are grateful for his gifts, and day and night will they remember him in their prayers. They will pray that his sickness may pass from him, and that he may again take sword and lance, and do battle in the holy cause; for while the Infidel treads within the sacred walls the hearts of Christians will mourn."

As she concluded these words, Rosamond, equipped for her journey, and followed by Joan (now to her great happiness restored to her original name), entered the room. Rosamond had thrown off the convent dress, and wore a long robe of woollen cloth of the darkest hue, while her hair, simply drawn back from the forehead, was confined by a band of the same material, and hung its full length behind. Her face was pale with weeping, and the agitation of this long-wished for moment made her forget how ardently it had been desired. As she approached the abbess, to bid her farewell, all her wrongs,wrongs she had once considered so grievous,were forgotten. Her own follies rose to her mind, and a pang of remorse shot through her heart.

'Mother!" she exclaimed, in a subdued tone, "if I have offended thee, forgive me -forgive me, and bless me before I go!" Then, bursting into tears, she sank upon her knees before the abbess, who, with more emotion than she cared to betray, replied,

"Daughter, be comforted-be dutiful to thy father, be dutiful and meek! I bless thee, and forgive thee!"-and she folded her to her breast. 66 Nay, my daughter," she added, as after a few moments Rosamond, again bidding her adieu, prepared to quit the room, "we will not part thus, I will go with thee through the garden to the river-side. The sisters also must bid thee adieu;-let them be summoned to the garden,” she added, turning to Joan, who immediately hastened to ring the great bell, which was the signal for all to leave the occupation in which they were engaged, and attend the summons.

In an instant a fever of excitement spread through the convent; and when it became known that sister Rosamond was going, a general lamentation ensued,

and the poor nuns crowded upon her passage each with an affectionate word or gesture; for Rosamond was a favourite with them all. The presence of the lady abbess, however, much restrained their volubility. They drew up in a semicircle behind her, and formed a dense mass, in their long white dresses and black hoods and facings, as, standing on the bank that led to the river, the Lady Isolda once more blessed the child so long entrusted to her care, and then committed her to the hands of those sent by her father to conduct her home.

Rosamond was the last to enter the boat. Giving her hand to Sir Ranulph, she at length stept from the bank,-silently, for she could not speak.

"Farewell! my child," ejaculated the abbess, mildly, "farewell! one day thou wilt return to Clairvaux."

The farewell was echoed again and again by all the sisters, and the dismal chorus swelled upon the wind as the boat glided from the shore. The sound fell upon the heart of Rosamond like a prophetic omen of sorrow.

CHAPTER IX.

LONG Would Rosamond have continued to gaze upon the grey walls of Clairvaux, after she had reached the opposite side of the river, but that Sir Ranulph hastily placed her upon her horse, and gave a signal to the attendants to follow.

It would have been difficult to say what it was that she regretted within the convent gates, for her life there had not been such as to attach her to monastic seclusion. The abbess had been too sure of her prey,

and in allowing Rosamond a full view of the bigotry and hypocrisy which were the predominant features of too many of her order, had failed to propitiate where she so much wished to govern. With Rosamond, conviction was necessary to attachment. An instinctive sort of affection, however, made her thoughts still cling to the home she had quitted; and with tearful eyes she turned again and again to take a last look as they rode up the hill upon the opposite side.

Sir Ranulph de Broc with all due courtesy urged her forward, pleading the illness of her father as an excuse; although he was not without some anxiety as to other causes. The country, especially in those parts, was supposed to be perfectly tranquil, yet travelling was constantly attended with danger; and had it been known that the beautiful and wealthy daughter of the owner of Clifford Castle was upon the road with so small a retinue, more than one plan might have been laid to seize so fair a prey, and carrying her off to the stronghold of the victor, there to detain her until such ransom had been