Year: 1863

I
the prey of the most powerful arm unles!
she had father or brother, or chivalrou'
knight to take her part, and that right
manfully. If lady was stolen away, there
was no use in appealing to justice of the
peace for her restoration. The best way
for those interested in her deliverance was
to go and smite the ravisher on the head.
Certainly these were "merry days. when a
girl could notbe sure whether she belonged
by law to her own betrothed sweetheart.
But we must return to Cerne Abbey, and
the Silver Well.


The water of the well was clean, and
the monks of the Abbey were holy. Some
said the water was too clean, and the
monks too holy. But virtue is no i'm
penetrable shield against the shafts Of
scandal, and what were the surmises and
suspicious about the inmates of Cerne
Abbey but another illustration of the all
pervading and all-reaching power of hu-
man malice; for has not our great poet told
us that though one were chaste as ice, and
pure as the new fallen snow,- yet the
poison of calumnious tongues may not be
escaped.


But thus, however it was. One fair
night, long after vesper-bell, when there
were more stars in heaven than watchers
on earth, belated peasant was passing by
the Silver Well, and there he saw lady
seated, her face resting on her hands, her
arms on her knees, and sorely she wept.-
Her dress was of the purest white; her
lace he could not see More scared than
enraptured he fled, and told his tale at
the neighboring village. OF course the
villagers had their laugh at, what they
believed, his expense. But there were
others, and night afrec night, who came to
the same hotel, declaring, with pale face
and chattering jaws, that they had seen
the White Lady of the Silver Well, "
pale and weeping according to the first
testimony. 1t was chiefly in the pale
moonlight when the Lady of the Silver
Well was seen, and wheri the faint beams
embroidered her garments and lit into the
lustre of diamonds the dew drops on her
ringlets and ebon tresses.


The story of the White Lady of the
Silver Well was soon circulated, and many
sutnises filed the rustic mind. Villagers
OF an evening avoided the path devout
maids and matrons who, by daylight had
to take the way, piously crossed them
selves; many declared they had seeu the
White Lady of the Silver Well, but none
gave clear testimony, except that she ap
peared to look into the well and weep
When the news of the Lady of the Silver
Well was brought to the Abbot of Cerne,
he shook his head mysteriously but a
close observer might have seen that his
Cheek turned pale. He spake to his breth
ren of bell, book and candle, and exor-
cisms were tried Yet tie oftener, there
after, was seen the Lady Of the Well but
chiefly by strangers travelling in these quar-
tiers, for the villagers duly instructed, and,
having their own superstitious fears, avoid
ed the spot after nightfall. Little chill
dren crept into their beds, when they were
told of the White Lady of the Silver Well.
They loved her because she wept. Why
they feared they could not tell. Chiefly
on the night of full moon was the lady
seen, whether the orb lighted up the chill
snow wreath, or shed her slanting beams
through the woodlands, when harvest
sheaves were ripe, and when the bramble
bore its blackberries, and the hips and
haws were darkening into red.


1t was boisterous night in December,
in the year of grace 1893, when knight
erode over the void, ION his way to Cerne
Abbey. His steed was jaded One hope
lighted his path. 1t was to see the sister
of his youth. Many years had they been
parted He had fought as a squire in
Paynimland, and returned with the spurs
of knight. King Richard had owned |
his prowess, and with his own hand had |
belted his sword around him.


1t was night when he had to cross the |
short wood that led to Cerne Abbey but
with the cross at his bosom, there was no |
fear at his heart. He reached the we'll |
known Silver Well, and there he saw |
lady sitting So late, and lady there
He rubbed his eyes and approached the
spot; the lady, as in many others, in like
case, rose from her place, and, like thing |
of air, disappeared in the tangled mazes of
the wood.


In Cerne Abbey there was guest that |
night, and the guest had had his dreams |
And the dream ran thus By his pillow |
4 hollow-eyed maiden sang, pointing to a
wound in her breast


" Sisters in life still lean on a mother;
Sisters in death have need of brother;
Search not the cloisters, seek not the tomb,
Search in the dungeon where lust gave the


wound"
Twice the vision appeared. and the sleep
er awoke, music of mathis, still sounding |
in his ears. At prime the young knight
descended into the refectory In his
wearied state he would have made good
cheer: but the dream had greatly impress
ed him.
" Search not the Gloistcrs, seek not the tomb,
Search in the dungeon. where lust gave the


wound"


he repeated to himself " Yet he mur-
INJURED, II shall find my sister Lillian, to-
day" And away he rode from the mon
astery, with the prayers Of the monks, and
the blessing of the Abbot. Instinctively
he hated that Abbot, He was to all in
tents an "oily man of Godn-sleek, fair.
still young, but with hypocrite written on
his forehead.


He rode on his way to Altring Castle,
where. his foster. father resided, and where
he had left his sister, the Lady Lillian
Not far, however, had he ridden from
Cerne Abbey, before his horse stumbled
and he was thrown to the ground. How
long he lay in a swoon he knew not ; but
when he recovered himself the moon was
high in the heavens, tipping the branches