band of the Albigeois, to whose ears the sound of merit was an abomination.

"And even above that glorious circle," resumed the Bishop, "high beyond the highest, and bright above the brightest, the Mother of God herself appears, as in the vision of the mystic book, clothed with the sun, and the moon beneath her feet, and in her arms the form of him who created both." And as he spoke the bishop fervently kissed the gorgeous crucifix that was ap pended from his shoulders.

The murmur among the Albigeois increased.

The bishop watched and waited till the murmur subsided: he allowed the wave to dash in full force, and sailed in triumph on its recoiling surge. "Spurn not the cross," he cried, "for the sake of him who hung thereon! If ye boast your love to him, if ye treasure in your hearts every word he uttered, every precept he enjoined, every ordinance he appointed, scorn not those who hallow with their lips and their hearts the

memorial of him whom both are bound to love. You cherish his faith in your hearts; we press its symbol to our lips. Is it possible we can shew inwardly or outwardly too much devotion to Him to whom both look alike for salvation? Shall men differ for modes, when the spirit and the system is the same?---and even in those modes, have not saints agreed with us? Can we not reckon against your feeble, and unauthorized, and recent examples, our saints, our anchorets, our eremites, our holy men whose memory hath been embalmed from age to age, and in the period of twelve hundred years have kept the odour of that memory undiminished? We point your steps to that bright track: behold who have preceded you; see how their path is gemmed and studded, not with crowns and coronals of this earth, not with tiaras and mitres. Have you wept? so have they. Have you suffered ?---so have they. Have you bled ?-their blood was first shed for you. There are the palms of mar

tyrs,-branches of living emerald; the tears of saints turned to diamonds that paved their way to Heaven as they shed them; the blood of martyrs, whose every drop is now a ruby in their celestial coronals. There be the treasures unexhausted, inexhaustible, of their accumulated merits, which the Church throws open to you, overlaying the way of your return with the gems and gold of the sanctuary of Heaven." He paused the Albigeois stood attentive and reverent-but there was neither movement nor answer amid their assembly, and this silence was evidently neither that of conviction nor even of hesitation. "God!" ex

claimed the bishop, (for an infidel can sometimes work himself into the semblance of an enthusiast by the assistance of his passions,) "if there be fifty righteous in that heretical Sodom-thirty, ten, nay one, let them come

forth."

Not a foot was advanced-not a voice was heard among the vast multitude.

Pierre, the pastor, alone tottered forth, supported by Genevieve, and stood almost opposite to the bishop.

"Silence hath answered thee," said the sightless pastor. He turned solemnly towards the congregation. They stood mute and motionless as the dead.

The blind old man appeared to hear this silence he drew a furrow with his staff in the sands of the plain, between his congregation and the band of the Crusaders. "Pass it who will!" he exclaimed: he listened with hearing rendered more acute by the privation of the organs of sight: no sound of voice or step was heard. He shook his white and streaming hair in triumph. "Silence hath answered thee," he repeated. "There is not one amongst us, from the stoutest that can wield a club, to the timid maiden on whom I lean, who will sell their birthright unto thee! We are poor, and afflicted, and despised; but every man in our host is a Joshua, and every woman a Miriam !" In his emotion, he dropped his staff, which

Genevieve stooped to recover. In the action, her mantle and hood, partially displaced, disclosed a glimpse of her form and countenance: her long dark hair almost touched the ground, and there was a light of holy triumph in her eye and on her features, that gave them for a moment a character almost unearthly. It was but for a moment! She hastily replaced her mantle, folded herself in it, and stood like a veiled statue by the pastor.

Short as was the interval, the bishop had seen her, and that was enough in his thoughts to decide her destiny. He stood for a space silent, his eyes still fixed on her shrouded figure; but instantly recovering himself, he pursued his address to the Albigeois; but his tone was now changed from the conciliatory and expostulative to the minatory and commanding. Unhappy men!" he thundered, ye have sealed your doom-sealed it in both worlds: the book of life was unfolded to you that ye might write your names on its page, and Paradise would have smiled as you traced them. Ye have shut that book;

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