gratified, shouldst thou leave thy present fortune, to follow those more worthy of a man, and list into the service even of him thy soul so loveth-St. Julian! Hast thou faith, boy, and confidence ?-thou shalt never repent thy purpose,-answer me!"

"Faith and confidence! aye, truly have I, both !" answered Sir Orville; "both in St. Julian, and not less in the brave and gallant Sir Walter De Ruthen. I would go hence ;-for while I linger here, there is more peril in the bright presence of a beauteous lady, than were I to face the angry cannon's roar, the sound of trumpets, the clash of swords, or neigh of fiery steeds. Alas, there is more danger in one glance from the fair Bohemian maid, than all the perils of war, though e'er so raging."

Sir Walter could not now doubt of the sincerity of the youthful page; and though he still cautiously evaded any conversation that might lead to the subject against which he had warned him not to be inquisitive; yet he began to be irresistibly charmed at the unaffected display of good humour, and urbanity of manners that nature seemed to have stamped so ingenuously on the countenance of the youthful speaker; and viewing him with an air of complacency, now perfectly free from restraint, he exclaimed,

"Promise me, then, that you will gain me an audience with the Lady of Albino, when no one else shall intrude upon our privacy :-I have for her secret ear, somewhat of importance. I must speak to the Lady Margaret when no mortal breathing shall listen to our discourse; promise me this, and, by the honour of a soldier, I promise thee in return, the protection, the friendship, of the great St. Julian! Thou shalt

shine in valour, boy; and though the wars are over, and for a while peace waves the banner o'er the head of the mighty conqueror, there will be more battles, and more smiling victories! and you shall share the glories and the pride of martial conquest. If thy young heart so pants for military ardour, (and much I prize thee for it) soon shall a soldier's triumph grace thy brows, and St. Julian advance thee to a soldier's fame !"

"You may command Orville Faulkner in all that I can serve you, with my poor ability," uttered the grateful page. "I will attempt to forward your wishes, though at the hazard of all I hold dear in existence, Yes, Sir Walter, when the midnight hour shall advance, and all is locked in fast repose in the gothic towers of St. Clair, I will conduct you to the armory, where the Lady Margaret passes some hours in silent meditation o'er the trophies of her buried ancestors; and where some of the mysteries of this castle are nightly performed, doubtless with her and her emissaries. I have seen strange things, and heard strange things, since I have been the page of the Lady Margaret, truly, Sir Walter !-but I am forbidden to reveal aught that may discredit the high reputed character of this illustrious lady! Yet I like not some of her proceedings. She is, I fear, the mortal enemy of the great St. Julian."

"Thou canst not tell me more of the Lady Margaret than I already know," uttered Sir Walter; "but St. Julian is beyond the power of his vindictive foes! a bright meridian star, that foul malignant envy cannot reach. Of the mysteries thou hast beheld, they are only mysteries to thee; to me they are familiar as the spirit who directs them, which, truly, is an evil one.

But let this matter pass. I will not question thee of their import. How bore the Lady of Albino the death of her husband, and the loss of her son?"

To which the youthful page replied,—

"Oh, it was passing strange, and, indeed, most wonderful, to see the lady, calm and undismayed, even in that fearful hour which makes the stoutest heart to tremble, and the most roseate cheek to blanch with fear! No tear bedew'd her cheek!-no heaving sigh swell'd her bosom!-no terrors possess'd her mind! and, while she denounced curses on the head of St. Julian, she wept not-she spoke not of the gallant slain ones! But the beauteous Augustina! ah, how many tears stained that lovely cheek, more fair than the dewy lily on the mountain top, or purer than the alpine snows ere they dissolve, and mix with the grosser substance of the earth. Her blue eyes, (deep as the violet's hue, or gently raised from their silken fringes but more resemble the azure canopy of heaven) were cast in silent dejection on the ground, as she listened to the mournful tidings of Albino's fate, and what she loved more than light or life, her young brother, slainthe brave Fernando! Motionless she sat awhile, absorbed in grief, her golden tresses waving in rude negligence, on her fair and open brows; and while her cherub lips softly murmured forth the name of Fernando, her stern mother haughtily repulsed her eloquent tears, and bade them cease to flow. Never shall I forget the Lady Margaret, as in accents of reproach, she thus addressed the weeping lovely maid :

"I command you, Augustina, instantly command you, on peril of my extreme displeasure, to hide these

women's tears, and check this woman's weakness, which so disgraces the daughter of the great Albino. Wherefore weepest thou? Thy father is slain, and thy brother is also numbered with the dead that strew Bohemian fields, with the blood of many a gallant chief! But hath not thy father, and thy brother, died like heroes? Feels not thy heart the deathless fame they have acquired, through ages of eternity, in the fields of immortal glory; and lamentest thou their fall thou weak and puerile maid? Ah, had I again a husband and a son, so valiant, and so brave, again I would weary heaven with my prayers, that they might thus live-and thus perish! Timid girl, hadst thou one atom of thy mother's dauntless spirit in thy young bosom thou wouldst rejoice at a soldier's fall, and mingle tears with rapture among the cypress that shadows his remains!"

"But tears are not denied to the suffering and the brave," softly responded the lovely maid, "and surely my noble mother will not condemn those that nature yields to nature! Mother, when Lazarus died, whose eye was it that dropt a tear of pity on his grave, and did not place it to the account of weakness? It was the blessed Saviour of mankind, who wept for Lazarus; whose virtues we are taught to emulate, and whose character demands all human homage, and exceeds all human praise! Ad oring Him, I do not yield to weakness, for I had been weak, indeed, without this blessed knowledge of his divine and holy laws. 'Tis said, mother, that the mighty victor of this bloody battle against the Austrian army is again

"Our mortal foe," fiercely vociferated the indignant Margaret. "Thy father's and thy brother's

foe! The accurs'd, the proud St. Julian! He whom I ever hated-he whom I still bear mortal hatred to, and, however famed for warlike deeds, he whom I shall hate for evermore!"

"St. Julian! St. Julian !" a second time repeated the faultering maid, while for a moment, like the young rosebud of the morning blush'd her lovely face; yet, paled it as quickly, and as suddenly to an almost deathlike hue; and there was an infant sigh, just newly born in her transparent bosom; but soon she sent the little trembler hence! but the tear that fell on that now pale cheek, was-pity; and the sigh that wafted from that snowy breast, was-love. Already had the dark eye of Lady Margaret, glanc'd with rage on her unoffending child; and, though she heard not the gentle sigh, she mark'd the roseate blush that the name of St. Julian had given birth to, and sternly demanded to know why she had repeated the name of St. Julian?

"Why hast thou echoed my words !" exclaimed she. "I said, St. Julian! Why dost thou turn pale at the name of St Julian; and ask what already thou dost know?"

"And should I not tremble at the name of him who inspires all others, with this involuntary fear," timidly, and yet more faulteringly, pronounced Augustina. "And yet, till my mother told me, I did not know that he it was who conducted the allies, and led the forces against my noble father. I did not think St. Julian would have" The Bohemian maid paused, and the pause was filled up, without delay, by Lady Margaret.

"Have slain thy father, and made thy bro