BY WHOM THE WEDDING BREAKFAST WAS INTERRUPTED.

The next day was a joyous one for Og, since it saw him indissolubly bound to the object of his affections. The marriage took place in the little chapel on the Tower Green, and the edifice was crowded during the ceremonial.

At its close, the happy couple adjourned, with their kinsfolk and friends, to the Stone Kitchen, where a copious and excellent repast had been prepared by Peter Trusbut, the pantler, who still exercised his vocation as purveyor to the warders of the Tower; and it need scarcely be said that full justice was done to the many good things provided by him on this auspicious occasion.

It was always agreeable to Peter Trusbut and his worthy dame to see their guests enjoy themselves, and the rapidity and gusto with which the dishes were now demolished perfectly satisfied them. Gog and Magog ate more than usual in honour of their brother’s marriage, and the bridegroom’s prowess was hardly inferior to their own.

Of course Xit had been present at the wedding, and was likewise a principal guest at the breakfast that followed it. He was in high spirits, and diverted the company by his lively sallies. When the dishes had been removed, he leaped upon the table, goblet in hand, and, in appropriate terms, proposed the health of Og and his bride—a toast which was drunk with great cheers. While they were in the very midst of enjoyment, the door suddenly opened, and a 374man of exceedingly sinister aspect, and habited in a tight-fitting leathern doublet, appeared at it. At the sight of this ill-favoured personage, the countenances of the company fell, and their laughter ceased.

“Who is that strange man?” inquired Lilias of Og, in an under tone.

“It is Mauger, the executioner,” replied her husband. “What brings thee here?” he added, half angrily, to the headsman.

“I am come to congratulate you on your marriage,” replied Mauger. “Am I not welcome?”

“Sit down, and take a cup of wine,” rejoined Og, filling a goblet.

“Here’s health to the bonny bride!” cried Mauger, eyeing her curiously as he raised the flagon to his lips.

“I do not like his looks,” said Lilias, clinging to her husband. “I wish he had not come.”

“Harkye, Mauger,” cried Xit, who was still standing upon the table, “thy presence is unsuited to this festive occasion, and we can, therefore, dispense with thy society.”

“I shall not go at thy bidding, thou malapert knave,” rejoined Mauger. “I came to see the bride, not thee.”

And he was about to seat himself in the chair left empty by the dwarf, when the latter prevented him, exclaiming,—

“That chair is mine. Begone instantly, if thou wouldst not be unceremoniously thrust from the room.”

Og seemed inclined to second the dwarf’s threat, but his wife interposed, saying,—

“Let him not be turned out, or it may bring us ill luck.”

“It will bring you ill luck if I be so dealt with, fair mistress,” rejoined Mauger, with an uncouth attempt at gallantry.

And, pushing Xit aside, he sat down in the vacant chair.

“I have a present for you, fair mistress,” pursued the headsman to Lilias. “Here it is,” he added, producing a silver box from his doublet. “This pomander was given me by Queen Catherine Howard on the day of her execution, and I have kept it about me ever since, but I will now bestow it upon you, and I will tell you why. You have a neck as long, and as white, and as snowy as Queen Catherine’s, and ............