human likelihood, that she could ever regain it again. Regain it she did, and by the Archbishop's means :-but it cost him his life.

Archbishop Becket had no sooner taken the fatal oath, and seen the clamour of joy with which his compliance was received, and the engrossment of the sixteen Erastian Constitutions, whereby the jurisdiction of spiritual courts was limited, appeals to Rome forbidden, and excommunications restrained from being pronounced, without the consent of the King, than his heart smote him. In deep and bitter penitence he passed the following night; and he occupied himself with planning the means of extrication from his difficulties. That he would at all events, and at whatever cost, win back again the jewel of the Church's freedom, it cost his undaunted spirit little time to determine. But he felt that he had wilfully left the vantage-ground he held the constitution might before-time seem to favour his claim; it was now decidedly opposed to him plead canons and counsels as he might, he was liable to be met by a countercharge of perjury; and how could he exhort others to confidence, when himself had given the example of despair? The first thing to be done was, by severe acts of mortification and discipline, to give public proof of grief for the error of which he had been guilty: he abstained from offering Mass for forty days; and by confessing his crime in taking the oath, shewed also his determination not to be bound by it; since an

oath involving sin cannot be binding,―otherwise were Herod justified in the Martyrdom of S. John Baptist. But not satisfied with this, he despatched a secret messenger to the Pope, containing an account of the whole matter, and beseeching absolution for the oath; and he received a bull, not only absolving him from its necessity, but enjoining him to return to the duties of a Prelate. Now, however men may condemn the absolutions of this nature received from Rome, (and, alas! in many instances too justly,) none can deny that Becket was perfectly, by the very nature of things, released from the obligation of the Clarendon oath. Doubtless, the fact of his having taken it lowers the glory of his Martyrdom; but perhaps it enabled him to display a perseverance against difficulties, an indomitable resolution in well doing—a master mind, relying on GOD, and bending all its vast resources to fulfil His will,—such as the world can hardly furnish an instance to match.

Before we proceed to the commencement of the struggle, we must notice a few circumstances connected with the other characters of our tale.

Agnes de Tracy had scarcely been settled in the Benedictine nunnery of S. Mary at Canterbury, before she received a letter from Ranulph de Broc, filled with the warmest expressions of affection for herself, but setting forth, that in obedience to what he knew to be his deceased father's will, he had taken the Cross, and proposed to sail for the Holy Land; urging her, however, by all the respect she entertained for

his father's memory, by her love for himself, by the remembrance of the happy hours they had spent together, and by the binding character, in the sight both of GOD and man, of their contract, to remain stedfast to him. Agnes, though she might sorrow at, could not but admire, and love him for, his resolution; and together with a glove, which he should wear in his bassinet, returned him such an answer as made the heart of the young and gallant knight leap for joy.

It chanced that shortly afterwards Archbishop Becket visited Canterbury; and happening to be in need of a private secretary, the Sub-prior Warel was recommended to him by his friend Abbat Odo; and right gladly did the young monk enter on a sphere of action which brought him into daily contact with one whom he already half idolized. And the affection soon became mutual; for Becket, finding in his secretary a disposition congenial to his own, soon. made him his confidential friend and adviser.

It will, however, be better to allow our characters to speak for themselves. It was on Tuesday. the 23rd of October, 1164, that two persons were sitting together in the principal room of the convent of S. Giles, at Northampton. Before them was

a massy oaken table covered with documents of various kinds; and in the chimney corner, supported by silver fire-dogs, carved with the monogram (HC, some logs were burning brightly. The elder of the two wore alb and stole; the younger was vested as a Benedictine monk. The face of the former was

one of those which haunt the beholder by day and by night, long after they have passed away. It expressed the firmest degree of resolve; the somewhat aquiline nose, chiselled mouth, and piercing grey eye could be interpreted in no other manner. Yet there was a contraction of the lofty forehead, which plainly shewed that strong and varying emotions were at work in the heart; yet, mixed with all the dignity of the countenance, there was kindness and affability, and with all its conflicting feelings, the tokens of a deep inward peace. The countenance of the other expressed an eager and anxious kind of hopefulness, not altogether free from disquietude and impatience.

"We are glad," said the Archbishop, (for he was the elder of the two,) "we are glad, son Warel, that thou art come at last; and thou hast done well that thou art so speedily here. Never, since first GOD called us to this weighty office which we imperfectly administer, have we been so pressed in spirit, so beset by fightings without, and fears within, so troubled with strong enemies, and ill assisted by weak friends, as these six last days, since our arrival in Northampton."

"And yet," observed Warel, "few have had more experience of those trials which the prince of the power of this world, and the malice of his servants, work on the true sons of holy Church, than hath your Fatherliness, since the day that the pall was first put about your shoulders."

"True, my son," replied the other, "GOD hath called me, unworthy though I be, to suffer much for His Church, as thou very well knowest. For first of all, when I would have left England, after the council held at Clarendon, the sea suffered us not, but did twice drive us back unto our native land, as obeying the commands of his LORD, Who would not have us to escape the danger, or shrink from the suffering. Then again, the King did summon us before himself, and we refused to appear, as well knowing the snares and dangers which evil men had plotted for us in his court. On this account, as thou also knowest, did he summon this parliament at Northampton, that we might therein be accused of high treason and perjury-crimes which our soul hath ever detested. GOD forbid that we should not prefer His glory and the Church's good before an earthly king's anger; yea, and that we should not rather break through a wicked oath, and that wrung from us by necessity, and for which we have obtained absolution, than add unto its sin-of which we truly and heartily repent us-by keeping it!"

"But what, holy Father," asked Warel, "hath chanced since your Paternity's arrival here? For on my road hither from Canterbury I heard nothing but such idle tales as Fame loveth to disport with."

"We will tell you, my son, as briefly as may be ; for it may much concern you to know. Marvellous great concourse was there hither on S. Etheldreda's day, both of Earls and Barons, Bishops and Ab