Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1857-06-03
with the darkness of the funeral pail.

pert Merton to the love of Anselm- the
knight who fell with a good sword il
hand, and his armor on, in the wars o.
Europe.
Marvel not, reader, that the betrothed
of Anselm should so soon yield herself
to the addresses of another. Did she for.
get her lover-the good knight who had
borne her name on his helme et through
the reddest fields of Palestine? Did she
cease to remember him, who had laid at
her feet the wres.ed sword and conquer
ed banner of his enemies-whose armol
she had herself laced for its last trial
him at the mention of whose name hel
heart beat proudly, and for whose return
she had looked forward with the anxiety
of lover? Neverl She wept sadly at
the story Of his fall, glorious as it was
she had offered to many a shrine,
prayers for the noble spirit that had
passed away forever. But tears may
not always flow; the fountains which
have been unsealed by the rude hand ol
affliction, may close again. So it was
with the lady Elenor. The tide of ago.
ny settled down into the calm melsn.
choly of spirit sanctifed and made
better by the trial of grief. And, when
she knew that the early love of Rupert
Merton love which bis friendship for
Robert of Anselm had checked in its
reyelations-still remained strong in his
bosom, she listened 10 his words of af-
fection. consolation, and sympathy
And she gave hea plighted trolh to tie
dearest love.
They stood up before toe altar Of the
village church, and the multitude gazed
on them with grati6ed eagerness. Both
were pale; there was a melancholy on
their features, that told Now deeply they
had both tasted of the bitter fountains oi
existence. But in the noble bearing OF
Rupert, and in the chastened beauty OF
his lovely partner, thdbe who looked at
them found much to admire, and whis-
per of delight ran around the assembly
for one moment, and then as the impos-
ing ceremony commenced, all became
once more, in brealhless attention.
A clatter of hoofs, as if horseman
were hurrying with the speed of life and
death, startled the assembly. The next
moment the tall form Of knight in ar
mour darkened the door Of the church
The multitude gave way before his easy
and fierce strides. "Holdl'' he exclaim
ed, in the tone of command, "that lady
is my betrothed bride. Lady Eleanora,
| adjure thee, remember thy vow; break
it not fer false traitori"
All started, and Rupert laid bis hand
upon his sword. "Sir knight" he said,
The hot blood rushing up to his pale
face, cat another time thou shall be
ftly answered, if it so prove that thou
art worthy of knighlly dealing" And
he turned to the priest at the altar.
The eyes of the stranger shOne like
fire beneath the bars of the vizor.-
sRuperl Merton!" he shouted, in fierce
and loud voice, "let the ceremony be
stayed, or the sanctuary of the living
God shall not protect thee!"
"Das;ard!" returned Merton, convey
ing his trembling bride 10 the hands OF
his kinsman, and confronting The intru-
der. "Rupert Merton asks no other
protection save his own good sword. If
thou hast the spirit of a knight, follow
me-"
They strobe through the church aside
together; in another moment the quick
clash of steel rang sharply in the ears of
the horror-stricken assembly. The strug.
gle was shert, but desperate. Reckless
of his own life, each seemed only to
seek that of his enemy. Rupert, cover
ed with wounds, reeled forward and
grasped the throat of his enemv, with
that fierce strength which passion lends
to the last struggles of existence. His
glazing eye blazed wildly open as he
passed his sword like lightning through
the body of the stranger. Twas ia
tai blow. Both fell at the same instant;
and when the multitude gathered around
them, they were dead.
"Unhelm the stranger" said the
priest, as with shudder he survey ed
the dead forms before him. The helmet
was unbound, and the naughty and dark
features of Robert of Anselm were dis
closed; features familiar to many who
were present. although settled into the
grimness of death. The knight of An
slem had recovered from his wounds; be
had escaped from the captivity of the
Infdel, and sought his loved England,
the home of his bethrothed-to die by
the hand of Rupert Merton.
"May God deal in mercy with their
fierce spirits!' said the priest. in tremb
ling voice. And the people murmured
amen.
The lady Eleanor died in the cell of a
convent, after living for three years with
a withered heart and wearied spirit, and