The irate mayor had ridden his horse near Ralph's as he spoke. Suddenly Ralph felt another horse hustle rudely between them. Turning, he was aware of the sweep and flash of a sword, and heard the harsh voice of Rainham say, "Why waste words on such a varlet? He is one of them."

The young priest fell to the ground without a word or a cry.

His murder was not long unavenged. The horses reared and pranced, and as Rainham leant over to see the effect of his blow, a wild figure seemed to leap out of the ground at his horse's feet and a fearful blow from an axe crashed into his open helmet. It was Jannequin Carter; the tatterdemalion had found justice at last.

The insurrection was at an end. But for the king's prompt and daring action the peasants would undoubtedly have made an effort to avenge the death of their leader. But Richard's frank gallantry disposed them to trust in his promises, and while they stood irresolute, and, confused by the sudden loss of their head, debated one with another what they should do, their opportunity was gone. The royal party drew off towards the fields leaving them to deliberate on the king's offer; and meantime Walworth and his companions galloped into the city for the assistance that had been organised overnight. In half-an-hour they returned with Sir Robert Knolles and ten thousand armed men. The insurgents were still the more numerous body, but they were poorly armed and they had lost their captain. Resistance was hopeless; many of them threw down their arms at once and slunk away. A goodly number still remained in an attitude of defiance, and Knolles and Walworth were eager to fall upon them and slay, but this the king firmly forbade, and on his reiteration of his promises the whole gathering dispersed.

How the king's promises, whatever his own feelings may have been when the crisis was past, were broken by his government, how his charters of manumission were revoked within a fortnight and the revocation sanctioned by parliament, how commissions were sent into the counties to try all who had been concerned in the rebellion, in what merciless and bloody fashion these commissions were discharged, the particulars of all this we must leave the reader to gather from history.

The policy of pacifying the rebels with

And

fair words and thereafter taking ample vengeance was triumphant. Tyler, and Straw, and Ball, and Kirby, and the thousands of others less prominent who suffered the extreme penalty, seemed to have troubled the realm and lost their lives in vain. yet the hope of ultimate good which sustained Ralph Hardelot when he began to despair of any fruit from his passionate desire to reach justice through peaceful paths, was fulfilled. The charters of freedom were revoked, but the pressure of bondage was shaken loose by this convulsion, and the serfs won gradually from the indulgence of their intimidated masters the freedom which they had tried in vain to achieve by a comprehensive act.

The princess with the faithful Clara Roos was waiting anxiously for news when the young king burst into the room with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"Away with your cares, dear mother," he cried. "My heritage was well-nigh lost, but I have this day recovered it."

His mother embraced him fondly and he began to recount the incidents of the day.

Among those incidents the loss of his young favourite Ralph Hardelot had made but a slight impression. He had missed Ralph and had asked what had become of him and learnt something of the circumstances, but the hurry and fever of the day had quickly obliterated his passing anger and regret. He had gone through the tale of his adventures and his triumphs before the sight of Clara recalled this unpleasant circumstance.

"Poor Ralph!" he cried, suddenly becoming grave. "Poor Clara! It is a most unhappy chance. I would have caused the miscreant to be drawn by wild horses if justice had not been anticipated."

Clara looked up in wonder. "What has happened, fair son," said the princess, "to disturb you so?

He told what he knew.

Clara smiled. She was at work on a piece of embroidery and her hand never paused.

"Poor Clara," said the princess. But both she and her son were too overjoyed to have room in their hearts for the tender consideration of true pity. "I rejoice," she added, "that his brother escaped."

Clara still smiled. But suddenly her face became of a deathly pallor, and she threw up her arms with a moan and fell backdead.

W. MINTO.