his companion was not the same; and, to the shame of his heart be it spoken, he never saw or asked for her who had been so formerly. As he paced the walks by the side of Mlle. d'Ayelle, enthralled by her beauty, and fascinated by her wit, he never cast a thought on the simple maiden who had given him all the affection of an unpractised heart, and loved him with a strong unmingled passion, which this courtly creature could never feel. As he passed the fountain, I cannot believe that the image of Fleurette did not rise before his mind; but, if it did, it was merely for him to chase it from his thought, as the sultan in the eastern story flung from him the talismanic ing, which reminded him that he was doing wrong.

And where was Fleurette herself? Her heart had swelled and bounded with joy when she heard of Henri's return — - but the news which she heard almost as soon (for scandal has a winged tongue) cast at once the icy chill of death upon her heart. Her long, long hope had been for his return, and now that he was returned,-oh, heaven! how that hope was crushed and blasted!—She did not seek Henri-she conveyed to him no reproach—she suffered, suffered on.

Gracious heaven! if men did but know the pangs which even the lightness of their conduct occasions, unless they were very fiends, they could not continue to act thus! But they never can know what a woman feels on desertion, or even slight. It is not in our nature to feel such things in the same manner as they do;-the early doubt—the gradual decline of hope-and at last the sick despair of certainty are their hearts human, that they can inflict these things on the beings who love them to very madness, and as it were as a punishment for that love itself?

Fleurette had once or twice seen the prince and Mlle. d'Ayelle walking together in the garden; but she always shrank from their way, and hid herself among the trees. Her heart rose into her throat, and she felt almost as if it would choke her as she looked upon her former lover. The time which he had been away had wrought great improvement

upon his person; he was more formed, his stature was increased, his figure had become more manly, and his eye and brow more determined. Still his smile (who can forget the smile of one they have loved?) was the same; and poor Fleurette felt sick at heart as she saw it given to another. She watched them-their manner-their looks. "She does not love him as I did, no one can ever do that,"-the poor girl said to herself," and he does not look on her face as he did on mine- he does not love her as he did me-but he does love her, and he loves me no longer, and that is enough."

But one day Fleurette found herself close to them of a sudden, and she felt an irresistible temptation not to avoid them this time. They met; and as they passed she looked up (it was indeed an effort) into Henri's face. His eyes met her's, and the blood sprang in volumes to his cheeks. He passed on without speaking; but that evening he came to the door of her cottage, as she was sitting at her wheel (but not spinning) and in a hurried and embarrassed tone begged her to be at the fountain the next night. Without raising her eyes from her work, she answered, “" At eight o'clock I will be there.”

It was now the autumn of the year, and the evening was chill and gloomy. As Henri walked through the garden, his spirits felt the effect of the season-his conduct rose upon his heart and smote him. The wind sighed, and swept the fallen leaves in eddies; and the trees, which had yet a few discoloured leaves upon them, looked perhaps still more melancholy and uncheering than if they had been wholly bare. He saw the fountain at a distance, and perceived that she was not yet come. His feelings were not exactly such as to lead him to prefer that spot to wait—it accused him too strongly. He walked once more round the garden. The night now began to close in, and the wind, as it struck chill upon him, seemed to shoot its coldness into his heart also. He again came within sight of the fountain, and still no one was there. Was this like Fleurette? He went towards it slowly, expecting every moment to see her approach through the gloom. But

he got close to the brink, and still she did not appear. As he reached it, however, he saw on the spot where they had always been accustomed to sit, a short wand stuck into the earth. He approached it--he recognised it well! It was the arrow with the rose, long since withered, still adhering to its barb! He took it up, with a deep sigh, when suddenly he found a paper fastened to the feather. He tore it open-but it had become too dark for him to distinguish a line. He flew to the castle — the note contained these words: "You have ceased to love me, but I do not reproach you-may God Almighty bless you and make you happy!-may He, in His great goodness, forgive me! I promised to meet you this night at the fountainI have kept my trust-if you seek, you will find me there."

The truth flashed across him in a moment-he rushed back to the fountain-the unfortunate was indeed there!"

THE SPANISH LOVER'S SONG TO HIS LADY. BY DOUGLAS JERROLD, ESQ.

66

AUTHOR OF THE RENT DAY," ETC.

May I not tell, oh! gently tell,

Feelings so kind, so pure, so true?

What means the silent, fearful spell,

That prompts, yet checks me, when I'd sue?

Oh read, then read, my burning cheek,
Are mine eyes dumb? how unlike thine!
Of love, of hope, of heaven, they speak-
Does nothing answer them in mine?

The cork-tree waveth silently,

In the soft-sighing breeze of night,
Fair Seville's towers pensively

Shadow the placid moon's pale light.

My soul is full of love and thee,

Even Nature hallows the firm spell,

And will not Nature plead for me,

When to my heart it speaks so well?

THE KNIGHTS' CONTEST.

A TALE OF THE OLDEN TIMES. BY THE AUTHOR OF THE

66 HERMIT IN LONDON."

It was on a fine autumn evening, after the great tournament which took place at Beaucoire, when the knights, who had entered the lists, were refreshing themselves, and indulging in the pleasures of the mantling goblet, whose purple tide restores our wasted strength, and casts an oblivion over the perils and the toils of war, that it was proposed by Sir Hildebrand de Percy that each knight should, subsequent to his toasting (on one knee) the ladye of his love, describe the force of his passion for her, and detail the feats which he had performed for her, the intensity and duration of his passion, together with the constancy and permanence of his flame; for they were already weary of discoursing on their deeds of arms in field of fight, joust, tourney, and rencontre. For myself," said Sir Hildebrand, who made the proposition, my tale is short-my well-deserving little; only boast of truth and fidelity. Here," taking up his helm, where his crest, a lion, was surmounted by a plume of white ostrich feathers, and adorned by a white true-lover's knot(his lady's favour)—" here,” said he, modestly, "is the history of my life. I have loved and served the Ladye Blanche for fourteen years; she was my first, and only, and will be my last, love. I have been stedfast in combat, not to fix a stain on her maiden colour; and I look forward to the time when the cross shall humble the crescent, and our moslemfoe be trampled in the dust, to call her mine.

I can

Let him who says more receive this golden goblet, curiously engraven, together with a wreath of myrtle, for his prize, To the Ladye Blanche," drinking, "I have loved none other!" and with that he sat him down, loud applause following his brief and manly harangue.

Every eye in the circle was now on Sir Reginald St. George. The knight was of high stature and proud bearing,

C

in the flower of youth, yet already well known in battle-plain and ladye's bower. He had cleft a Saracen to the saddlebow at the siege of Asculan, and was awarded the prize in the tournament of the Seven Champions, who fought for the Princess of Arragon. He had been the champion of many fair demoiselles, but had attached himself principally, most durably, and lastly, to the Lady Bertha, celebrated for her exquisite beauty. The violet favour, emblem of her springtide age and sweetness, was proudly placed over his crestthe dragon—and a profusion of green feathers hung down to the shoulder of his sword-arm. His coat of mail was splendid; his glaive had been empurpled with the best blood of the infidel host, and thus he spake :-" Of my young exploits, my winning my spurs, and maintaining my place as foremost in the van, I will say nothing; but for the ladye whom I serve, behold," loosening his cuirass, and showing his breast, "behold these scars. I have been in seven pitched-battles, and seven times as many single combats, since the Ladye Bertha put this chain about my neck, and fixed her colours on my crest. In all of these I invoked her name as my signal for victory, and in my last encounter with the Turkish leader I slew him, and, dipping this favour in his blood, I laid it, on my return, at the feet of the ladye of my love and service. To further fame I have no pretence. To the health of the Ladye Bertha, supreme in beauty and in virtue, gainsay it who dares!" The clapping of hands bore testimony of great approval, as the knight flung himself proudly and carelessly on his couch.

Sir Hugh de Tressy now rose: his complexion was bronzed by the Egyptian sun; a scar on his manly forehead proclaimed him brave amongst the brave. He was known to be the faithful knight of the Lady Geraldine, an imperious beauty, who met his passion with coldness and indifference, yet still did he serve her with truth and fervour; and, persevering in faithfulness and high renown, he still sought to obtain her heart by fondness and deeds of arms, which her fickle