with the trick than was exactly in accordance with his profession.

"Please you," he replied after a pause, "it has nothings to do with the tastes of Sir Everard" (the priest had dis carded the title "patron" since the avowal of James's senti-ll ments)," and yet it has; he will be most joyfully astonished, and, I warrant me, so will Mistress Rosalind and your ladyship."

"Holy father," interrupted Lady Sydney, with more than usual gravity, "I have lived too long in the world to feel or testify much astonishment at any thing: I leave those sensations to girls and—”

She paused for a title sufficiently dignified to apply to her husband, whom she honoured for her own sake, and yet in accordance with his pursuits, which she despised; and Father Frank filled up the pause by drawing a letter from his vest. It would be needless to describe the change that passed over the countenance of Lady Sydney: in an instant her proud dignity and coldness had gone; she sprang from her seat and extended her hand with the panting eagerness with which a lover seeks to grasp the reply to the first sonnet his heart has penned to a beloved but absent mistress. Before the flush of joyful anticipation had descended from her brow, her lips paled and quivered, and the haughty woman, but devoted mother, could only articulate the words, My son!" when she sank back into her seat, overpowered by the hope mingled with anxiety which is inseparable from the handwriting of a cherished object and friend.

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"Captain Sydney wrote to me, poor sinner that I am! fearing the surprise would be too much for you and for my honoured friend, saying, that now the tumult occasioned by the acquittal of the most heretical bishops had somewhat subsided in the camp at Hounslow, he had received leave of absence for a few days, and that he would gladly avail himself of the permission to visit a home from which he had been so long estranged."

Lady Sydney seized the letter, and pressed it to her lips, ejaculating, "Now, the Almighty be praised! Blessed Mary, I thank thee! My beloved child!"-and then eagerly perused its contents. When she had ended, the expression of joy and triumph had passed from her pale brow, and she

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sat abstracted and absorbed, until recalled to herself by question from Father Frank.

"Heard your ladyship how sped the Duchess of Moder ince her return from her pilgrimage to Loretto, to off P prayers that a succession might be given to the crown "No: how should I hear, holy father; or, hearing, thin now of it? And yet I would that the tone and feeling of hi letter lacked nothing."

"Feeling," repeated the friar; "dear lady, I see no lack of feeling in his letter. He was ever full of feeling, from the time he used to climb my knee, holding a linnet in his hand-you remember the linnet--and saying so prettily to the bird, that it might pull hair enough out of my eyebrows to build it a nest."

"The spirit I could wish," continued Lady Sydney, without noticing the reminiscence of Father Frank, "it is not in him; and yet 'tis very hard to judge. But I shall see him-see him once more; my noble, noble boy!"

She then again turned over the written page, and, for the first time, her eye rested on the date. She started, and grew pale; then, fixing her eye upon the friar's kind, inexpressive countenance, she slowly inquired if her calculation was correct, and if the present was the twentieth of the month. He replied in the affirmative. The lady rose from her seat, and paced up and down the chamber without any visible intent; then taking from off the table a silver bell, she rang it hastily. The summons was answered by a page in rich but sombre livery.

"Tell Mistress Rosalind I would speak with her."

"Please you, madam, Mistress Rosalind is away with my master and Ralph Bradwell after some birds."

"Father Frank," said the lady, when the lad had withdrawn, "you have ever been a faithful friend to my father's house. In the days of your adversity it was remembered to you; in the days of your prosperity I trust it will not be forgotten."

"Madam, you say what is just, and, by God's blessing, you will not be disappointed."

"Mistress Rosalind-" the lady paused; Father Frank filled up the sentence.

"Truly, Mistress Rosalind Sydney is--"

"Call her not Sydney," interrupted the proud dame; "call

her not Sydney; albeit the name is heretical, 'tis a noble name, and should not be degraded."

"Please you then, my lady, how is the maiden to be designated? She has ever been acknowledged the niece of his honour Sir Everard."

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Listen, sir. The terms of her reception here are well known to you and to herself: the illegitimate offspring of my husband's profligate brother should never have sat at my table, were it not that Sir Everard promised to that brother on his death-bed that he would nurture and protect his child. She was, in conformity with that pledge, brought to England; transported with her nurse from an obscure Irish cabin; and suffered to remain as one of the family, to dress and associate as if she were of legal birth. I do not deny that there have been times when my heart has yearned towards the girl; when I have almost wished—”

The lady again paused; and the priest, who knew her proud heart well, had ample time to consider why it was that, just as her son was on the eve of arriving, she should talk and think of Mistress Rosalind, who was nominally left to the management of her uncle-which signified that she was left to her own direction in all other things, so she accompanied him in his morning rambles, and played his favourite airs on the harpsichord in the evening. Sir Everard cared but little how her time was occupied during mid-day, if these pleasant services were duly performed.

"Father," recommenced the lady abruptly, "hast any belief in omens--in the mysteries of the horoscope-in the sin of witchcraft?"

"Of a truth," replied the friar, perplexed between the necessity for humouring his patroness and his desire to appear strong in mind, "of a truth, the stars are not placed in the heavens for nothing; and as to omens, I myself have heard the death-watch tick-tick-tick! A very disagreeable noise, believe me, lady, is that of the death-watch; but all these things can be overcome, exorcised, by the blessing of the holy saints, and laid in the Dead Sea without fear or molestation, save to themselves."

Lady Sydney looked contemptuously on the poor priest; her natural strength of mind was perpetually warring with her superstition, and she knew not upon which to cling-now trusting to the one, now confiding to the other. She re

VOL. I.-D

garded Father Frank more from habit than esteem, and often convicted him, in her own mind, for want of zeal; she seemed irresolute as to whether she might train him to her purpose, yet without assistance she could not accomplish the object upon which she was bent.

"The lady of the priory of St. Mary's is well known to you?"

"She is; and a more devout woman your ladyship could not have named."

"I take it for granted that she remembers me?"

"It is not easy to forget so noble a patroness."

"She receives young ladies to complete their educa

tion ?"

"She does--but she is very particular--only those of uncontaminated blood have ever experienced the sanction of her countenance, or the safeguard of her care.”

"Think you," inquired the lady, somewhat sternly, "that she would hesitate to receive Mistress Rosalind, if I desired it?"

"Send Mistress Rosalind to a convent !" exelaimed Father Frank, in undisguised astonishment.

"The young woman's education has been too long neglected, and must be seen to. I should have thought of it before-but no time must be lost. Father, you must convey Mistress Rosalind to St. Mary's this very day."

"Have you forgotten, madam, that she is of heretical faith?"

"Are you afraid of her conversion? Methinks, good father, you lack zeal.”

"Now Heaven forgive you, lady," replied the friar, "it is an evil accusation;-but the laws are strict."

"This will render them less so," said Lady Sydney, drawing a purse, heavy with gold, from her girdle, and plaIcing it in the friar's hand. "See that you tell the holy mother I desire the girl to be treated with all courtesy and kindness; my only command is, that she be not suffered to leave the convent, on any pretext whatever, without my permission."

"But, Sir Everard," hinted the meek padre.

"Sir Everard, sir, will agree with me in the necessity of removing this child instantly. It cannot but be known to you that more than one of the court gallants will accompany

my son here; think you that a maid, and such a maid as Rosalind, under such peculiar circumstances, would be altogether safe, even under this roof, while in the society of such as constitute the camp and court of our blessed king? You know, holy father, that for a time he was himself joined to Baal, and the worshippers thereof; and though, by much chastening, he has arrived at a knowledge of the true faith, and hath no more communing with evil, yet his followers, young, gay, and thoughtless, can hardly be fitting companions for a modest maiden."

"Then Mistress Rosalind only remains away while they abide here?"

Lady Sydney looked at the friar as though she would read his inmost thoughts, and replied, "As she may desire. In one word, father, will you do my bidding? It is for Rosalind's own safety; and I promise that after I have spoken to Sir Everard, he will be in no way displeased. The girl is gone with the baronet, as you know, on some foolish excursion; you can wile her away either in a boat or in one of our carriages, it matters not which; only thisif she return here, there will be crying, and leave-taking, and all that farewelling which children love; and in the mean time my son may come; and I tell you, father, they shall never meet!"

As the lady ceased, the door of her oratory flew open, and Alice Murrough stood, unbidden, undesired, upon the threshold; her eyes gleamed with an expression of exultation, of triumph almost, which she did not endeavour to conceal.

It was a singular picture,-both women tall, stately, and powerful-both agreeing in the same belief-both the victims of superstition-both proud of their descent, and yet so dissimilar in bearing and in conduct. The fire that lurked and lingered in the deep eyes of the lady of Sydney Pleasance, and which great events alone could kindle, burned with a continued fierceness in the restless orbs of Alice Murrough; a fierceness so intense that it threatened its own extinction, and gave her at times the appearance of a maniac. Both were fearful women; and as they stood, the one opposite the other, Father Frank, with a devout cross, wished himself anywhere but where he was.

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"You said, they shall never meet,' repeated Alice more than once. "You said, lady, 'they shall never meet;' but I say that what is doomed is doomed; do yer best, do