"None, save the rich merchant that dwells hard by, Cornelius Ethelstoun." "Cornelius!" repeated the cavalier, in a disturbed and inquiring tone--"hath he departed?" "Nay, I heard not his footsteps since I watched the old man tapping warily at the prophet's door." Rodolf hastily replaced his hat, and his short and impatient rap was heard at the seer's chamber. It occupied the north-eastern angle of the building, in the gloomiest part of the house; overlooking, on one side, a small courtyard, barricadoed by walls and battlements of stout masonry, along which were ridges of long rank grass waving in all the pride of uncropped luxuriance. Another window overlooked the dark-flowing Irk, lazily rolling beneath the perpendicular rock on which the college was built--the very site of the once formidable station of Mancunium, the heart and centre of the Roman power in that vast district. No answer being rendered to this hasty summons, Rodolf raised the latch, but marvelled not a little when he beheld the room apparently deserted. Voices were, however, heard in the inner apartment. Ere he could well draw back the door slowly opened, nor could he avoid hearing the following termination to some weighty conference. "An hundred broad pieces--good! Ere night, thou sayest?" "Ere the curfew," replied Cornelius. "Look thee--'tis but a slender space for mine art to work, and"--The seer, as he uttered this with great solemnity, entered the antechamber. The gallant stood there, just meditating a retreat. A flush of anger and confusion passed for a moment over Kelly's visage. Quickly recovering his self-possession, with a severe aspect, he stood before the intruder. "Art come to listen or to watch?" abruptly interrogated the seer. "Both be rare accomplishments truly for a youth of thy breeding." "Nay, good Master Kelly; I came but at thy bidding, and mine ears are not the heavier or the wiser for what they have heard, I trow." "I thought thee safe at morning prayers." "Nay," replied Rodolf. "There be too many bright eyes and blushing cheeks for the seasoning of a man's devotions." "Cornelius, thou mayest retire. What mine art can compass shall not be lacking at thy need." The merchant, with a profound obeisance, withdrew. The seer adjusted his beard, carefully brushed the down from his velvet cap, and sate for a while as if abstracted from all outward intercourse. His keen quick eye became fixed, its lustre imperceptibly waning. A cloud seemed to pass gradually over his sharp features, until their expression was absorbed, giving place to a look of mere lifeless inanity. A spectator might have fancied himself gazing at a sage of some remote era, conjured up from his dark resting-place. The wand of death seemed to have withered his shrunk visage for ages under the dim shadow of the grave.