Year: 1879

heart, and he cried out in ecstacy. The

 lady then drew back her veil, and by

 the light of torch that was fastened to

 the wall, the captive saw who it was. II

 was the Queen Matilda-she who, as the daughter of Baldwin of Flanders, had

 offered him gift that he could not take, and who was now the wife of William the conqueror. She looked at him steadily, an evil light in her bold, black eyes, wicked beauty around her mouth. Then she spake:

 "Said I not, beware of Matilda's vengeance2 You scorned my love, and this is the hate I have given you. Brithric of Gloucester, since Duke William made me his wife I have had but one wish. It is attained. Upon my knees I asked boon of my lord and he has granted it. You are nay prisoner, not his. I have laid waste all your lands, your castle is in ruins, and the fair parks about your home are ugly, desolate places. I have seized the abbey of Tewksbury-everything is mine now. As for your person, it shall lie in dust and dark, and thirst and ache, and die by the inches day by day. Better have had Matilda's love than her hate, Saxon Brithric. A scorned woman never forgives."

 With pain and much sorrow, the im- prisoned man lifted himself up, and thus he answered Matilda, the queen.

 "Lady, I gave you honor and no shame. was but true knight unto her to whom my VOWS were phghted. Yet, had I wronged you your vengeance is now complete. You look upon a conquered man-one despoiled of fair estate, of health, of power, of home. Grant him the pity we must all one day ask of Heaven. I ask but one boon, I ask it humbly. Let my wife come but once to me. Let me see Althea but once before I die. Grant me this, I pray you."

 Then the revengeful woman advanced close to the knight, and bending down 50 that her black braids touched him, and her breath fell on his face, she whispered:

 "Brithric Meoux, the soldiers who despoiled your home had commands from me. Would it be revenge to spare your greatest treasure-the woman for whom you scorned me2 Man, in that hour whose sequel made me hate you, could have knelt, save for woman's shame, to beg the boon of your love. I longed for tender words and kisses from you, as the wounded soldier on the battlefield longs for water. Did you pity me? Out of the travail of my love was born this hate. Did I not bid you beware of it? You know it now"

 She gleamed upon him with her hateful eyes. Then she gathered her veil about her, and spurning him with her foot, departed from the dungeon.

 The earl was left alone and in dark ness. He had no wish to go forth into the world again. He prayed that he might die. And he did die. One day his keepers found him as if asleep, upon the cold floor of the dungeon. They touched him, but he was cold and stiff.

 Matilda of Flanders revenge was con- plete. They bore him forth from the dread charnel house, and buried him in the old chapel of Tewksbury Abbey, and there his tomb is to be seen to this day. Upon the tomb stands the figure of the knight himself, as large as life, clad from head to foot in armor, and holding in his right hand lance, while his left rests upon shield. Beneath reads the inscripiion-''T This is Brithric, Earl of Gloucester"