with the monotonous clang of the chapelbell.

"Hark! what is that?" cried Rosamond, with a start.

"Nothing that I heard," anwered Jacqueline, carelessly. The sound, however, was repeated-the blast of a horn was distinctly heard.

"A horn! and from the other side of the river," exclaimed Rosamond with animation. "There may be news!"

"News!" echoed Jacqueline, pettishly; for she was accustomed to the delusions of Rosamond, who always expected what she wished. “And if there was news, why, so much the worse; it is sure to be bad news."

"Why do you say that?" asked Rosamond, anxiously.

"Because I had a dream; and it was not a good one," replied Jacqueline, shaking her head mysteriously.

"Oh! you were but half asleep, dear Jacqueline; and you thought you dreamed," suggested Rosamond. "But there--there it is again!" she added, as another and more impatient blast was borne

upon

the wind.

"It comes from the ferry-house," said Jacqueline, with awakening curiosity.

"A signal for the boat," observed Rosamond. "Who can it be at this hour, I wonder?"

"Only the miller with his flour, I daresay. He was to come back to-day; tomorrow is baking-day, for the white bread," responded Jacqueline, who kept accurate note of any probable amelioration of the convent fare.

"No; the miller would have crossed at the lower ferry," insisted Rosamond. "It must be some one from the hills; " and she raised herself upon the wooden stool, until her face nearly touched the bars of the window it was, however, on the wrong side of the angle, and she could see nothing.

"We never can see here; let us run to the gallery-window at the end," exclaimed Rosamond, jumping from the stool; "it just overlooks the ferry."

66

Lady, dear lady, you will be late,—the bell has ceased; the abbess is already in the chapel: she will be angry again, and you will be shut up," expostulated Jacqueline.

"Oh! no," cried Rosamond, intent upon gratifying her curiosity, "we shall be in time we can go in by the side-door. Come, good Jacqueline, quick, quick; there is the horn again!"

Without waiting for an answer, Rosamond glided from the door, flew along the narrow stone passage, mounted the stairs, and was soon at the window of the upper gallery, when she had the satisfaction of ascertaining that curiosity, the special failing of nuns, was not confined to her own breast; for from every nook, doorway, and corner, peeped a muffled figure, which speedily emerged from its seclusion on finding that the hasty approaching steps foretold no other danger than the merry glances of the "sweet sister Rosamond." Instantly every possible gazing-place was seized with avidity, while questions flew from one to the other, and no one waited or seemed to expect an answer. Could it be the mummers, or the pedlars, or the soldiers, or the miller, or the huntsman, or the abbot, or a hundred other personages of more or less dignity?

Old, young, and middle-aged, all seemed

equally interested in the expected visitor: for in a convent everything, even the greatest trifle, assumes an importance unknown elsewhere; and the hope of even momentary escape from the terrible dulness of so secluded a life is but illconcealed. Accordingly, everybody talked and wondered; but Jacqueline, whose love for her young mistress made her somewhat more rational, went on pulling her by her robe, and whispering,-" To the chapel! sweet lady,—to the service, before it is too late." Rosamond, however, with her head still further advanced than any of the others, heeded her not, but kept her eyes fixed upon the little boat which, moored habitually beneath the convent walls, had now been nearly ferried across the river. It soon reached the opposite side; but so deep was the shadow of the trees upon the bank, that it was impossible exactly to distinguish what was going forward. Several persons seemed to be standing on the narrow point where the path that wound down the wooded hill touched the edge of the river. In vain the curiosity-stricken community

of Clairvaux strained their eyes. The light was too indistinct, and so many minutes elapsed, that fears began to arise.

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Suppose, after all, that no visitors were coming?"- what a disappointment! An event was so much wanted,-something to talk of, and think about.

At last, however, suspense was at an end. The boat had actually put off from the other side, and was making its way across the stream; but slowly, for it was heavily laden. Several persons were in it, besides the old ferryman. Fortunately the landingplace was almost exactly under the windows of the little gallery where the curious nuns had congregated, and therefore every movement was visible. Six strangers stepped from the boat upon the shore: first came two women, who, by their dress, seemed to belong to the upper-class of peasants. Both were young, and well-looking; and, besides their ordinary dress, each wore a long mantle, and carried a riding-whip in her hand. Next came two men-at-arms, in their leathern jerkins and steel caps; and to them was entrusted the