held in readiness, and requested Raymond, the wise Count of Antioch, to accompany the archbishop with a troop of his followers.

Mowbray and Jocelyn were sitting near the palisades of the English enclosure, the hour of midnight was fast approaching, and as yet they had discovered no sign of alarm. A sentinel came past, and Mowbray asked if all was well. The sentinel replied that he had seen nothing but a dog of unusual size, and rather strange bearing, that had once or twice approached his post. Mowbray was about to dismiss the man, when Jocelyn, struck by the circumstance, asked minutely respecting the path taken by the dog, his appearance, and the spot in which he had been seen most frequently. The answers to these queries roused the suspicions of Mowbray he proposed that they should go and watch the animal themselves. Jocelyn consented, and taking with them two archers, they followed the sentinel to the spot where he had last seen the dog, which was near the entrance of the enclosure. While waiting for his re-appearance the moon began to rise from behind a distant hill, and as it gradually ascended they saw its beams mingle with the light of a fire suddenly kindled on the peak. Mowbray and Jocelyn turned their eyes from the path to observe this phenomenon, at the same moment the sentinel called out, "The dog!" and ere they could turn again he had disappeared. Another moment and he was seen to make a strange leap across the path, and Jocelyn, turning to one of the archers, said, "A shaft when he next appears.' The archer held his bow ready, and when the dog was soon seen creeping up the narrow pathway, pinned him to the earth with an arrow. Before, however, they could examine the body, the shouts of "Allah Acbar!" were heard in the centre of the Christian camp, and a barbarous horde, that seemed to have sprung from the earth, rushed against the English lines. The precautions that had been taken in some

measure diminished the danger, but still the assailants were able to force part of the enclosure, and the burning of several tents threw a new and hor rid light on the scene. This had been the work of a few moments, but when the reserve guards of the English moved up, the progress of the enemy was checked. The horned bonnets of the assailants, visible by the moon's pale light, and by the conflagration of the camp, showed that they belonged to the abominable race of the Batheniens, a wound from whose poisoned weapons was mortal. The men-atarms gave back before such fearful foes; Jocelyn and Mowbray encouraged them in vain; but at the moment that they were about to give way, Richard's voice was heard, and with renewed courage the English and Angevins closed upon their foes. The whole camp was now alarmed, and the assassins, dreading to be surrounded by all the Christian forces, began to retire. The prowess of Richard soon turned their retreat into a flight; and Jocelyn was hurrying on in the pursuit, when the voice of the spirit was heard within, "Rescue the Lady Emmeline."

Taking with him four or five of the soldiers who were nearest him, he rushed toward the tents of Count Arnold, and as he approached, the shrieks of females gave the speed of lightning to his steps. Springing into the front of the enclosure, he saw the Lady Emmeline clinging to the aged Archbishop of Tyre, while two Batheniens attempted to force her away; and near her he beheld Count Raymond, sinking on his knees before a Bathenien leader, who had his arm raised to give the deadly blow. The shout of Jocelyn astounded the Batheniens; one that held the Lady Emmeline fell beneath his sword; but the Bathenien chief, striking a random blow at the falling Raymond, rushed towards Jocelyn, and hurled him in an instant to the earth. At the same moment he bethought him of his mother's spell, and as he completed the mystic words, the voice of Ayubi spoke courage to his soul, and he found new strength in his limbs. He sprung to his feet, and grappled with the Bathe

nien chief. Surprised at his recovery, the assassin staggered, his horned bonnet fell off, and a blow from Jocelyn's sword struck off his gorget and laid bare his left arm.

"Ilderim!". exclaimed the archbishop.

“Arnold!” said the exhausted Ray

mond.

'My father!" cried the shuddering Emmeline, and fainted.

The apostate rushed desperately on Jocelyn, but as they closed in fight, a voice exclaimed-"The hour of our potency is passed; thou must away or perish." He sprung aside, and made an effort to grasp the inanimate form of Emmeline, but only seized her robe. Jocelyn threw himself towards the body of his lady-love, and at the same moment spoke the spell almost aloud. Arnold caught the sound, and spoke his own words of power-a crash of thunder, and a vivid flash, astounded and dazzled those around, and when they recovered Arnold was gone, bearing with him the fragment of Emmeline's robe that he had grasped.

Soldiers with torches soon came up, and the archbishop, whose robe the lady still held in her unconscious grasp, stooped to raise her from the ground. In doing so, his eye fell suddenly on the mark of a lion grasp ing a standard, which had been artificially stained on her breast. The effect that this sight produced on him astounded the spectators: he let her fall from his hands, and throwing himself on the body, addressed her by every endearing name that affection could suggest.

When consciousness returned to Emmeline she found herself supported by Jocelyn and the archbishop; both addressing her in terms of fondness, but each seemingly unconscious of the other's presence. Raymond, though weak and wounded, saw that an end should be put to this strange scene, and directed that the lady should be borne to the archbishop's tent, and, at the same time, he roused Jocelyn to a sense of the duties which he had still to perform.

The rest of the night was spent in great anxiety, but the examination

instituted in the morning revealed the circumstances of Arnold's treachery. He had led the Batheniens through the western gate to the vacant space round the English enclosure, at one side of which his own tents stood. One of the assassins, covered with the skin of a dog, was to approach the entrance of the English camp, and murder the unwary sentinel. Richard and his chief nobles were to be slain; and Jocelyn to be conveyed a prisoner to the Bathenien caves, and compelled to lose the protection given by the maternal spell, by swearing homage to the powers of evil.

King Richard summoned the Christian council early in the day. Count Raymond and the Archbishop of Tyre alone were absent. The former, however, soon arrived, and excused the absence of the latter by declaring that he had found a daughter. All stared with astonishment, and the King of England, bursting into a loud laugh, exclaimed, "An archbishop's daughter, my lords!"

But ere he could say more Raymond interrupted him

"The holy archbishop was once a warrior, and the best that his elder brother, the Count of Edessa, held in his dominions. When the forces of Ilderim threatened to destroy the principality, he quitted his young wife and infant child to summon the chivalry of Antioch to aid in the defence of Edessa; before his return, the forces of the Courtenays had been defeated, the city taken, his family either slain or captive. Still he raised a few soldiers, and endeavoured to make head against Ilderim. A battle was fought, in which he met the formidable chief hand to hand; but young Courtenay fell under the falchion of the Bathenien, and was left for dead on the plain. When he recovered a little he found himself lying, covered with wounds, exposed to the fierce glare of a Syrian sun, and vowed that if his life was spared the remainder of it should be dedicated to the service of his Creator. He was found there by a pious hermit, who kept him in a mountain cell until he had recovered. Thence he went to Rome, and was admitted to holy orders by

the pope himself; the abilities he displayed ensured his promotion, and, at length, he obtained the archiepiscopal see of Tyre. Before his departure from Edessa he had impressed the cognizance of his branch of the Courtenays on the breast of his daughter; this mark he observed last night on the Lady Emmeline, and additional inquiries among the old servants of the renegade Arnold have supplied sufficient proof that she is his longlost child."

Our story is about to pass over an interval of twelve months; during which period Jocelyn had been honoured with the order of knighthood, and rewarded with the hand of the Lady Emmeline. The accounts received of the fortunes of Arnold were vague and unsatisfactory. He was known to have sought refuge in the court of a Georgian prince, and to have been driven from thence by the unconquerable and unaccountable aversion of the princess. It was added, that he had revenged himself by leading an army of Batheniens into the territories of the Georgian chief, whom he had driven from his throne.

The week before the crusaders made their final attempt to march upon Jerusalem, Jocelyn was summoned to the tent of King Richard. He found there the principal Christian leaders, debating on the means of obtaining a supply of provisions. On the entrance of Jocelyn, the English king said, "This knight, my lords and brothers, may be trusted for both expeditions: he can lead the convoy hither from Ptolemais, and on the road, if we appoint a place of meeting, he will, as a true chevalier, undertake to escort the noble and unfortunate ladies who have sought our protection."

The proposition was heard with unanimous applause, and Jocelyn, having received ample directions, proceeded, with his troop of faithful Angevins, to escort the convoy from Ptolemais.

His orders were that, on his return, he should deviate a little from the direct road, towards the village of Erzouk, and that he should there halt until joined by two Georgian ladies, whom he was to conduct in all honour and safety to the Christian camp.

Nothing remarkable occurred on the journey, but on his return, when near the place where he was to deviate from the ordinary route, he thought that he remarked something suspicious in the conduct of his guide. Glances fraught with meaning were interchanged between him and some of the drivers of the waggons; after which they separated from the convoy on some idle pretext, but soon returned. Jocelyn took an opportunity of visiting the spot which one of them had quitted, and saw on the turf the assassin symbols. They were so brief as to convey little information, but still he conjectured rightly that they menaced an attack on their halting-place for the night. The convoy reached the place of encampment, near Erzouk, early in the evening, and received a message from the unknown ladies that they were concealed in the neighbourhood, and would join him early in the morning. The guide then came, and pretending business in the village, sought leave of absence, which Jocelyn willingly conceded; but no sooner had he departed than Jocelyn seized the waggoners with whom he had marked his connection, and confining them in different tents, subjected each to a separate examination. From the knowledge Jocelyn displayed of the Bathenien symbols, each conspirator supposed that he had been betrayed by his companion, and, to save his life, revealed the circumstances of the plot. For a large bribe three of the drivers had agreed to murder a sentinel, and, taking his place, to give a sign of their success to the Batheniens ambushed in the neighbourhood, by exhibiting, and immediately extinguishing, a lighted torch. Assembling his Angevins, Jocelyn told them, in general terms, of the conspiracy, and declared his intentions to surprise the assassins in turn. At the appointed hour, one of the treacherous drivers exhibited the signal, and the Bathenien troop was seen to approach. "Is all right ?" said the leader; the driver replied in the affirmative. "Forward then," said he; but another interposed, and said, "He bears a charmed life; wait until the moon rises, for then our spirits have power."

Jocelyn heard the words, and knew the voice of Arnold. The moon rose almost immediately, and the Batheniens made for the tents. At this moment the Angevins rushed upon them, and the assassins, completely surprised, fell beneath their swords. "Call on thy friends, Ilderim," shouted the leader. Jocelyn heard the words, and repeated the maternal spell. Arnold uttered his words of power, and Azaziel stood before him. "Now, spirit, for thy promised aid," said the apostate. It is too late," said the demon, "I am held down by superior power; despair and fly." The baffled Batheniens now attempted to make their escape; one of them tumbled just at the feet of Jocelyn, and his bonnet falling off, revealed the features of his treacherous guide. The young knight was about to deal a mortal stroke, when the treacherous wretch grasped his knees, and offered, if his life was spared, to lead him to the secret retreat of Ilderim. Having secured the wretch between two soldiers, our hero continued the pursuit, and gained fast on the assassins.

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Ilderim and his companions rushed towards a stream, rapid, but usually shallow; but when they approached, a willow that grew on the banks fell into the stream, and the water thus dammed up rose at once to a dangerous height. Sign the first!" said a voice in the ear of the startled count. He rushed along the bank of the river, and seeing a cottage, burst open the door. An aged and a youthful female were sitting on the floor. They shrieked at the sight of the assassin's horned bonnet, and the eldest, snatch ing up a knife, prepared to defend her child. The count took off the bonnet: Ilderim, my husband!" cried the aged lady; My father!" shrieked the younger. Sign the second!" responded the demon.

The astounded apostate spoke the words of power almost unconsciously aloud; his daughter repeated the

words. "Sign the third!" said Azaziel, who stood with a scornful smile before him.

The count's sword fell from his hand, and he shrieked out "Oh! was it for this that I gave up the faith of my fathers, and bowed at thy demon altar in Carmel? Was it for this that I trampled upon the symbol of salvation?" The sound of pursuers at the door was heard, and the voice of Jocelyn cried, "Yes, it was for this, apostate! What but evil could the powers of evil bestow?" "Signs fourth and fifth!" said the demon, with a scowl; "and sixth !" he added, as Jocelyn, with two of his followers, rushed into the cottage. "Apostate, murderer, poisoner, wizard!" cried the young hero, "the measure of thy crimes is full the avenger of his mother, foretold by the demon in thy accursed chapel, is come." The sword of retribution descended as he spoke:

Sign the seventh!" was thundered by a terrible voice; "he is ours!" and a mingled echo, like the roaring of the multitudinous waves, repeated "he is ours!"

Here our tale must abruptly end. Jocelyn could only discover that these were the ladies entrusted to his charge, but of their history he could learn nothing. He conducted them to the Christian camp, where he was told that the younger was the dethroned and widowed Princess of Georgia, who was seeking the refuge of a convent for herself and her aged relative.

The dissension between the leaders of the crusade compelled Richard to make peace with Saladin, after which he returned home. Jocelyn remained for some time longer in Palestine with his father-in-law, but on the death of the archbishop came back to Brittany, where he lived long in the enjoyment of fame and happiness. He took the name and title of Courtenay, in right of his wife, and his descendants aver that the elemental spirit Ayubi still watches over the safety of their family.