Rodolf approached the small door leading into the choir,

[Illustration:  COLLEGIATE CHURCH, MANCHESTER.

Drawn by G. Pickering.  Engraved by Edw^d Finden.]

when his vacant eye almost unconsciously alighted on a female form kneeling just within the recess.  A ray, from her patron saint belike, darting through the eastern oriel, came full upon her dark and glowing eye.  She turned towards the stranger, but in a moment her head was bent as lowly as before, and the ray had lost its power.  Rodolf suddenly retreated.  Passing through a side door, he left the church, directing his steps towards the low and dark corridors of the college.  Near the entrance to his chamber, on a narrow bench, sate a well-caparisoned page tuning his lute.  His attire was costly, and his raiment all redolent with the most fragrant perfume.  This youth, when very young, was sent over as the companion, or rather at that time as the playmate of his master.  He was now dignified with the honourable title of page, and his affection for Rodolf was unbounded.

“Boy,” said the cavalier, something moodily, “come into the chamber.  Stay—­fetch me a sack-posset, prythee.  I am oppressed, and weary with my morning’s ramble.”

Now the boy did marvel much at his master’s sudden return, but more especially at the great fatigue consequent on that short interval;—­knowing, too, that a particularly copious and substantial breakfast had anticipated his departure.

“And yet, Altdorff, I am not in a mood for much drink.  Give us a touch of those chords.  I feel sad at times, and vapourish.”

They entered into a well-furnished apartment.  The ceiling was composed of cross-beams curiously wrought.  On one of these was represented a grim head in the act of devouring a child—­which tradition affirmed was the great giant Tarquin at his morning’s repast.  The room was fitted up with cumbrous elegance.  A few pieces of faded tapestry covered one side of the apartment.  In a recess stood a tester bed, ornamented with black velvet, together with curtains of black stuff and a figured coverlet.  A wainscot cupboard displayed its curiously-carved doors, near to which hung two pictures, or tables as they were called, representing the fair Lucretia and Mary Magdalen.  A backgammon-board lay on the window-seat; three shining tall-backed, oaken chairs, with a table of the same well-wrought material, and irons beautifully embossed, and a striped Turkey rug, formed a sumptuous catalogue, when we consider the manner of furnishing that generally prevailed in those days.

The page sat on a corner seat beneath the window.  He struck a few wild chords.

“Not that—­not that, good Altdorff.  It bids one linger too much of home-longings.”

Here the boy’s eyes glistened, and a tremulous motion of the lip showed how his heart bounded at the word.

“Prythee, give us the song thou wast conning yesterday.”