A QUARREL.

The great Abbey of Westminster was approaching its completion; an
army of masons and labourers swarmed like bees upon and around it,
and although differing widely in its massive architecture, with
round Saxon windows and arches, from the edifice that was two or
three generations later to be reared in its place,--to serve as a
still more fitting tomb for the ashes of its pious founder,--it was
a stately abbey, rivalling the most famous of the English fanes of
the period.

From his palace hard by King Edward had watched with the deepest
interest the erection of the minster that was the dearest object
of his life. The King was surrounded by Normans, the people among
whom he had lived until called from his retirement to ascend the
throne of England, and whom he loved far better than those over
whom he reigned. He himself still lived almost the life of a recluse.
He was sincerely anxious for the good of his people, but took small
pains to ensure it, his life being largely passed in religious
devotions, and in watching over the rise of the abbey he had founded.

A town had risen around minster and palace, and here the workmen
employed found their lodgings, while craftsmen of all descriptions
administered to the wants both of these and of the nobles of Edward's
court.

From one of the side doors of the palace a page, some fifteen or
sixteen years of age, ran down the steps in haste. He was evidently
a Saxon by his fair hair and fresh complexion, and any observer of
the time would have seen that he must, therefore, be in the employment