Wyseby

OF THE FIRST IRVINGS.
81
Reginald." said Brian, " and — but my memory is
none of the faithfullest — I recollect not raving thus;
perchance in my young days to do so was deemed
unmanly." A slight 6neer curled his lip as he spoke.
" Away with thy taunts. Sir Brian,'' cried Regi-
nald. " I tell thee that I love her, — that this enter-
prise will be undertaken, — that she will be in my
power, — and Pshaw! to the winds with conse-
quences!"
" Tliou speakest with confidence, Sir Knight,"
said Brian ; *• may I ask upon what excellent autho-
rity thy assurance rests ?"
" On the will of the fates," said Reginald solemn-
ly, '-nightly proclaimed in the great temple of
primeval space, by their august ministers, the stars."
'• Our monks," cried Brian, " though the meaning
of their homelies be somewhat difficult to come at,
are loud-toned enough, which is a comfort to plain
men ; but, by the rood ! though their meaning may
be good, the voices of your stars are none of the
loudest."
"Mock not!" said Reginald. "Silence speaks
to Silence. In the stillness of the soul voices are
heard ; and of a truth, what they utter, shall come
to pass. Since that night, Brian, my hours have
been spent in earnest conference with the eternal
silences, and to me''— a glanco of wild exultation
shot into his eyes — " much of the future has been
revealed."
" Pshaw, pshaw ! '' cried Brian, trying to shake
off the awe that was rapidly creeping over his rude
nature, " Reginald, this is idle dreaming."
" Sir Knight," cried Reginald, " I tell thee that
in those deep midnight hours, when the stars look