Inez's bosom heaved-she essayed to speak, but remained silent.

"Inez, I say again, tell me-I command thee tell me how came this writing here?— How came D'Artois to have the mad audaciousness to address thee thus in terms of love, and how camest thou to listen to them?"

"My Lord, my good, my dearest Lord!" said Inez, covering her face with both her hands, as though afraid to behold the King. "Con-condemn-oh, condemn me not un

heard."

"Unheard!-'Tis well thou didst not say unseen, for I have seen enough to damn thee! I condemn thee-I condemn thee not-it is this scroll which doth condemn thee-thy confusion which condemns thee-all things-each thing-every thing condemns thee-not I."

"Not me, not me," replied Inez in an agony of tears, and sobbing, whilst her whole frame shook with agitation. "Not me, say you, my Lord say you that every thing condemns me that all things do condemn me? -Nothing condemns me-nothing!"

"How! nothing condemns thee, Inez!Know I not my letters?-Can I not read? -Is not this D'Artois' writing?-Hold I not here—yet," continued the King, softening his voice a little, as it occurred to him that though the writing was evidently the Count D'Artois', and though Inez's confusion seemed to justify his suspicions, yet as he had not read the letter, but only cast his eye over it, he had no right to conclude it to contain expressions of love." Stay-mayhap-let us see what it is of."

He then again took up the letter, which in his first burst of anger he had flung down, and read as follows::

"To the most lovely, the Lady Inez.

"Thou didst much approve a bauble which I wore, the day whereon, to suit thy fancy, I arrayed me in thy favored color. It was bestowed on me by one whom I deemed beautiful ere I beheld thee.

I despatch it to thee with this letter, not that it is worthy of thee, but that thy worth may give it value.

"Wear it not on thy brow, lest, being thus near thine eyes, they may bring shame upon it, and make it seem to lack its usual lustre ; but place it somewhere near thy heart, for the giver's sake.

"Affairs drag me hence incontinently, but returning in a few days, I will take thine

answer.

"Thine ever devoted,"

"Out upon thee, traitress!"-said the King, tearing the letter, when he had finished it, into a thousand pieces and dashing them violently on the floor,-"Out on thee, shameless one!Is't thus thou dost reward my love-repay my tenderness?"

During the whole of the time that this was going on, Inez continued sobbing as though her heart would break, and tears chased each other quickly down her cheek. At length, sinking on her knee, she seized hold of the King's hand, which she bathed with tears; and looking up piteously into his face, with a voice broken and interrupted with sighs,

besought him to listen, and not condemn her unheard upon false surmises.

"Surmises!-false surmises!"-the King exclaimed indignantly,-"Was that letterthat hateful scrawl-what was that?-was that surmise?-Did I surmise I saw it-read it-that it contained professions of love?Did I surmise it to be Robert's writingwriting which I know, well as I do know mine own.-Away with thee, thou art now more hateful in mine eyes than ever thou wert lovely."

I say not," replied Inez, still weeping, "I say not but that the surmises—which -your Grace-your Grace speaketh of are just-they are just-the writing is that of -of the Count of-Artois. It is also true that it is-it is addressed to me-and it containeth profess-ions-contains a profession of-of-of love,-but, my Lord, it beareth not any proof-no not a show of proof-that it-it was-that I gave the Count encouragement to write it-and-and my heart bears

witness to the anger which-I-the anger I felt when, on opening the letter, I found it contain proffers equally offensive to meequally offensive to me, as to your Grace.— Yet your surmise that I knew all this-and -this-and-this-this-yes this is what is false-cruelly-cruelly false."

"How, Inez!" retorted the Monarch, something softened by her tears and the tribulation he saw her suffering under, "How can this be; and wherefore, seeing the address was in Robert's handwriting, didst thou not instantly render it to him unopened?"

"Why, an't please your Grace, how could I guess the Count of Artois-had writ to me in such bland fashion-till I opened—till I had opened the letter?-The Count-the Count might have had-for ought I—I could tell— matters of-matters of import-to you to me -or to himself-which-which he wished to communicate"

"Why that is true, Inez, I must own,but"-

"But your Grace," interrupted Inez, "your