too much honoured in your service to feel aught wanting to ennoble it. Fitz-walter is ready again to put his lance in rest, and run a tilt in your cause, in a more glorious field than the narrow lists of Westminster or Windsor. no more of these child's sports— thoughts to manlier deeds."

Think

-we must now turn our

"Ah, noble prince, my heart is full, and the sight of that now faded favour, which I see his lordship with constant gallantry still wears in his cap, recalled those halcyon days with a too acute remembrance. That favour, Lord Fitz-walter, marks an ungracious contrast to your fidelity -it changes its colour."

"Which I never shall, as heaven is my hope," said Fitzwalter, placing his hand on his heart, while Benina Beyling, who had stood timidly blushing behind her mistress, felt her brain turn, as she almost sunk with excess of happiness.

"Come forward, Benina," said Jacqueline, "and take Lord Fitz-walter into your care. She will, I warrant her, my lord, give special heed to your discourse, for England's sake and for your own, though her gratitude may not be garrulous. Van Monfoort, tend well this gallant lord, he shall be in your charge to-day. My page, and my lord bishop's here, will do the office of chamberlains in this our Court of the Zevenvolden. Now, gracious prince, come with his reverence and ourselves into our sylvan closet of council. Alas! what bitter mockery does fate make of princes and their pomp!"

The

These concluding words were uttered in a tone of deep sadness, that suddenly broke down, as it were, the forced gayety of the sentence or two which preceded them. lovely speaker, whom misfortune had taught to moralize, entered the pavilion followed by Glocester and the bishop, while Fitz-walter and Van Monfoort, under Benina's auspices, took possession of another tent, hastily thrown up within a short distance, but just out of hearing of that conference on which the more elevated triumvirate immediately entered,

CHAPTER. II.

THE bishop, a selfish person, quite unconscious of his own insignificance and dulness, began the discourse; and feeling himself, as it were, at home, did the duties of host, as such men always do, by placing themselves and their affairs in the post of honour. He seated himself in his cushioned armed-chair, and in the elation of the moment, forgetting decorum, and almost servility, exclaimed,

"Ah, this is a proud day for Zweder Van Culemborg!most royal protector, my delight is infinite to meet you.— How the rebellious citizens of Utrecht must quail and accept the commutation-ay, and doff their greasy caps, with thanks to my lowest proctor. When does your highness's noble domination reckon on the arrival of your forces?— Ludwick Van Monfoort tells me bluntly they are coming, but says not when. How many thousand heroes do you bring to our aid, most princely protector?-you make your first advance on Utrecht, eh! Ah, let the base burghers quail!-ungrateful slaves, who would not add a ruby to their prelate's mitre, nor a doight to their prince's revenue,

nor a

"Before Heaven, Madam," said Glocester, abruptly, "your reverend ally here, unlike the Genoese bowmen at Agincourt, does not let those he came to aid take the front of the battle!—he leads the van more like a principal than an auxiliary. May God and St. George guard me well, but I thought I came here to serve your cause against perfidious Burgundy, not to fight for this holy suffragan against his beggarly parishioners. How is this, fair countess?—or, mayhap, your reverence will set me right?"

While Jacqueline answered Glocester's sarcasms by a smile, and threw a glance of ineffable contempt at the churchman, the latter, recalled to a sense of his indelicate egotism by the duke's reproof, muttered a not very satisfac tory commentary on his former text.

"Your highness marvels," said he, "that I should touch first on what seems my own interests in this conference,

But wherefore, let me ask, is it wondrous that I should be moved by the impulse that regulates all men-ay, and all women, by this fair lady's leave? Suppose I do think of myself, why not? Do I not risk all to serve our common cause?-and why should my good alone be overlooked ?— Why should the Bishop of Utrecht, be forgotten-at least by him who wears the mitre? No man ever yet hated his own flesh, but nourisheth it, and cherisheth it, says St. Paul."

"Nay, countess, with your good leave," said Glocester, intercepting the indignant reply which had begun to speak in Jacqueline's looks. "I will briefly answer the worthy prelate's questions, and speak to this matter as seems meet. And first, be it known to your reverence, I am no polemic, nor can I quote scripture, though worse than either of us has done so before now. Moreover, I tell you frankly that I am no friend to alliances with churchmen; one bishop has been the bitter foe of the countess here, pitiless John of Liege, whom neither religion nor relationship could appease. Another has been the bane of my life, as well you may know, pernicious, wanton Winchester! And, with out undue offence, I see nothing good to be gained in a league where selfishness holds the first place."

"But listen, my lord duke, awhile-"

"Let me tell you, prelate, that Humphrey of Glocester is used to be listened to, not curbed, in speech or action.Nor shall any priest dictate what even froward Beaufort dared not!"

'By St. Willebrod, the patron of my see, if your highness takes so high a tone with your friends, your enemies may well, I trow, call you imperious and irreverend !"

"My friends!-Hold there awhile, good Bishop, nor speak too rashly. I am quick to give enmity, but slow in lavishing regard, particularly to those of your cloth. I do not mean that hunting suit, which, 'fore George, I honour more than sacerdotal robes."

"Tis you who speak too rashly, lord protector. Nor is this fit discourse from layman to a priest; nor, let me add, of likelihood to serve the cause you boast of being pledged to. My crosier to a lame man's crutch! Is it thus I'm to be treated? Madame Jacqueline, do I deserve this from your friends?"

With these words the bishop rose from his chair, and

paced the tent in much perturbation; while Glocester sat quietly, enjoying the storm he had raised. Jacqueline little less gratified at his free treatment of the selfish being (who only received back what he was himself too ready to deal out to others when he dared,) yet feared that a premature breach might follow the too-marked expression of Glocester's fiery contempt. She, therefore, in a soothing tone, entreated the bishop to remove his seat; and by a persuasive look showed the duke her wish that he should make some amends for his abruptness. He quickly complied, and said

"Come, my lord bishop, be not too quick to take offence. Let this pass, and we will talk more coolly. But, by the rood, it moved me to hear you begin our council with what should have come last in order."

"Well, let it be not revived," said Jacqueline, interrupting the prelate's reply,-" you are both friends now, and must, for my sake, make allowance for each other's way of thought and speech. Be satisfied, reverend Sir, my good ally!"

"Blessed be the peace-makers!" exclaimed the hypocritical retailer of the apostle's dicta, resuming his seat quite satisfied to brook the sallies of so powerful a censor as England's protector, and thinking he had shown sufficient spirit at his rough usage.

"Now let us, my good lords, come calmly to the matter of our meeting," said Jacqueline, "and discuss, in serious mood and measured phrase, the subjects we have so much at heart. Remember we are about to cope with a mighty antagonist; and, for the love of a righteous cause, let us mutually add to each other's strength, by bearing with each other's weakness. For you, bishop, and me, we uphold each our own interests in this quarrel; for should the tyrant, Philip, crush me in this struggle, you too must become his victim. But let us bear in mind that this noble prince espouses my just but almost desperate cause, and therefore acts in yours from motives alone of generous devotion. Let our gratitude—”

"Noble and beauteous Jacqueline," interrupted Glocester, "let no more mention of that word put shame upon my feeble efforts."

"Nor need we overstrain his highness's pure motives," chimed in the churchman, with a sulky and envious sneer; "pledged by the honour of knighthood in your cause, and bound by the holy ties of affianced faith, methinks the hoped-for enjoyment of your various counties of Holland, Zealand, and Friesland, to the north, with the contested claims for Brabant and Hainault, to the south, besides the succession to the Bavarian fiefs, which, on the death of your noble mother, Madame Marguerite, must be yours in virtue of direct inheritance--methinks all these, with the possession of a bride so beautiful, as it needs no flattery to pronounce you to be, are enough to urge on this puissant prince, without seeking to prove him influenced by superhuman virtue."

The prelate's eyes being as usual, fixed on the ground, he did not see, as Jacqueline too quickly did, the rapid flush that spread over Glocester's brow during this speech, nor the impetuous movement which impelled his open hand against his forehead, nor the forcible compression of his lips, all speaking an inward struggle of no common kind. Her sensitive mind, accustomed to disappointment and deceit, read a volume of evil import in these omens. The current of her words seemed checked; nor did the duke give utterance to a single phrase. The bishop, who expected interruption at every point of his verbose speech, looked up in surprise, which become instantly triumph, when he saw the evident confusion of Glocester's looks.

"Nay, nay, your highness;" said he, with a patronising tone, "take not my words too much at heart—I meant not to mortify you, but to show our fair ally here that I can probe the recesses of men's minds, and sift the secret motives that impel the acts of all. Noble prince, be not cast down."

"Tut, tut, good priest," said Glocester, impatiently repelling the hand which the bishop placed on his, waste not your words, nor wear the day in child's play like this. I tell you, prelate, you know me not; nor could the cunning of all earth's hierarchs unravel the mystery of my present thoughts. A baby's hand may strike deep discord from a ghittern's strings. Even so have your foolish words jarred on the feelings you could not play upon. Enough