"Thon sayest truth," said the king, "and art thyself worthy to illustrate thy own doctrine." So saying, he seized the chancellor's cloak, and began pulling it from Iiis shoulders. The favorite resisted this charitable impulse, and put spurs to his horse. The king, however, retained his grasp, and urged his steed to keep pace with that of the close-fisted courtier, and betwixt their struggles and laughter, both had nearly been rolled in the dirt. Becket, finally, released his hold, and the wondering beggar wrapped his shivering limbs in the finest mantle in the kingdom. As their road wound through the rich meadows of Even-lod, they canght occasional glimpses of the nunnery at Godstow, half-hidden among the trees, and before they reached the outer line of the convent walls, they saw at a short distance before them, crossing a rustic bridge, the figure of a beautiful girl, mounted upon a coal-black steed. The ease and grace with which she reined the mettlesome animal, the exquisite symmetry of her form, set off by the rich drapery of her robe, first attracted the king's notice. Her hair of a golden brown escaping from a turban-like riding-cap, floated like a veil over her shoulders, and air and exercise imparted a brilliant bloom to a face of lily fairness, and gave additional lustre to eyes, whose mir-ror-like depths seemed formed to reflect the light of heaven. Henry instinctively drew rein as the beautiful being dash-ed across their way and struck into a bridle-path, followed by a venerable-looking serving man, in green livery. "What dazzling vision is this ?" said Henry, pausing as if to recall a half-forgotten memory. " I have seen that face before, or my eye is, for the first time, at fault." "The appointments of the servant are those of the Clif-ford's," said Becket, coldly. " And what is the name of the fair creature with the golden locks ?" pursued Henry. "If it be the daughter of Lord Walter de Clifford, her name is Rosamond," said Becket, little inclined to satisfy the monarch's inquiries. ELEANOR. 157