fallest sick-Who support thee, if in need?Oh Emily, Emily, hear me, in pity listen-pity, pity, leave me not!"

'Hush, Gaultier!-knowest thou not each word thou speakest is a poniard in my bosom; but, Love, I must not let my purpose thus be shaken! I go-but be thou sure, that in whatever portion of the world her fate or fortune drives thine Emily, her heart shall ever hold thee as her dearest treasure, and that she'll think of thee as of one who deigned to love a maiden having nought to render in return, except the poor affections of a grateful heart."

To words, so fond in expression, yet firm in maintaining the original purpose of the speaker, what could be replied?

Gaultier rested his cheek upon his arm, and wept. The tears trickled down, and fell upon his loved one's hand-she kissed them off.

"Gaultier, I would not willingly be forgotten by one I love so well. 'Twould hurt me to think I were so, and this poor heart of mine already is so deeply grieved, it can ill bear another wound.-Take this," she continued, as, stooping

to the earth, she picked up a pebble, which,— wrapping with a small parcel, so as to give it weight, in a piece of satin,-she tilted towards him," Take this 'tis a lock of my hair, cut off on the day before the Seigneur your father forbade our farther intercourse. I should have given it to you ere this, had I been able; when, as I could not, I would have destroyed it; but that had been a sacrilege, for it had been dedicated to thee, and thus become sacred. Take it, therefore, dear Gaultier, and when thou lookest thereon, think upon her, who will ever think of thee. Now fare thee well!"

"Thanks, thanks, and blessings on thee, my ever dearest," said Gaultier, kissing the packet as it alighted in his hands. "Yet, oh stay one moment, but one moment more, to tell me whither thou wilt go,-to what country, to what clime. Oh love, go not at all,-stay with him who so affections thee, and who will foster thee, and cherish thee. Emily! wait but a few days, -a few weeks,-my father, wearied with punishing, will soon release me from prison. Ay he will be glad to loose me, for de Laval will

soon again be here,-and then, oh then, dearest, will I accompany thee, whithersoever thou shalt lead."

"Nay, nay, Gaultier," replied the maid, "break not thus my heart, by asking that which needs must be denied to thee. Shall I thus take thee from thy home-thy parents-thy station-fortune-friends, and all which is most dear to man, and make thee a companion of a poor lone wanderer, who, in the morning, knows not where she shall lay down her head at night? No, Gaultier, this were to make thee-thee, my beloved, on whom my fond soul doth hang with such a pure and most entire affection,--but a sorry recompense for love. The Seigneur de Mauny, too, hath he not menaced my Sire, his vassal, with his severest anger, should he e'er suffer us to meet. Besides, too, Gaultier, thinkest thou I do not bear within me that which doth forbid me furtively to wed with one whose sire doth spurn me from his door? Countest thou my pride for nought? Thou dost not know me, Gaultier! perchance I did not know myself, till Love, and Love's companion, sorrow, made me

turn in mine eyes upon my heart, and view it as it is. No! rather would I-a poor and needy wanderer-beg my bread from door to door, or earn it by the daily labour of mine hands, than e'er consent to that which would diminish thy esteem,—and this thou now requirest."

It is difficult to say how long the conversation betwixt the lovers would have continued, or how, had they been allowed to carry it on, it might have terminated, though it may be feared, for we are but poor creatures at the very best!that a much longer delay might have put to flight the generous determination Emily had formed of not any longer standing as a barrier 'twixt him and his parent's love; but this was a trial she was not compelled to undergo,—for a sentinel, stationed near that part of the castle, who, from the first of Emily's arrival, had, unseen, observed her speaking with him, and who, hearing the distant tramp of the patrol making its rounds, crept gently up to her, and whispered in her ear:

66

Damoyselle-the guard !-haste, leave the spot, or you are undone.”

Startled at the sound of his voice, Emily turned round, thanked her faithful sentinel, and then looking up, beheld the patrol just issuing forth from a narrow alley, at about half the distance of the street from where she was standing.

There was not an instant to be lost; they appeared to be advancing with a quickened step, as though they had perceived her. Had they, indeed, seen her? if so, she was lost.

66

Adieu, adieu, Gaultier," she hastily, but in a whisper exclaimed, flinging a last glance towards her lover,-"My beloved, farewell; be blest-but in thine happiness, sometimes bestow a thought on thy poor Emily."

Enveloping her form in the mantle, she then hurried away, and creeping softly round the tower, arrived at a part of the castle which was supported by a massive buttress. On one side of this, the rays of the moon falling directly, rendered the spot unfit for a hiding place; she therefore passed to the opposite side, which being in deep shade, offered her an asylum, in which she might hope to escape observation.

Here creeping as close to the wall as possible,