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The Grand Master exclaimed in astonishment, “Who dares to arrest a knight of the Temple of Zion in his own Preceptory and in the presence of the Grand Master?”

“I make the arrest,” replied the knight—“I, Henry Bohun, Earl of Essex, Lord High Constable of England.”

“And he arrests Malvoisin,” said the King, taking off his helmet, “by the order of Richard Plantagenet, here present. Malvoisin, you will die with your brother Philip. Grand Master, leave, you cannot oppose me.”

“I will write to Rome against you,” said the Grand Master, “Chaplains, sing the Psalm! Knights, squires, and followers of the Holy Temple, prepare to follow me!’”

The Grand Master spoke with a dignity which inspired courage into his followers. They gathered around him like the sheep around the watch-dog. The Grand Master gave the signal of departure. Their trumpets sounded a wild march and they moved off as slowly as their horses could step, as if to show that they were not afraid of the King’s knights.

During all this Rebecca saw and heard nothing—she was locked in the arms of her aged father. But one word from Isaac returned her to her feelings.

“Let us go,” he said, “my dear daughter, and throw ourselves at the feet of this good young man.”

“No,” said Rebecca, “I cannot speak to him now.”

“But, my daughter,” said Isaac, “we cannot be so unthankful.”

“We are the most thankful people on Earth,” said Rebecca—“we will thank him—but not now—for the sake of your beloved Rachel, father, not now!”

“It was well that the King,” said Ivanhoe to the Earl of Essex, “took you with him, noble Earl, and so many of your followers.”

The Earl smiled and shook his head.

“Brave Ivanhoe,” said Essex, “you know our King so well, and yet suspect him of taking so wise a precaution! I was on my way to York, when I met King Richard, like a true travelling knight galloping here. I accompanied him almost against his will.”

The rebellion ended before it started. Maurice de Bracy went to France, Philip de Malvoisin and his brother Albert were executed, Waldemar Fitzurse escaped to his castle, and Prince John was forgiven by his generous brother.

The wedding of Wilfred of Ivanhoe and Rowena was celebrated in the beautiful York Cathedral. The King himself attended, and both Gurth and Wamba were there. On the second morning after the wedding, Rowena was told that a maiden wanted to speak with her alone. A beautiful woman covered with a veil entered and bowed to the ground.

“What does this mean, lady?” said the surprised bride.

“To you, Lady of Ivanhoe,” said Rebecca, rising up, “I can lawfully pay the debt of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I am the unhappy Jewish woman, for whom your husband fought near Templestowe.”

“Lady,” said Rowena, “Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day only repaid in part your charity towards him. Tell me, can I do anything for you?”

“Nothing,” said Rebecca, calmly, “unless you will give him my grateful farewell. We are leaving England. But before I go I want to ask you one thing. Your veil covers your features, please raise it and let me see your beautiful face.”