feel, or avert a tithe of that which I foresee," said Gaultier, with a sigh, almost amounting to a groan.

"See! feel!" echoed Jacqueline, in a tone of irony; "you are always talking of your feelings, or singing about them. Now it strikes me that misery can't be so very common in the world, or it wouldn't need so much description."

"Common !-it is universal. There is little else upon the earth but misery, and her twin-sister, despair. Hand in hand they go together, showing us the path to the grave," exclaimed Gaultier, in a tone of deep feeling, while tears filled

his eyes.

"Then, what is the use of talking so much about it?" asked Jacqueline. "If every one knows it, why tell it again and again?"

"It is soothing to complain," replied Gaultier, gently.

"You are suffering, then?" inquired Jaqueline. with some appearance of sympathy; for as her anger subsided, she began to feel a slight degree of interest. for the minstrel, whose youth and habitual

gaiety contrasted sadly with his tone of

sorrow.

"I have reason. I am an orphan, with none to love me. I am far from my country, and I love one so high above me that my love for ever must remain buried in my own heart! But now, good mistress Jacqueline," he added, and his cheek crimsoned as he turned his head from her searching eye, "you make me talk of myself, which is neither fitting nor pleasant; and you have not yet vouchsafed to answer the first and only question that I asked of you,whether the Lady Rosamond rides forth to-day?"

“I told you truly," replied Jacqueline, "when I said I did not know; but now, methinks, I see Black Sultan led out, and here come troops of horses, and all the merry huntsmen, in their green and gold. Yes, of a surety there is a forest hunt to-day, and my lady will ride out. And see! there is Sir Ranulph speaking to the groom who holds her horse; and now he lifts his cap from his head, and all around do the same. The King must have come

forth, but I cannot see the steps. Good master minstrel," she added, as she made room for him at the window; "get upon this bench, and tell me what you see. I would I were taller, then the trouble might be spared."

Gaultier instantly mounted upon the stone bench near the window, and in a moment exclaimed, "I see the King descend the steps into the court.

Now he

turns, and gives his hand to the Lady Rosamond, who follows. Now Black Sultan is led up, and the King lifts the Lady Rosamond to her saddle."

"He!" interrupted Jacqueline, "that used to be Sir Ranulph's task."

"Sir Ranulph has walked to the other side of the court," replied Gaultier, straining his eyes from the window; "he is coupling two splendid deer-hounds that fawn upon him and lick his hands."

"Oscar and Hoder, Lady Rosamond's dogs," calmly observed Jacqueline, as if taking note of every little circumstance.

"Now he turns a little back; some one approaches him. It is the falconer, for I see two noble hawks upon his hand;

Sir Ranulph takes first one, then the other."

"Thor and Odin, Lady Rosamond's hawks," soliloquised Jacqueline.

"He tries their bells," continued Gaultier, "examines their jesses and their hoods. Now he strokes down their beautiful plumage, softly and fondly, as if he loved them; and they bend their heads, and flap their wings, as if, though their eyes are covered, they know it is a friend. And now he gives them back to the falconer, and

"And what?" interrupted Jacqueline, impatiently.

"And walks away-quite away to the other side of the keep, and I can see him no more," added Gaultier.

"And the Lady Rosamond?" anxiously inquired Jacqueline.

"She has never once turned her head," said Gaultier, sadly. "She sits at the foot of the steps, upon Black Sultan, whom the King holds by the rein, with an arm leaning on his arched neck. His highness is talking and laughing with the Lady Rosamond, and I see by the waving of the plume.in

her cap, that she answers to his mirth.
They are happy," continued Gaultier, in a
voice half-suffocated by a rising sob, "while
others are miserable!"

"Good Master Gaultier de St. Clair," cried Jacqueline, with a start, as the tone of the speaker seemed to awaken her from a reverie into which she had fallen, "stand no longer idly gazing from the window : it is nothing to us, who goes or who comes. You will be late; the King will call for you ere he mounts his horse: take the lute, I pray you, and begone. You have tarried here too long; I would not have you come to anger on my account."

Gaultier sprang from the bench, and slinging the golden cord that held the lute round his neck, vanished through the lowarched doorway of the room. For an instant, however, he re-appeared, and bending his knee before Jacqueline, he, with the greatest respect, imprinted a kiss upon her brown and withered hand-his young heart felt a thrill of sympathy towards her, for she had listened to his grief.

"Poor boy!" exclaimed Jacqueline,