Happy though it made her, Rosamond did not view this change without certain feelings of regret. Although a heroine in spirit, she was a woman at heart, and could not, without a sigh, behold the severance of all those tender and household ties, which the heart of woman holds dear. She had during the illness of her father for the first time tasted the joys of domestic love, and her gentle nature found them illreplaced by the tilt-yard, the wassail, and the chase. She smiled to think of the days when, crushed and confined by the stringent convent rules, she had imagined the only happiness in life consisted in being free.

On his side, Lord Clifford was not without considerable anxiety. In his illness and seclusion, he had learned dearly to love the being he had hitherto merely regarded with a sort of affectionate pride as the heiress of both his wealth and of his name; but the many fine qualities of Rosamond had softened the stateliness of his thoughts. In an age when glory and feats of arms were the chief object of men,when personal courage was far more

esteemed than personal worth, and superstition of the grossest kind was often the mainspring of the wildest deeds, little room was left in the breast for the exercise of the more kindly affections, and home was looked upon more as a nursery of soldiers, or resting-place for the sick, than as the blessed abode of all that is most holy upon earth. No knight-errant or champion of the Holy Cross would have dared to urge as a plea of absence from his self-imposed duties the dearness or the claims of any household tie. The Holy Land was the goal of every desire, and in order to reach this wished-for haven, and furnish forth the equipments necessary for himself or his retainers, few Christian knights would hesitate to strip their vassals of every farthing they possessed - often imprisoning the wealthy in order to extort a ransom, and even putting to the torture the more refractory; and thus, abandoning their family and their home, hasten, most robably, to perish miserably on the burn

sands of Palestine; their dream of glory - fulfilled, could their name but resound

in the songs of the Troubadours. Glory, earthly glory, was the shrine upon which all that was most precious was laid.

In the heart of Lord de Clifford, nature had implanted much that was beautiful and kind; but still the ruling passions of the age were there; and it never would have occurred to him, to consider it as a duty to sacrifice the chance of honour and renown, in order to stay at home and guard the treasure with which Heaven had blessed him. No the Holy Land was again his thought by day, and dream by night; and not all the remembrance of his sufferings could turn him from his course.

His vow

dwelt his mind. In the firm persuaupon sion that to it he owed his recovery from the bed of death, each hour of delay seemed to him a sin. A man of quick decision and firm resolve was Lord de Clifford; he asked neither aid nor counsel; but, once determined, he pushed on straightforward to his end.

His was a nature well suited to the times in which he lived; and among the barons of England none could more command respect, both from the king and his

CHAPTER XI.

"AND when is the wedding to be?" These were the first words of Jacqueline, uttered with true feminine curiosity, the moment her mistress acquainted her with the fact of her betrothal.

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Never, most probably," was Rosamond's reply, as she leaned her head upon the shoulder of her nurse.

"Never!" echoed Jacqueline, "that's a long way off. But I'm thinking," added she with a smile, "it won't be so long. My

lord will soon go to the Holy Land, and he will see his daughter a wedded wife before he travels, or my name isn't Jacqueline."

"My father means it so," returned Rosamond; "but something tells me his wish for the fulfilment is stronger than his belief in its likelihood. He must know that the idea of marriage is hateful to me."

"He know it!" retorted Jacqueline; "he knows nothing at all about it, I'll be sworn, and he cares less. Do not all young ladies wish to be married? How should he guess that you are unlike the rest?"

"And yet," persisted Rosamond gravely, "he must know that I do not love Sir Ranulph."

"Love!" echoed Jacqueline with a disdainful smile and toss of her head, as if the sentiment signified by that word were the very last thing to be thought of in a marriage; "love is all well enough for a village maiden who has nothing else to look to; but for a noble lady like you

"Well," said Rosamond quickly, as Jac