armour, as of cavaliers descending from their horses on the stony pavement; and before Emily could reach the loop-hole to look forth from it, she perceived the Seigneur Amauri de Clisson,

"Whose brow, like to a title-leaf,

Foretold the nature of a tragic volume,"

Coming along the corridor towards her; she sprang forward to meet him, then paused to look silently in his face, and read that which she desired to know, yet feared to ask.

"Poor comfort bring we, Lady! Nantes is ta'en-the Duke a prisoner."

All was said.-She was answered: and turning round, she drooped her head upon her bosom, and paced silently along by the side of the Chevalier, until they both arrived in the presence of the Countess.

"Ah, Sire!" exclaimed the latter, "with the air of one who would have it be believed she anticipated only good news,-and did not note that the fallen countenance of both Emily and the Knight foreboded evil-"I do rejoice to see you, I have long expected a messenger

from Nantes, and now, behold one here! What good tidings bring you?" she continued, her voice growing less and less articulate at each word she uttered.

De Clisson shook his head mournfully: "Bad, bad indeed, lady, most mournful,- treachery hath been abroad. De Leon sacrificed the garrison to revenge."

"And your Lord, de Montfort, my husband?" -gasped forth the Countess, interrupting him. De Clisson drooped his head, but returned no

answer.

"Speak, vassal!-by thy allegiance, I do command thee-Speak!" she continued, in a tone of voice which terror rendered awful:

"Is a captive, Lady!"

She sank back upon the stool, and clasping both hands together upon her knees before her, drooped her head to meet them on her lap.

She seemed to suffer anguish unutterable;— tears rolled after tears upon her cheek, and every now and then a sigh, vainly attempted— and therefore the more agonizing-to be repressed, broke forth: whilst neither de Clisson,

nor even Emily herself, dared offer comfort: lest their words should waken a still deeper sense of woe, and ripen misery into madness.

At length there seemed to be a slight intermission of grief, and Emily, seizing the opportunity, ventured to approach and gently lay her hand upon the shoulder of the Countess, who no sooner felt the touch than looking up—

"Lend me thine arm, maiden!"

Emily obeyed, and, supported by her, Jeanne

arose.

"You have seen me weep," she said, addressing herself to de Clisson; "but the tears I shed will be the last which shall bedew these eyes:I was then a woman, now I will enact the man.Haste, maiden!" she continued, turning towards Emily, "go bid the women bring my boy hither, I have need of him.-De Clisson! hie you into the armoury, and choose me thence a casque, and spear, and corselet, and gleaves, and gauntlets, and all the other appurtenances of a warrior. And, hark!" she added, smiling as she cast her eyes over her majestic, but delicate form,

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see that I be not over-sized,-for though, as

a female, I seem tall and stately, I shall, I fear me, prove but a man in miniature.-Let them too be light as may be, seeing I be not over strong of limb."

Each departing on his separate mission, speedily returned; the one with an infant of between five and six years old, the other laden with armour. The Countess, raising the child, clasped him to her bosom with a passionate expression of maternal fondness: when, having thus caressed him for a few moments, she laid him gently on the couch, and then applied herself to fitting on the helmet and cuirass which de Clisson held; after which, again taking the infant in her arms, and followed by de Clisson, Emily, and the other damsels, who had hitherto stood by in silence, wondering to what all this tended, and where it would end: she descended into the Balliun, or Court-yard, when, having assembled the whole garrison in her presence, she raised the visor of her helmet, and thus addressed them :

"Seigneurs and Serfs! Vassals, who owe liege homage to the Lord of Montfort, Duke of

the land which gave you birth! Ever my friends -henceforth my companions-your Lord is ta'en! Henri de Leon hath betrayed-Jean de Valois holds him captive. Oh! my dear friends! Be ye not cast down or brokenhearted at this sad news, but rather, as myself, encouraged by't to acts of higher heroism.There be matrons, who, at such mischance, made sick of life, would leave it, and so quail to Fortune; I will subdue and fetter her. Emulate me!

"Your Lord is taken! Well, what of that? He's but a single man like any other of you!His arm was not more powerful, his blade more keen, than that of many 'midst us. Grieve ye at his hard case?-Revenge it! Meanwhile," she continued, taking the child by his hand, and showing to the soldiery-" Behold your Lord, your infant Lord, who shall now lead you forward 'gainst the recreant knight who did betray his father. Wilt thou not, my son?"

"Yes, mother! and will kill too him when I grow a man."