“We are from the Abbey of Stanlaw, on our way to Kirkstall in the morning.”

“Wherefore abide ye here?  There is lodging and better cheer withal in the castle above.”

“We are under a vow, and rest not save on holy ground:  we crave thy hospitality, therefore, and shelter for the night.”

“Is your errand to Kirkstall hidden, or is it an open embassage?”

“The Lady Fitz-Eustace sendeth greeting by our ministry unto the holy abbot through our superior at Stanlaw, beseeching that he would make diligent inquiry touching the will of Robert de Lacy, once lord of this goodly heritage.  She hath had news of his demise, and likewise another message with an assurance that every of these possessions have been devised to the Fitz-Eustace by his last will and testament.  Yet this writing she has not yet seen, nor knoweth she into whose custody it hath been given.  Apprehending the great favours which the Cistercian house at Kirkstall hath received from the Lacies, and the close intimacy which the abbot once enjoyed, she doth conjecture that, in all likelihood, the testament is in his keeping.”

“Your journey hath need of none other reference, for the will is in my custody.”

“In thine, Sir Ulphilas?”

“How! know ye my name already?” said the hermit sharply, and a fierce glance shot from under his high and pallid brow.

“Holy St Agatha! and has not the fame and sanctity of the Hermit of the Rock gone forth to many lands!  Where the broad Mersey and the silver Dee roll their bright waters, thou art known by thy holiness and thy faith.”

“And how is our good brother Roger, abbot of your monastery at Stanlaw?” inquired the hermit, not deigning to notice their fulsome and flattering epithets.

“Holy Virgin! how knowest thou his name?”

“And hath not the fame of your holy abbot, and the sanctity of your house, reached us even here?” said the hermit, with a look of scrutiny and scorn.  The visitors were silent.  The hermit seized the lamp, and surveyed their persons with much care and deliberation.

“Holy father,” said the abashed intruders, “we crave thy blessing, and moreover a share of thy pittance, for our way hath been long and toilsome:  since yesterday our journeying hath been over hills and through deep forests, infested by wolves and noisome beasts, which we had much ado to escape.”

The hermit drew a little table from the recess, blowing the wan embers until a cheerful blaze flashed brightly through the cell.  He then opened a cupboard scooped out of the solid rock, and took thence a scrap of hard cheese, a barley cake, and a few parched peas, with which the holy men commenced their supper.  They ate their meal in silence, washing down the dainties with a draught from the spring.  When the repast was finished, one of the brethren thus addressed his host—­

“And what shall be thy message to our holy abbot?  Wilt thou send the parchments to his grace?”