assistance? she whom angels visit with repose, and saints watch over as their choicest treasure,---who could harm such lovely innocence ?"

"The spirit to whom innocence is hateful," cried Sir Walter, "and the demon who derides the power and the influence of virtue, because he can never feel the happiness which it produces. Evil cannot be allied to good, neither can innocence dwell with guilt, although human means are sometimes employed to make it share in its punishment.".

"And what has guilt,-what has punishment to do with the fair Bohemian maid?" now impetuously demanded Sir Orville Faulkner.

To which, Sir Walter bluntly replied ;--

"Much! if she is unwarily led into its intricate mazes by artful and insidious design, by canting hypocrisy, and false piety, and by seeking after the semblance of virtue, she will only grasp at the shadow.”

"I do not understand you, Sir Walter De Ruthen," cried Sir Orville, colouring deeply, "nor know I, at what-at whom, your allusion points; if at myself, your fears for the beauteous lady are groundless: by the immortal powers, I would not wrong that lovely maid, to reign a monarch o'er a created world. But for her safety-for her happiness, what would not Orville Faulkner achieve? what perils not encounter? what weary hardships not undergo? Even to the holy land, where pilgrims kiss the shrine that they adore, barefoot would I wander for that sweet maiden; and ask no other boon, no other reward, than to behold one smile illumine her lovely cheek, and hear those lips more fresh and ripe than mountain berries, accent my

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name in kindness.I ask no more, by holySir Orville paused.

"No more!" uttered Sir Walter, with an incredulous smile, and a sly insidious look; "by my sword and buckler, then, thou art the most modest serving gentleman in Christendom; and, by my faith, thy wishes are as moderate, were I to credit their report. But thinkest thou, boy, that I will e'er believe them? No! truly, thou hast too much young blood in thy veins, to feel so coldly when a young maid is the point in question, and that maid is the daughter of the great Albino!"

"Whom I so loved, and so revered," faulteringly uttered Sir Orville, "that-that-that I

"Cannot help loving his daughter, for the very life of you," uttered Sir Walter and smiled. "Well, Sir Orville, it is not my business to interrogate you about the state of your affections, which, if they lean to youth and beauty, and to merit withal, is very natural; for, if woman had not smiled, the very Garden of Eden itself had been a wild! For the Bohemian lady, there are more dangers pending o'er her beauteous head, beneath the battlements of St. Clair than you are aware of; and the authority I give for warning you of these dangers that assail and threaten her, was her own beauteous self! From the lips of Augustina I heard the confession, thrice repeated, and her mother, the Lady Margaret, in conjunction with the pious counsel of the priest, Benvolio, did much exhort the lovely maid to enter the Convent of Mariette Mouline, and to take the holy vows according to the conventual order of the sisterhood; which signifieth, that she and the

world must separate for ever. By mere accident, I was stationed near the casement, that overlooketh yon beautiful, wild, and romantic plantation; and, as I gazed on the full orbed moon, which so brightly shed her silver light on the shadowy face of things; while I contemplated and adored, in silent wonder and admiration, the awful majesty of heaven; when all was still, but the night warbling bird, who breathed its song of melody through the acacia grove, sweetened by the spicy incense of the fragrant flowers,-two lovely figures, tall as the graceful pine, that bespoke the beauty of woman's loveliest form, glided to yon bower of budding roses, and quickly entered into sweet discourse. Methought the voice of one had a charm in the sound, e'en like unto music! the other, something more mellow, but not less grateful to the ear. St. Julian was the theme, and ever and anon they talked of Benvolio, till at last, the whole truth, sentence by sentence, was conveyed to my shocked, and suddenly alarmed senses,-that the intention of the Lady Margaret, aided by the pious counsel of her virtuous friend, is to sacrifice this lovely creature to the vile laws, mistaken and blind, of priestcraft, bigotry, and'superstition! Forbid it heaven! and forbid it nature! that she, so formed to reign the partner of a monarch's bed, so heavenly gifted with beauty's fancied excellence, should have those smiling charms devoted to a cold cloister's gloom. Feels not thy young heart the cruel sacrifice she is about to make? pants not thy young heart to set her free? for thou canst do it, noble Faulkner, if thy will inclines that way. Hasten, then, ere these hateful rites are performed, and join with me to snatch her hence, far from the power of monkish priests,

and her tyrannic mother: hasten, generous youth, to save a lovely woman from oppression, cruelty, and injustice. Pause not, linger not in thy resolves, but boldly say, that you will become a godlike hero, by the performance of a godlike action! for, great as the immortal gods is he, who flies to aid a helpless woman, and redress her wrongs!"

Astonishment, for a moment, deprived the youthful page of Lady Margaret of all power of utterance, for he knew that at a late hour he had observed Augustina and Madame La Roche, (for so was Antoinette called) enter the gardens of the pagoda, and that they were both deeply veiled, and earnestly engaged in conversation; but never had he the remotest thought of the cruel and arbitrary intentions of the Lady Margaret, or the fate she was preparing for her lovely child! And he shuddered at the idea, while he emphatically pronounced,-

"Oh! teach me how to save her! bid me fly o'er the wide expanse of ocean, or plunge in fiery Etna's burning flames, and I will do it, fearless, to save the sweet maiden from a fate so cruel!"

"Brave youth, thou needest not wing thy flight so far," uttered Sir Walter De Ruthen, "nor risk the dangers that thou wouldest so courageously share: there is a shorter way to serve the fortunes of the beauteous lady."

"Name it gallant Sir Walter," impatiently demanded Sir Orville Faulkner.

"First promise me thy implicit confidence," cried Sir Walter; "betrayed to Lady Margaret, we are undone for ever!"

"And can you think me guilty of so base and per

fidious an action?" uttered Sir Orville, while a blush, certainly indignant, for a moment dyed his manly cheek. Betray you to the Lady Margaret? I would perish first! and little does Sir Walter De Ruthen know of Orville Faulkner, to suspect him thus."

"And for that little knowledge I possess, I pray you pardon me," cried Sir Walter, hurt that he had unintentionally wounded the feelings of so spirited, and certainly, to all appearance, so amiable and disinterested a character; "but there is a lovely lady whom you love, in question, and there is a master, whom I am bound to serve with truth and loyalty, whom, you know, loves her too, and would woo her to his arms, were he able, by trampling empires under his feet. I am certainly placed in an awkward situation, Sir Orville Faulkner. You are the rival of the great St. Julian!"

"But I am also his friend, would St. Julian honour me with so sacred a title," replied the youthful page. "I am also his admirer, and would be his follower, did circumstances at this moment warrant it, with honour. For rivalship, I disclaim having any, with one so far above me and, for interest in the heart of the Bohemian maid, presume I not to think of it. No, sir, the humble vassal, (but at best) of the great Albino, aspires not to the hand of his daughter. I have slumbered in dreams of bliss, and murmured forth the name of Augustina, but never dared I, when waking, approach the lovely maid, as one who had a right to address her in the language of love. Sir, if I love, I have concealed the passion with the honour and the prudence that may become a man in my situation, not less critical than your's; and, whatever truth or loyalty you bear your noble master, it should