Arabella; "do thou watch for him, Maud-admit him and deny me to all else. Thou comprehendest!-It is but to say that I would be alone, and thy task is done." "It is not for me to deny you service, dearest Lady," said Maud hesitating-" yet I pray you consider."

a month again, for my heart is sick already with the boding cawing of that excellent Scottish rook, the Lady Jane Drummond, on this very theme. Patience? I tell thee, girl, patience sits with her teeth on edge, and rejects sour counsel! Oh! lay aside all wholesome irksomeness! Speak to my heart, Maud, speak to my heart, for I do assure thee I love him fervently." "I trust, dearest Lady, nevertheless-' "Take nought on trust, Maud, I counsel thee," said the Lady Arabella, desperately jesting down her own disquietude. "I tell you I do ardently love this gentle-God for my guide, I do freely avow to thee, I think man, and would the Heavens so far prosper our wishes as to unite us, I think never prayer of mine should weary them for more."

"Speak not so, my dearest mistress," said the waiting damsel, in a tone of earnest deprecation, "consider how the King, when formerly you entertained divers projects of marriage"

"Oh! Maud I have indeed considered, and I find him the noblest gentleman in England! I would, indeed, I had considered less of it, for thy terrible forebodings disquiet, though they cannot shake me. I believe, in truth, ye both mean me well, and yet, as I would desire

there be not two such boding birds in broad England, as thou and the Lady Jane Drummond!"

"Her Ladyship is indeed your well-wisher, madam,” answered Maud gravely, "and trust me, dearest Lady, a fancy so briefly conceived-the fancy of a month-a month could cure."

"Never!" said the Lady resolvedly, “thou doest not know me. Why think you, had I ever loved any of these suitors who have hitherto been spoken of, that the Christmas gifts, or Christmas revels wherewith the

could ever have attracted mine? Again girl, I say thou

of temper nor quality to consider him fairly, or thou would'st see that my fate is ascertained?"

"Would, would it were indeed so established, madam," said Maud sorrowfully, "and yet—"

"Ah! of these," said the Lady, blushing deeply, "of these I can only think to shame myself that my heart should have lent itself so idly where it nothing felt!"; "Wherefore then, madam, may I ask with rever-King purposeth to divert the attention of light feminitie ence ?" "Wherefore? Oh! Maud, to be myself to be free-doest not know me!-And oh! Maud, thou art neither to hear never more the Scottish eloquence of jealous King James-to see suspicion never more mar the promise of my young cousin, the Prince Henry-never more to be the pensioner of the royal bounty-never more to have my liberal nature mewed up by frugal bounds-never more to endure the taunts of my own high spirit, that scorns its own state-and, oh! more than all, to dwell in mine own halls, beloved and free! Thoughts like these may well excuse the easiness which, doubtless, all condemn-the entertainment of those silly-projects didst thou call them ?-But these, Maud, these were nothing! Oh! never hast thou loved, maiden, if thou knowest not that to affection such motives are indeed nothing. Seymour, noble Seymour, is but a young brother, and his means are slender; and yet, believe me, girl, rather would I clasp his hand at the altar than to mount the Polish throne."

The damsel remained silent, for this was a new phase of her Lady's fortunes, and moreover a secret pleading apt to be latent in female hearts, arose within her, and interested her strangely in this ill-starred business.

"Answer me, Maud," said the high-spirited Ladyanswer me with a promise to lend thyself to my wishes, or plainly let me see that I must count no more upon the fidelity of my long trusted maiden." "That shall you never see, madam," replied the girl firmly-“ yet—”

"Yet if this affair come ever to his Majesty's ear, what will then be said unto Maud Gurton? Was not that thy thought? Believe me, girl, there will then be a loftier quarry struck at."

"Now, Heaven forgive you, madam!” said Maud hastily, and coloring to the very brow, “give me your commands, and depend upon me as heretofore."

"Why this is indeed thyself, my faithful Maud. So now to bed, girl, for thou hast already watched late, and art weary, and to-morrow-to-morrow? Oh, how lingeringly dear sounds that word now upon mine ear!" said the Lady lapsing into reverie. Her attendant glided away.

"I tell thee, Maud," resumed the Lady Arabella, after a brief pause, during which she had appeared to be particularly restless-"I tell thee, Maud, there is help to be had of thee. I have promised to see him here and alone, and to hear that which he hath to say." "Now the Heaven's forbid it, madam! Alone say you, and at this hour? Bethink you-the danger-the-charge so serious in those days, in the eyes of Majesty, the discredit-"

"Discredit said'st thou?" exclaimed the Lady disdainfully, "and at this hour? Why, what makest thou me, simplest Maud? Has then thy Lady so borne her like a light-minded French woman, that thou should'st thus question the conduct of an English Princess? 1 said here, and alone, truly-but not to-night."

Brief was the time after this night, which was that preceding candlemas, ere the Lady Arabella was again called before her old tormentors of the council; and William Seymour, also, was summoned to answer a

that it was little less than treason to have committed the imprudence it implied. Somewhat pacified, however, by the assurance of the parties, that they had never intended marriage without his Majesty's approbation, King James, for the time, pardoned them, and suffered them to remain at liberty upon the faith of such promises as the anxiety of the conjuncture extorted from them.

"Now, God be praised!" said the damsel, much relieved, for she had begun to think of the royal indigna- Two months afterwards, the Lady Arabella again sat tion with some dismay, should a proceeding so unusal at night in her chamber (now no longer in the court) ever meet detection. "But how then does your Lady-alone, and reading by the light of a lamp. Her features ship mean?" were paler than when she had burst upon the affrighted

"He comes hither to-morrow," replied the Lady | Maud, in her lodging at the Palace, fresh from a festi

easy escape ?" he added, taking her hand; "oh! no, Arbelle, no! not easy-nor vainly to be risked again. If we must trouble the heads of our rulers, let it not be said that we bore their wrath, while we gained nothing. No! Lady, let us bind ourselves in that golden chain, which Kings cannot break, nor time untie. It was to urge thee to this, Arbelle, that I came hither to nightto tell thee that the secret altar is prepared. Wed me now, and the good King will pardon what he cannot prevent-and then we will retire from the court to some green solitude, where, with letters to instruct us, and duties and affections to hallow existence, we may at least dwell in honorable retirement--all to each otherfree-unwatched-happy! Shall it not be so, sweet Arbelle? Shall we not together leave this court, where loveliness withers, and wit hath yielded the palm to pedantry? Shall we not relinquish this miserable scene of hollow festivities, for a life-enduring blessedness, and a quiet home?"

val and high in hopes, even then, however, checkered "Easy call you it?" said Seymour. Methinks, with terrible misgivings. Even whilst she read, a gazer dearest, as I look upon thy face, I behold the pallid upon her lonely studies might have fancied the pen-traces of sorrow and anxiety. Call you this indeed an siveness of her face a shade, cast from some sad tale within the volume in her hand, save that the thin and pallid lineaments had already caught that earnest and somewhat sharpened outline, which explains more to an observant eye, than even the eloquence of sorrow. Suddenly the fair student threw down her book and listened. Some sound had caught her ear with which it was evidently joyfully familiar. Color mounted to her cheek, and she half rose from her chair. "It is-it is his voice!" she exclaimed, and full of agitation, she sank back into her seat. Then, had the reader been present, he might have heard stealthy steps along an outer chamber, and have afterwards beheld the face of a goodly gentleman at the opened door. He advanced into the apartment, and the meeting between him and the Lady was silently joyful. Their eyes shone, but their lips moved not, and only in the clasp of their united hands, might they express feelings to which neither gave utterance. At length the pleasure and surprise of the first meeting having subsided, the Lady motioned her lover to a seat, and placing herself beside him, manifested by her dappling cheek and tremulous manner, an agitation beyond that of gladness, and which not even the murmured affection of Seymour could at first soothe to quiet.

"It is the first time we have met," said the lover, smiling, "since the royal match-breaker's suspicions were aroused."

The Lady Arabella blushed.

"And I have not earlier ventured to seek the loveliest and the dearest-the lady of my heart," added Seymour, “because I would not-that my presence should bring disquiet unto her's, through the vigilance of our enemies."

It were not difficult to anticipate the answer of the Lady Arabella. Consent from a nature so loving and so free was yielded almost without a fear, and a private marriage was resolved upon, as the sole means of securing that union, to which each looked as to the certainty of happiness.

"But there is danger for thee, William," said the Lady; "infinite danger if the King, after his past declaration of his will respecting us, should at last dis

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"That I am happier than his crown could make me without thee, Arbelle? Fear not, love! I have hitherto been, it is true, but a peaceful student; but there hath ever been that in my heart, which riseth in the presence of danger, as the waves to the joyous winds. "It is enough that I see you now, William," an- Fear not for me. Why, sweet one, is not parting our swered the Lady.

"And, oh! how very cheering it is to see a kind face, that looketh lovingly into mine, after the evil gaze and cold bearing of those about me."

"Hath then the time been so wearily spent, dearest?" said the Knight, "and who looketh coldly. on thee, Lady of my heart?"

worst danger?"

If you, who read this little chronicle of life's chief common-place-misfortune-have ever been in circumstances where, without power to modify your fortunes, or sympathy to soothe the irritations of a wayward fate, you have been continually subject to the wearing influence of suspicions and unvarying harshness, you

joyful, and grateful affection, with which Arabella Stuart received the first breathings of hope--the first promise of deliverance, and, dearer than all, the unsleeping protection and tenderness of one who desired no greater happiness than to adopt as his own her fate.

"His Majesty the council-the court-all, Sey-may conceive, what I shall not describe, the warm, and mour, all but thee! But oh! William, what if I tell thee of his Majesty's interview with me--the Prince Henry being present-how bonnie King Jamie scolded me in gude Scotch, until, by mine honor, my southern ears were fain to relieve my burdened mind, by refusing to interpret unto it his Majesty's rage. And how submissively I simpered, and how dutifully professed, I can hardly hope to make Master William Seymour comprehend, except I refer him to his own letter to the privy council, wherein—”

"Wherein, Arbelle, his thought for thee outran his care for his own pure fame-wherein he spake like the young brother of a churl, rather than the son of a princely house, and yet was not dishonored, in being more true to his Lady than himself."

"Oh! Master Seymour, you have a ready wit!" said the Lady laughing; "but we were fortunate, however either may have managed, in achieving so easy an escape."

Months rolled away, and the Lady Arabella was the wife of a young brother, of slender fortunes. Their intercourse was restrained by needful precaution, yet often they met, and in the uncertain blessing of their romantic and unprotected union, the unfortunate Princess found more happiness than had ever before fallen to her lot. She, for whose brow coronets and crowns had been so often proffered, had now in the possession of a devoted heart, found a bliss which a throne might not have afforded, and all dependent as they were-exposed to the buffetings of a thousand chances--in a bond unacknowledged, and a danger ever impendingthey loved and hoped-and to love and hope, is to be happy.

majesty's opinion, the letter of one for whom nature had exerted her beautiful pathos, that statesmen might award--not justice to the gentle object of its endeavored protection-but a measured applause to the language of earnest supplication-the appeal of human tenderness and human grief. The Prince, Henry, touched by nature, but taught by man, added his admiration to the tribute of the council, but gave his approbation to measures which shut out hope.

But the spring of the year passed away. The joyous | with the narrow-minded monarch; yet how nobly eloseason vanished, and with the spring time of naturequent was the prisoner's defence of her own most sacred faded the uncertain happiness of a fated creature. In tie-how powerful her pleading for that little boon of the month of July, ere the hapless lady had been for happiness which is so often denied by one of God's one year the wife of William Seymour, the King and creatures to another, even when most easy to bestow. council were in possession of a fact, in which the sum With the cool judgment of a pedantic critic, the King total of their earthly good was comprehended. Per-commended to advisers, skilled to conform to his haps the eyes of vigilant enemies had been upon them; perhaps they had themselves been unguarded; but, however betrayed, their union was no longer secret, and the cautious jealousy of the King was in full exercise against them. Pious James had decided to sever a bond sanctified by the church of which he was himself the head, and the laws of England were still so nig. gardly in their provisions for the welfare of the subject, that the rulers of the realm, without the possibility of appeal, passed sentence against two, who had, how- Vainly did the lady's loving heart bear up against ever, transgressed no known or established ordinance. misfortune. The sap of endurance was gone, and desThey were prisoners of state-the Princess in the pair was slowly gathering over her joyous nature. A house of Sir Thomas Parry at Lambeth-Mr. Seymour | letter from one of the few who now regarded her with in the tower. Neither was, however, subjected to very sympathy-the Lady Jane Drummond-was a terrible rigorous confinement. Seymour, at large in the tower, addition to the disquietude of the captive; and if in was taught to consider this restraint the mildest inflicher gayer hours she had been accustomed to consider tion which could have been anticipated at the hands of the Scottish dame "a boding bird," the gloomy, but angry Majesty; and the Lady Arabella at the house of just anticipations with which she now honored her fallen Sir Thomas Parry, was regarded rather as a guest than state, were well calculated to strengthen that early prea captive. Through the faithful service of their respec- possession. Yet kindly thanks repaid the small sum of tive attendants, they still interchanged letters expres- trouble and sympathy vouchsafed her by this Lady, sive of their unshaken and mutual affection. And this and the needle-work with which she was wont to beindulgence was now the greatest solace permitted them guile the heaviness of her hours, was adapted to the by a fate which had never promised aught to the Lady fancy, and offered for the acceptance of their majesties, Arabella, which it had not afterwards, gloomily with- in the fond but futile hope that thus some former assodrawn. ciation might be renewed favorable to one who was once of their pleasures, and bound to them by blood. She had yet to learn that policy has no heart.

"Thine eyes are swollen with weeping, pretty Maud," said Arthur Evans, one morning when Maud Gurton issued from the apartment of her Lady, tears still upon features which Arthur at least had learned to love"What is the matter, my Maud? Is thy Lady ill ?"

Meanwhile, hope remained-hope, the last earthly blessing to desert us; and there were moments when, inspired by the gentle teaching of his Lady, Seymour could look beyond the sad circumstances of the harassed present. Then the limits of his prison, the cold aspect of his keepers, the cares of his severed heart, his exclusion from the world, and its trumpet-call to action, all the evils of his early darkened lot, faded from his "Not ill in body, Arthur-at least illness is not my sight; and days of royal favor, of merited popularity, Lady's chief evil," said Maud; "but sorely, sorely is of fortune, and of fame, glided into their place-and a my Lady tried-and while she maketh such moan as it stately home in England's green retirements, a love-acheth my heart to hear, how can I choose but weep ?" blessed life of honor and utility, flowed before his mind like the radiant course of a prosperous history. Of all these was Arabella-his own, however sundered from his side-the presiding enchantress, through whose beneficent influence the spell obtained its beauty and its blessing. Alas! the princely home, the splendid destiny were indeed in store for him; but with them the magic was not to remain. The deep affections of his youth were indeed to mingle with this shining future; but another was to fill the place of his earliest beloved, and his first hopes and dearest blessings to sleep in silence, but not in forgetfulness, by the side of his loving, his gentle Arabella.

"It is indeed a piteous case, dearest Maud," said Evans soothingly, "and I grieve the more for thine honorable Lady, that she hath ever been so kind to thee. Ah! happy are we who are not elevated above security!"

"But whilst my Lady suffers," said Maud passionately, "what is security to me? Thinkest thou, Arthur Evans, that I, the sworn servant of her Ladyship, will ever take thought for myself, whether of safety or of happiness, whilst she lieth in disgrace and sorrow ? Tell no such matter unto Maud Gurton!"

"Speak not so sharply, Maud," said Arthur, coloring a little-"I meant thee no offence. But if I have unNobly and generously, meantime, did the injured wittingly angered thee, I had better take my leave now, Princess plead with the state a cause to herself so pass-and remove the annoy that vexeth thee." ing dear. No act of kindness on the part of the king, "Go, then, if such be your will," said Maud, fresh even though the result of prudence or of necessity, tears bursting forth at this reproachful sally. "Go, were forgotten now, when his arbitrary exercise of master Evans, and leave in the very depth of disquiet authority might well have obliterated from the heart one for-for whom-" of the unhappy lady every trace of gratitude. Duty, "For whom I would peril my life a thousand times," respect, were still preserved, in every communication I said Evans, much moved. "Forgive me, Maud—I was

wrong, I confess; but indeed, Maud, indeed, it seemed | answer this letter, let her trust to me, and I will do her to me that your tone was of the sharpest-" errand without suspicion."

"I meant not unkindly, Arthur, even if I seemed so to speak," said the placable damsel, easily yielding the demanded pardon; "but here are fresh troubles come upon us, and my heart is greatly tried."

"Fresh troubles, Maud? but how?"

"All is discovered again. The King-God only knoweth how far his ears do reach-hath lighted on my Lady's correspondence with Master Seymour, and so greatly enraged is his Majesty, that he hath sent again to my Lady, and she is given in charge to my Lord the Bishop of Durham, and we are to be banished to his Lordship's see forthwith. And this breaking up of my Lady's correspondence with Master William-as if the poor papers that tell to each other how they fare, and wile away some few of the sick fancies from my Lady's heavy heart, could overthrow the state, or in aught disturb his Majesty's repose. And now her Ladyship doth nothing but wring her hands, and so despair, that I-I—Arthur, I cannot bear it! She will never survive this blow."

"Cheer up, Maud," said Evans, after a few minutes reflection. "I am, as thou knowest, but a poor gentleman; but if they lack not courage, help is often in the hands of the poor. Bid your Lady feign illness; her physician will, for pity, confirm her pleading; and thus the journey being delayed, we gain time

"Is there danger ?" said Maud apprehensively. "For me, Maud, but little-and thou would'st risk much, I warrant me, in thy Lady's service ?"

"It were meet that, in mine own person, I did so," answered Maud, with downcast eyes; "It is my duty, and, for gratitude to my lady, it should be my willing service but thy life, Arthur-thy safety-these it can never be my duty to put in hazard.”

"Now, a blessing on thy kind heart, my own Maud," cried Arthur Evans, printing upon her deep hued, but somewhat delicate cheek, an honest kiss, which did not pale its roses. Maud faintly repressed this outbreak of affection, and Evans respectfully deferred to her coyness.

"Nay, Maud, thy pardon! I meant not to offend thee. But truly, this thy kind care of me found its way to my heart, and I have loved thee long and truly enough to take this freedom without angering thee. But for the letter-fear not-there is no danger, and I have taken my measures wisely. Only, Maud, let thy lady beware how she name me in her letters. If I be discovered by any mishap, thou knowest her love and Master Seymour's must thenceforward glow unwritten. Care thou for this, Maud, and the rest is easy."

A glad woman was Maud Gurton, when she saw a faint gleam of pleasure upon the features of her lady

“For what?" asked Maud, in the extremity of be- features wasted and pale, and for many days strangers wilderment.

"Let time hatch that egg," answered Arthur, smiling. "Meanwhile I will enter myself of the Bishop's service, if possible. I am already known to his household, and my suit to thee, Maud, will appear a sufficient motive. But hasten to thy Lady-offer her my service, and assure her that she hath in Arthur Evans a true, though an humble friend-and a hostage for his fidelity in Maud Gurton."

to bright influences; and the thanks with which she paid the service of Master Evans, and the quiet confidence which she manifested in the sympathy of Maud, deeply gratified her faithful attendants.

A month's delay, the hard-wrung indulgence of the King and Council was vouchsafed to the Lady Arabella, in spite of his Majesty's previous declaration that "she should proceed to Durham, if he were King." Her Episcopal guardian, meanwhile, journeyed onward, to prepare for her reception; but Arthur Evans, like his Lady, being opportunely ill, was left at Highgate, where Arabella Stuart remained in confinement. Slowly, however, the Bishop's absence operated a cure

the household train. Maud Gurton had now time and opportunity to aid her fertile brain, and Evans, only subtracting such moments as he dedicated to the duties of courtship, devoted this interval to an ingenious and uninterrupted interchange of letters for the severed lovers. With his aid and advice, Seymour and Arabella planned that escape, which daring, rash, and hazardous as it was, was yet attended by so many favoring circumstances-among them the grant of another month's delay to the Lady Arabella, who was already apparently preparing to commence the journey to Durham.

The plea of illness was accordingly put in. But kings are little disposed to yield to the caprices of nature, and the journey towards Durham was commenced-the Lady lying in a litter, and in such a state of wild and reckless grief, that when they had proceed-upon the sick man; and Arthur again appeared among ed as far as Highgate, the travellers halted, and the physician returned to town to make report of her Ladyship's condition. Meanwhile Arthur Evans had secured a place in the Bishop's household, and according to his order, overtook the cavalcade at Highgate, where he was directed to attach himself to the train about the captive Lady, and whence it was arranged that he should accompany her to Durham. But before he left London, he had, at risk of life, and in disguise, established a communication with Seymour, and he now brought with him what he knew was the best restorative for the hapless Lady-a letter from her husband. Entrusting it only to the pretty hands of Maud Gurton-hands the more delicate, that their chief service had hitherto been the adjustment of silken folds, or the arrangement of costly gems-he was rewarded-or what amounts to the same thing, he thought so, by the brightest gleam of pleasure he had for many days seen upon the face of the faithful Maud.

"Yet, Maud, he said," "caution thy lady not to lighten her mood. Bid her preserve a patient show of sadness, and continue apparently ill; and if she will to

"Maud," said Evans, as, two nights before the projected departure of the Princess from Highgate, they walked alone, "if now thy Lady bear a bold heart, her path shall be smooth and easy hereafter. Take to her this letter from Master Seymour, and this package-it is the apparel thou bad'st me purchase; and I have had it cut as nearly to her Ladyship's size, as thy measures and my judgment could order it. Bid her bear a bold heart-a cheerful mind, Maud-pray her to believe that freedom and safety are worth the hazard."

"Doubt her not," answered Maud, with prompt confidence. "There is no risk in the world which my Lady would not brave for this end!"

The watermen obeyed in silence, and all conversation regarding their own situation being suspended by their presence, Evans endeavored to divert her attention to | the objects on the bank. The unfortunate Lady, however, soon found herself unequal to the task he would have imposed on her, and lapsing into silence, she resigned herself to her own anxieties. As they ap

The event justified her assurance. At three o'clock on the following day, two gentlemen reached an obscure inn on the road to London. One, a slight youth, dressed in the cumbrous fashion of travellers at that day, seemed weak and ill, and was with difficulty per-proached Gravesend, Evans turned to the rowers. suaded by his more robust companion to take a cup of wine, whilst an attendant led out two strong horses for the road.

"The gentleman will scarce hold out to London," said Mark Barnaby, the idle ostler, who held the stirrup for the youth to mount: "Better not ride to-night, sir." "Trouble not thy wise head with that matter," said the taller horseman sharply, as he attained his seat. "And for thee, Thomas, I must pray thee ride on. I have waited upon thy illness on the road until it grows late, and I have business that craves despatch."

"How fare you, madam?" he said, when they had ridden out of ear-shot. "If you can only hold out to Blackwall”

"I am better-far better, Evans," replied the Lady Arabella. "The very thought of freedom renews health in my veins, and methinks I am far stronger than when we came out. But lose no time, Evans, for my frame is full of nervous terrors."

"It is but two hours' ride, madam," answered Evans, pushing on however as he spoke; "and Maud promises to preserve your secret longer."

"Lads," he said, "do you think you could stretch on to Tilbury? My mind is that my brother here is too ill to journey again by land, and I must get him to my father's, hard by Lee, with as little fatigue as possible. What say you? Double labor, double fare."

"Done!" said the foremost rower. "Pull on, Jemmy Dyson for a double fare."

When they arrived at Tilbury, Evans again attempted to urge the watermen on to Lee.

"Master," said the spokesman, "not for a gold noble! I have not broken bread since morning, and I must get a horn of ale, and my supper before I make another stroke. Isn't it so, Jemmy Dyson?-we goes no further!"

"Not a boat-length," answered Jemmy Dyson; and they pulled in shore.

'But, Jemmy, since that is your name," said Arthur, "my brother has been sorely distempered for months, and even now he risks much in journeying to see our father, an old man, and bed-ridden, near to Lee."

"If he's bed-ridden, master, more's the pity, say I," replied Jemmy; "but that seems to me to be a reason

"Yet, hasten, Evans, I pray you! Better I had never why master there need'nt be so hard pressed to reach escaped than be retaken."

"This shall not be, noble lady," returned her guide. "Never surely had love so holy as your Ladyship's an end so unprosperous. Let us hope for better things! And touching speed-this rapid trot suffices. We must not seem to be flying-that might arouse suspicion."

They rode on, after this, for sometime in silence; but Arthur observed that the color had risen in the Lady's cheek, and that she bore well an exercise of late so unwonted.

"Your Ladyship endures this journey beyond my hopes," he said in an encouraging tone. "Let us but reach Lee, according to the arrangement of Master Seymour, and, God and the wind favoring, we will place you beyond the reach of your enemies."

"Oh Arthur Evans," said the Princess, "if this enterprise be indeed successful--if again I be in safety, and folded to the heart of my husband, then indeed all that a poor knight, and poorer lady can offer thee, will be too little to mark their gratitude!"

"Do not speak thus, honored Lady," answered Evans; "it gladdens my heart to act in your service, and, for the enterprise, it is more than half-achieved already."

For another hour they proceeded-the lady full of the most restless anxiety, and the heart of Evans throbbing with the most intense suspense-though he endeavored to conceal it. At six they reached Blackwall. A boat with servants awaited them, and Evans assisted the Lady to dismount, and supported her into the wherry.

"This youth is ill, my lads," he said to the boatmen. "I am impatient to get him home. Push out, and row down the river, to Gravesend."

him in a hurry, because, if he's bed-ridden, master, you know he can't rise to nurse his sick son ?"

"True, by all tides, Jemmy Dyson!" cried his fellow, laughing aloud.

Nevertheless, master, pursued Jemmy," his heart mollified even by this slight applause of his jest, "only wait this night at Tilbury here, and when day breaks-”

"That will scarce answer my turn, Master Dyson," replied Evans. "But, see-here are two gold nobles instead of one-will you not pull us to Lee at once for the two?"

Jemmy demurred.

"Lord! Jemmy," cried his partner, answering a glance of inquiry which the doubting Dyson directed towards him; "we don't often pull for fares like this. Let me but run up to Bess's house, and bring down a jug and a ration, and then-if the gentleman says so-on to Lee."

He sprang on shore as he spoke, and disappeared. Moments of suspense, that endured like centuries followed--the more agonizing, that even the expression of impatience was impossible. The Lady and Evans exchanged glances, and whilst they waited the return of the boatman, neither spoke.

At last he appeared running, reached the waterside, and handed a jug and a small wallet to Jemmy Dyson. Leaping in after them, he caught the oar, and, assisted by his fellow, pushed out once more into the stream.

Another hard pull, and they landed at Lee. Evans paid the watermen the stipulated reward, and saw them push off from shore, and strike into the river with the purpose of putting back to Tilbury. It was with a feeling almost of exultation that he pointed out to his