Grace hath not heard me out,-I did not know it came from-from the Count-the letter was left here I know not by whom, and none of my people can tell me how,-and I had never seen the Count's handwriting."

"Thou didst not then, till I told thee so, know"-the King said with marks of surprise

-"that this letter was written by the Count of Artois!-Fie, Inez, fie! I may not credit this-this is too gross and palpable."

"Not credit me?" exclaimed Inez, with the air and tone of one who was both hurt and offended, "Not credit mine assertion! Have I then ever shewn myself unworthy of being believed? Hath your Grace ever yet observed in me ought which may warrant this cruel slur on my fair fame?”

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Why," answered the King, lowering his voice to a tone of still greater tendernesss, "it is true indeed, Inez-I must acknowledge it-thou hast been ever open, frank, and loyal in thy communings with me.-But not to know it!-this is what seems strange. Yet now I think on't, how shouldst have known it for

the Count's writing?-I know it so well myself!-and this did make me think that thou and every one else must have known it too, that was my mistake.-Dear".

At this word the King abruptly paused, for a thought he had not before considered came across him. He bit his lip.

"Yet-how is it, that-knowing not this letter by the writing in it, thou didst fail to recognize its composer by the gem it telleth of, and which is, I so presume, the emerald which thou thyself didst some time back-asserting it to be a common bruit-inform me that the Count had worn in honor of thyself?-Hah! how is this," he continued, raising again his voice, as, retreating from her grasp, he shook her from him, “how is this, perfidious, false one? -how canst thou answer this?"

Seeing the King, as she had never before beheld him, thus violently enraged, Inez scarce knew what course she should next pursue; but in affairs of this nature, where the questioned finds it difficult to answer, there is

always a manner of rendering it seemingly impossible she should do so-at least for the moment-just till she has had time to think a bit--it is to faint, and this Inez did forthwith. Alarmed at the state in which he beheld his mistress, the King began to accuse himself of using too great a harshness, and of having, by his violence, frightened her into such a state as disabled her from explaining a circumstance, which-as his heart wished, it also hoped-she might explain to his perfect satisfaction when she was recovered.

He, therefore, flew to the door and summoned her attendants; who instantly betook themselves to chafing her temples with their hands, and to putting into practice all the then known means of resuscitation; whilst he himself, kneeling at her side and sprinkling more water in her face than had trickled down it in tears, considered this event-so foolish are they who love as a proof of innocence, and he almost accused himself of harshness and brutality in thus wounding the feelings

of one so good, so pure and, above all, so beautiful.

As it took some little time to revive her and bring back matters to their former state, I will leave them till it has been effected, and resume the sequel of the story in another Chapter.

CHAPTER XX.

IN having thus denied knowing that the letter was written by Robert, Inez seems to have committed an error; as, though she might not have been conversant with the handwriting, yet its matter must necessarily have pointed out to her the person who had penned it. It is a good lesson this, to persons who meddle with things of a like nature:-On ne s'avise jamais de tout. One who engages in such intrigues must have his senses for ever on the watch, lest he say something, or do something, or some other person do something, or say something to betray him; and even then, with all his wits for ever on the alert, he will be quite sure to break down at last.