That day, all his landmarks were bent prostrate with the waters, and with consternation, increased by previous anticipation, he observed a certain tremulous motion of the waters, ebbing from beneath the castle side of the bank. For a moment he stood aghast. He knew well what was going on in the palace, the number of souls therein, and the imminent danger which awaited every one then feasting at the Bishop's board. Recovering himself from his surprise, humanity prevailed over every other consideration, and the thought of so many perishing induced him to hasten his steps round the moat. As he went on, his keen perception became more alarmed, for he perceived that the fall of the palace must quickly come. His agitation increased to such a degree, that he could not move quick enough, and men were surprised to see St. Ivan, hitherto always slow, calm, and gentle, with his hoary hairs and well-composed walk, now stepping short and quick with extreme trepidation. His heart seemed swollen within him; his agitated spirit, now that he saw the near accomplishment of what he had been looking for so long, was dreadfully disturbed. He knew it would be in vain to tell the warder, the gardener, or the serving men. He knew they all understood that he would not pass the draw-bridge lest it should fall upon him, as he himself had issued a sort of oracular declaration that when he entered the palace it would fall down. He, therefore, hastened his steps, determined to terrify every one out of the palace before the crash came. CHAPTER XV. THE JUDGMENT. The guests were all seated in the ancient palace-hall, and before them were placed the profuse hospitality of one whose board was as regularly supplied by mayor, portmen, burgesses, commonalty, and gentry in the country, as if they were all tenants of the See, and bound to furnish the Bishop's board. There was, in those days, no niggard bounty, no measured dole to the comer; but such as could feast on ample fare, without intoxicating potions, were welcome to the palace. Latimer had been introduced to Alice as the friend of Lord De Freston. Alice took her seat in the assembly, as if every creature before her was her slave. Her stern, majestic, pale, oval face, with the conical headdress of the period, gave her such a lofty look, that it was the theme of observation amongst most of the guests. How haughty is the Bishop's queen! was the speech of more than one of the guests, as she surveyed the assemblage before her, and scarcely condescended to give a glance of recognition, much less a word, to any one. Ellen De Freston, who had known the failing of Alice, was pained to see how deeply it had grown upon her since she had last seen her; but she was doubly pained to observe in her a contempt for every one there present, but more especially for her cousin, William Latimer.