“True, maiden,” said Ivanhoe, “as quiet as these disquieted times will permit⁠—And of Cedric and his household?”

“His steward came but brief while since,” said the Jewess, “panting with haste, to ask my father for certain monies, the price of wool the growth of Cedric’s flocks, and from him I learned that Cedric and Athelstane of Coningsburgh had left Prince John’s lodging in high displeasure, and were about to set forth on their return homeward.”

“Went any lady with them to the banquet?” said Wilfred.

“The Lady Rowena,” said Rebecca, answering the question with more precision than it had been asked⁠—“The Lady Rowena went not to the Prince’s feast, and, as the steward reported to us, she is now on her journey back to Rotherwood , with her guardian Cedric. And touching your faithful squire Gurth⁠—”

“Ha!” exclaimed the knight, “knowest thou his name?⁠—But thou dost,” he immediately added, “and well thou mayst, for it was from thy hand, and, as I am now convinced, from thine own generosity of spirit, that he received but yesterday a hundred zecchins.”

“Speak not of that,” said Rebecca, blushing deeply; “I see how easy it is for the tongue to betray what the heart would gladly conceal.”

“But this sum of gold,” said Ivanhoe, gravely, “my honour is concerned in repaying it to your father.”

“Let it be as thou wilt,” said Rebecca, “when eight days have passed away; but think not, and speak not now, of aught that may retard thy recovery.”

“Be it so, kind maiden,” said Ivanhoe; “I were most ungrateful to dispute thy commands. But one word of the fate of poor Gurth, and I have done with questioning thee.”