vivid. Youth sees more than the landscape,--age, sees it as it is; the

one has its own sun-shine, to adorn all it looks upon; the other views everything under the shady cloud.

Rose d'Albret stopped to gaze; then, notwithstanding the chilliness of the wintry air, she turned her eyes to the east over the gray lines, where the vanguard of the night was marching forward over the sky, and then looked round to the west, where the rear of day was all glittering with golden light. What made her sigh? what made her fix her eyes upon a thin white film of mist that rose up from the deeper parts of the forest, like the smoke of a heath-burner's fire? Who can say? who can trace along the magic chain of association, link by link, and tell how the objects within her sight connected themselves in her mind with her own situation, and made her remember that she had much to regret?

"You are thoughtful to-night, Rose," said the Marquis de Chazeul.

"And may a woman never be thoughtful, Chazeul?" asked Rose d'Albret. "If such be your creed, pray seek another wife, for you will often find me so, I assure you."

"Nay," replied Chazeul, "I would not disappoint you so for the world, sweet Rose; it would break your little heart if I were to take you at your word."

"No, indeed," replied the young lady, with perfect calmness; "you are quite mistaken, Chazeul, my heart is not so easily broken; and, as for disappointment, it would be none at all; I am in that happy state, that, whatever be the event, I can bear it with calmness."

"Or at all events, with affected indifference," replied her companion, a little nettled, "is it not so, Rose?"

"Not at all," she answered; "you never saw me affect anything that I did not feel. Here is father Walter, who has known me as long and better than yourself, can witness for me. Did you ever see me pretend to anything that is not real, Monsieur de la Tremblade?"

"Never, my dear child," replied the priest; "and I should think Monsieur de Chazeul should be very well content to see you willing to give your hand to him according to your guardian's commands. In the first place, it shows that obedient disposition, on which so much of a husband's happiness depends; and in the next place, it leaves him the sweet task of teaching you to love him."

"That is, if he can," said Rose d'Albret, with a smile; "but do you know, my good father," she continued, "I would draw another inference from the facts, which is simply this, that it would be better for Monsieur de Chazeul to give me longer time to learn that same lesson of love, and not to press forward this same marriage so hastily."

"Nay, on my life," answered Chazeul, "it is Monsieur de Liancourt's doing, not mine; but I will acknowledge, sweet Rose, that my eagerness to possess so fair a flower may make me anxious to gather it without delay, though my impatience may make me prick my fingers with the thorns, as I have done just now."

"Well, I am in the hands of others," said Rose d'Albret; "I have nothing to do but to obey; and doubtless, in hurrying this matter forward, my guardian does what he thinks best for me."

"He may have many reasons, dear daughter," said the priest, "he is old; times are troublesome and dangerous; none can tell what a day may bring forth; and it is a part of his duty to see you married and under the protection of a younger and more active man than himself, before he is called to quit this busy scene."

"Oh, I think, good father, I could protect myself," replied Rose d'Albret. "Those thorns my cousin De Chazeul talks of, would be quite hedge enough, I should imagine,--but hark, there are guns in the wood--and there again!"

All listened, and two or three more shots were distinctly heard.

"I thought we had a truce here?" said Rose d'Albret.

"True, amongst ourselves," answered the Marquis de Chazeul; "but we cannot get others always to observe it; and 'tis not unlikely that these are a party of Henry de Bourbon's heretic soldiers wandering about, and committing some of their usual acts of violence and plunder. He is now besieging Dreux, I find."

"Why, I have always heard," said Rose d'Albret, "that the King is strict and scrupulous in restraining his soldiers from such excesses."

"The King?" exclaimed Chazeul, with his lip curling. "Pray call him some other name, sweet Rose. He may be a king of heretics, but he is no king of mine, nor of any other Catholics."

"Hush, hush!" cried Walter de la Tremblade, "you must not let Monsieur de Liancourt hear you make such rash speeches. He acknowledges him as King of right, though not in fact,--his religion being the only bar."

"And that an insurmountable one," said the Marquis; "if he were to profess himself converted to-morrow, who would believe him? I am sure not I."

"Nay, cousin," replied Rose d'Albret, "one who is so frank and free, so true to all men, so strict a keeper of his word as the King is reported to be, would never falsify the truth in that. Remember, too, I am his humble cousin; for the counts of Marennes come from the same stock as the old kings of Navarre."

"Ay, a hundred degrees removed," said Chazeul; "I have no fear, dear Rose, of your blood being contaminated by his."

"Well, it matters not," replied Rose d'Albret, with a laugh; "I intend to fall in love with him whenever I see him."

"It might be better," observed Chazeul, "to try that with your husband."

"Oh no," cried his fair companion, gaily; "that would be quite contrary to all rule, Chazeul, especially amongst the ladies and gentlemen of the League. As far as I have heard, they have done away with all such foolish old customs; and loyalty to their king, or love between husband and wife are amongst the errors of the past, which they quite repudiate." Chazeul bit his lip, and she went on, "I should like to see this King, he is so gallant and so noble, I am sure I should love him--is he very handsome, Monsieur de Chazeul?"

"I never saw him, Mademoiselle," answered the Marquis, somewhat bitterly, "except at such a distance that one could discover nothing but the white plume in his hat, and on his horse's head."

"I have seen him often, long ago," said the priest, "when he was a mere youth, at the court of the Queen Mother; and then he was as handsome a boy as ever my eyes lighted upon, with a skin so delicately soft, and such a warm colour in his cheek, one would have thought him little fitted for the rough, laborious, and perilous life he has since led."

"Hark! there are guns again," exclaimed Rose d'Albret; and a sudden cloud came over her brow. "I hope these people," she continued, after a moment's pause, "are not attacking my cousin De Montigni."

"They will soon make an end of him if they do," said Chazeul; "at least I should suppose so."

"You seem very indifferent to the matter," observed the lady quickly; "why do you imagine so?"

"Simply because a book-read student, who has been passing the best part of his life within the walls of a college, can be no match for men of courage and of action," replied Chazeul.

"Fie," replied Rose d'Albret, warmly; "Louis de Montigni has as much courage as any one. I can remember him before he went abroad, a wild rash boy, who used to frighten me by the daring things he did. But if you had any kindness in your nature, Chazeul, you would go out to help him--in case it be he who is attacked. He must be on the road even now; I wonder he is not arrived."

"I will go and speak with Monsieur de Liancourt about it," replied Chazeul; and leaving the priest and the lady together, he retired for a short time from the walls.

"Let us listen," said Rose d'Albret; and, leaning her arm upon the stone-work, she turned her ear towards the wood, bending down her bright eyes upon the ground, while the priest advanced, and standing beside her gazed at her for a moment, and then looked out over the country beyond.

During the whole conversation which had taken place, he had watched her closely; and, well acquainted with her character from infancy, he had read aright all that was passing in her mind. He saw that the coldness which she displayed towards the man selected for her future husband was no assumed indifference, none of the coquettish excitement which many a woman learns too early to administer to the passion of a favoured lover, none of that holding back which is intended to lead forward; none of that reluctance which is affected but to be overcome. He perceived clearly enough that she was indifferent to him, and perhaps somewhat more; that she felt for him no respect--but little esteem; and, though accustomed for some years to his society from time to time, and habituated to look upon her marriage with him as an act that was to be, that she now began to feel repugnance as the time approached for performing the contract, which had been entered into by others without her knowledge or consent. In short, he saw that, though she would obey, it would be unwillingly.

The priest regretted that it was so; for he felt no slight affection towards her, though, as too often happens, he was ready to do all he could, from other considerations, to promote a sacrifice which might destroy the happiness of one he loved almost as a child. The knowledge that she was indifferent towards Chazeul might grieve him, but it did not in the least induce him to pause in the course he had determined to pursue; and he proceeded, after a few moments given to thought, to draw forth her sentiments further, while, at the same time, he endeavoured to work some change in her opinions.

"He is certainly very handsome," said the priest abruptly; "do you not think so?"

"Who?" cried D'Albret, with a start. "Oh! Chazeul! Yes, perhaps he is; and yet not handsome either."

"Indeed," said Walter de la Tremblade, "I think I never saw finer features, or a more graceful form."

"No, not graceful, surely," said the young lady. "Well-proportioned, perhaps, and his features are all good, it is true; but yet, father, there is something that makes him not handsome."

"What?" asked the priest.

"Nay, I cannot well tell," answered Mademoiselle d'Albret; "perhaps it is that his eyes are too close together--but I was thinking of De Montigni, good father; I hope no mischance has befallen him."

"Oh! I trust not!" answered her companion. "And so, Rose, this is the only fault you can find with your lover's beauty, that his eyes are too close together! I can assure you, sweet lady, that the fair dames of Paris do not perceive that defect, and that you may have some trouble to keep the heart you have won."

"I wish--" said Rose d'Albret, but then she broke off suddenly, leaving the sentence unconcluded, and beginning again afresh, she added, "Heaven knows, good father, that I took no pains to win his love; and perhaps the best way to retain it when I am his wife, if ever that happens, will be to take no pains to keep it."

"It will then be a duty to take pains," answered the priest, somewhat sternly; "we are not born, my daughter, in this life, to seek nothing but our own pleasure and happiness. We are here to fulfil the important tasks assigned us by the Almighty, and clearly pointed out to us by the circumstances in which we are placed. To neglect them is sinful, to perform them coldly is reprehensible; and it is our greatest wisdom, as well as our strictest duty, to labour that our inclinations may go hand in hand with the performance of that which God has given us to do."

"Nay," said Rose, laying her hand gently on the sleeve of his gown, "you speak severely, good father. I do not see how it is so clearly pointed out that I should marry Nicholas de Chazeul; and I do wish that the ceremony were not hurried in this way. However, if I do wed him, depend upon it I shall follow your counsel, and do my best to love him. At all events," she added, raising her head somewhat proudly, "you may be sure, that under no circumstance will I forget what is due to him and to myself. I may be an unhappy wife, but I will never be a bad one."

"That I doubt not, that I doubt not," said the priest warmly; "but what I wish to point out to you is, the way to happiness, daughter; and depend upon it you can but find it in doing your duty cheerfully."

"I know it, my excellent friend," answered Rose, "and it shall be my endeavour so to act; but I could much desire before I take a vow to love any one, that I had some better means of knowing how far I can fulfil it."

"Oh! if you have the will to do so," answered father Walter, "it may easily be done."

"What!" she cried eagerly, "easy to love a man one cannot esteem or respect! I say not that such is the case in the present instance, father," she continued, seeing her companion fix his eyes upon her with a look of surprise and inquiry; "I only state a case that might be. Suppose I were to find him cold, selfish, heartless, cruel, vicious, base, how should I love him then?"

"But Monsieur de Chazeul is none of these," rejoined the priest.

"I say not that he is," answered Rose d'Albret; "I only say he may be for aught I know. I knew him not in youth; and in manhood I have seen him twice or thrice a year in circles where all men wear a mask. I would fain see him with his face bare, good father."

"Few women ever so see their lovers," rejoined the priest; "love is the greatest of all hypocrites."

"Perhaps that is true," said Rose; "yet time, if a woman's eyes be unblinded by her own feelings, does generally, soon or late, draw back the covering of the heart, so far as to show her some of the features. I have seen little: I would see more; for what I have seen makes me doubt."

"Indeed!" exclaimed her companion, "what have you perceived to raise suspicions? Some casual word, some slight jest, I warrant you; such as he spoke just now about his cousin. Idle words, daughter! idle words, upon which you must put no harsh interpretation."

"How often idle words betray the spirit within!" said Rose. "They are the careless jailers which let the prisoner forth out of his secret dungeon. They have cost many a king his crown, if history be true; many a woman reputation, aye, and perhaps, many a lover his lady's hand. But what I wish is to hear more than idle words, to see more than a masked face; and, I do beseech you, aid me to delay this marriage for a time. Why was I not told earlier? Why was all arranged without my knowledge? Louis de Montigni has been summoned back more than a month, and yet I have had but one week, one poor week, allowed me to prepare my thoughts, to nerve my heart for the great change of woman's existence. Marriage, to man, is but a pageant, a ball, a festival. To us, it is one of the sole events. It is birth or death to woman. I do beseech you, father, if you have ever loved me, if you have watched over my youth, counselled me rightly, enlightened and instructed my mind, led me on in honour, virtue, faith--I do beseech you, aid me but to delay this ceremony. I feel not rightly here," and she laid her hand upon her bosom.

"I cannot promise to do so, my sweet child," replied the priest. "The marriage is decided; your guardian's word is given; and I cannot but think it may be well for all, that the final seal be put to the engagement as soon as may be."

"Do you?" said Mademoiselle d'Albret; but there she stopped, for at that moment Chazeul appeared again at a little distance; and Walter de la Tremblade advanced towards him. The next moment, however, she murmured to herself, "They have gained him; and I am alone!"

A change came over her from that instant, and when, after speaking a word together, the other two rejoined her, she was cheerful if not gay.

"The Count declares it is some loose party stealing the deer," said Chazeul, as he approached; "and thought it needless to send out to see, as, in these days, when one can hardly secure the corn of one's fields, or the fruits of one's vineyard, it were a vain hope to keep the game of one's woods."

"Well, he knows best," replied Rose d'Albret; "and now, good cousin of Chazeul, do tell me, what is to be the fate of France? How often is your great friend the Duke to be defeated, before he succeeds in crushing heresy, excluding the King from the throne, and putting some one on that thorny seat instead?"

"He will be defeated, as you term it, no more, fair lady," answered the Marquis; "for if report speaks true, he is even now marching against Henry of Bourbon with a force that shall crush him and his apostates, as men tread down an ants' nest."

"Indeed?" asked his fair companion; "then there will be a battle soon?"

"Within three days, men think," replied Chazeul.

"And of course you will be present?" said Rose d'Albret.

But the colour rose in her lover's cheek while he replied, "Nay, I cannot quit my bride and give up my bridal for any cause."

"True! men would say it was an ungallant gallantry," she replied; "and yet ladies love heroic acts I have heard. God help us! We women, I believe, but little know what we would have."

"That is very true," said the priest; "and, therefore, fair daughter, it is wisely arranged that others should decide for them."

"Perhaps so," answered the lady; "but one thing is certain, they would do so, whether it were better for us or not."

They then walked on once or twice along the whole range of the rampart without speaking, each seemingly busy with thoughts which they did not choose to utter; till at length the lady resumed the conversation on a new theme: "Methinks, cousin of Chazeul, the court in its days of splendour, must have been a gay place."

"It was, indeed," replied the Marquis, glad of a subject which enabled him to speak more freely; "I know nought so brilliant on the face of the earth as was the court of Henry of Valois, some five years before his death; but I trust ere long we shall see a monarch who will hold as bright a one, without displaying his weaknesses; and then I trust Rose de Chazeul will shine amongst the very first in splendour, and in beauty."

"I am determined," she answered, with a smile, "if ever I appear at the court, to have a coronet of diamonds fashioned into roses, to bear out my name."

"Oh trust to me," cried Chazeul, "trust to me, to find devices which shall make you outshine the Queen."

"Ha! there come a party over the hills," cried Mademoiselle d'Albret. "It is De Montigni, I am sure;" and running forward to the edge of the rampart, she looked forth; but, as she did so, she murmured, "Do they think to buy and sell me for a goldsmith's toy?"

Her two companions joined her in a moment; and, as the party approached, she waved her hand as we have before related, gaily beckoning her cousin. He did not raise his eyes, however; and with an air of some mortification, she said, "He will not look up!"

"He is bashful," said Chazeul; "too much study makes but a timid gentleman."

"So they say," replied Rose d'Albret; "but let us in and meet him at all events."