CHAPTER I.

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(Bodleian Library)

HEIDELBERG.

-----

Vol. I.

HEIDELBERG.

A Romance.

BY

G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF

"THE SMUGGLER;" "ARRAH NEIL;" "THE STEP-MOTHER,"

ETC. ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.

1846.

London:

Printed by Stewart and Murray,

Old Bailey.

HEIDELBERG.

CHAPTER I.

The realities of the world are few and small; the illusions many and

vast. Not a sense that we possess, and hardly a faculty of the mind,

but serves to deceive us; wholly in some cases, and partially in all.

Yet, strip nature and life of these deceits, and what would earth

become?--what our existence here? See a small fly stepping over the

irregularities of a looking-glass and thinking the polished surface

but a rough and rugged plain, and we have some idea of what the world

would be, if we saw it as perhaps it is.

Amongst the sweetest and most friendly delusions, of all the many, is

the landscape-painting of imagination. Love, himself, I believe, does

not cheat us more, or more pleasantly. Let any traveller ask himself,

when he sets eyes upon a scene which he pronounces, at once, most

beautiful, how much of the loveliness is added by fancy. It may be a

grand, an expansive view, over a wide and varied country; but what is

the mind doing while the eye is contemplating it? Peopling it with

villages--laying it out in corn-fields and vineyards--filling it with

busy life and gay enjoyment; not distinctly, not tangibly; but still

the associations rise up in a golden mist, and spread a lustre over

all. It may be, on the contrary, a narrower scene: a cottage in a deep

glen, with old oaks overshadowing, and the thin blue smoke rising up

amongst the green leaves. There too, is imagination busy, with the

thoughts of calm retirement from a troublous world, and still, quiet

contemplation--the labourer's repose after his labour--the sweet

domestic home--the tender joy of tongues and faces loving and beloved.

There is but one great magician left on earth, and that is

Imagination.

Reader, I very often draw from my own heart and its experience--more

often than the world knows; and even now, I can conceive the

sensations of those two horsemen as they come at a foot pace over the

edge of the hill, where the splendid valley of the Neckar, with its

castled town and ancient woods, and giant mountains, first breaks upon

the eye. See how the sunshine of the summer evening, softened by the

light smoke of the city, pours through the long tall streets and over

the high walls and towers of massive stone: see how it catches on each

rocky point or prominent crag, as rounding the granite mass of the

King's Seat, in its decline towards the west, it covers the brows of

all his mountain peers with coronets of gold; and lo! where high

raised above the town, upon its platform of stone, stands out the

lordly castle in bright light and shade. The green, green Neckar,

flowing along in the midst, winds on through the long waving valley,

showing ripples of gold wherever, in the sunshine, the winds stir it

or the rocks obstruct, and, at each calmer spot, serves as a mirror to

the loveliness around; giving back the bright tints of hills and

woods, and town and bridge, with a lustrous clearness no other stream

can match. Even that boat, with its many coloured crew of peasantry,

shines out upon the face of the river in red and blue, and white and

brown, as if the very hues acquired a finer dye from the water that

but reflects them; and the fishing eagle, swooping down upon his finny

prey, strikes at it the more fiercely when he sees the image of

himself rushing to seize it also from below.

On a fine summer evening then, in the year 1619, two horsemen, coming

along the Bergstrasse, or mountain road, suddenly drew in their horses

as they reached the top of that little spur of the mountain called the

Heiligenberg, on which stands the village of Neunheim, and there

paused, gazing, as if in wonder and admiration, at the scene presented

to their eyes. For a moment or two neither spoke, for the height of

every emotion is silent; and ere a word was uttered, a small party,

which had followed, came up and took place behind them.

In those days great men drew their importance from the number of their

attendants. 'Tis the same even now, but the display is made upon a

different stage.

The horsemen who came first, however, were but accompanied by two

ordinary servants, two grooms or horseboys, each leading a baggage

horse heavily laden, and a page; small equipage for a man of station

at that period. Nevertheless there was that about the appearance of

each, which made the peasantry who passed them in numerous bodies, and

in their holiday clothes, take off their broad-brimmed hats and give

the strangers two looks ere they walked on. The reason why they did

this was not very apparent; for the persons who thus attracted the

attention of the good boors had nothing to excite admiration in their

dress. It is true, indeed, gentlemen were not at that time, any more

than at present, to be distinguished by their galligaskins; but still

the apparel of the two was rather plain than otherwise, consisting of

a common riding suit of dark cloth, with a small line of gold, and

boots and breeches of untanned leather. Their horses, indeed, were

fine, powerful, spirited beasts as ever were mounted; and though the

dust, that dimmed their glossy coats, showed that they had journeyed

far on a hot day, yet not a sign of fatigue was visible, and the

outstretched leg, ready to start again, the high raised head, and

expanded nostril, as they snuffed the air of the river, proved that

they had no expectation of their day's journey being yet, near an end.

There might be, indeed, some reason assigned why the country girls

took a second look before they went on, for the two travellers were

both young and handsome men; the one very dark, and three or four

years older than the other, who might perhaps be one-and-twenty, or

thereabouts, and whose face, though bronzed by exposure to sun and

weather, appeared to have been originally fair, if one might judge by

the clear, deep-blue eye and the rich brown hair, and moustache of

that peculiar hue which shows a golden gleam when the sun shines upon

it. He was tall and well formed, long in the arms, broad in the chest,

and spare in the waist and flank. The head and face were small, and

the features delicate, though not effeminate; the chin somewhat

projecting, and the eyes large and full, with a thick and strongly

marked eyebrow. When at rest the whole countenance had an expression

of gravity and decision beyond his apparent years, and there was

something in his air as he sat his horse, a look of command and free

thoughtful power, which seemed to bespeak one who, notwithstanding his

youth, had been long accustomed to regulate his own conduct and act

upon his own views.

The other was very different, yet still a handsome man, much darker in

complexion, not quite so tall, with a keen sharp black eye, under a

wide and somewhat projecting brow, marked gracefully by a dark,

arching, and somewhat raised line of eyebrow. The lips were thin, and

the line from the wing of the nose to the corner of the mouth strongly

marked, so as to give the ordinary expression of the countenance a

slight, a very slight touch of sarcasm; and yet there was a sort of

sparkling joyousness about it whenever he spoke, which we may as well

notice once for all, as it was the predominant look and was

exceedingly winning, although the cast of the mere features was stern

and determined.

As they paused and gazed, the face of the younger and fairer of the

two was full of admiration, pure, simple, and high; too deeply felt to

admit even of a smile. The other gazed over the landscape too, but

then for a moment turned his eyes with a half laughing glance,

withdrawn as soon as given, to his companion's face, as if he and his

feelings afforded as much matter for thought and examination as the

beautiful scene which had just presented itself.

At length, after a pause, of about two minutes, the younger

exclaimed,--

"How beautiful! how enchanting! and bursting upon us thus, it seems

like magic."

"Very lovely, indeed," replied his companion, with a smile; "and I

doubt not we shall find still lovelier things within those old grey

walls--at least let us fancy it; for fancy is the goddess that

embellishes all things, and is, even now, doing wonders in your mind,

Algernon, for the fair city of Heidelberg."

"I know not what fancy has to do with it," replied the other, gravely;

"methinks never was there a congregation of more beautiful objects

presented to the eye of man. Nature does everything here, William, we

have no need of fancy. Look at that town, that castle, those lordly

mountains, those green waving woods, the river gliding----"

"Like a golden lizard, you would say, amongst the stones," rejoined

his companion, interrupting him. "In pity let us have some figure of

speech to show that your admiration has not at least benumbed

imagination. A simile, a trope, a metaphor, even a hyperbole will do.

Can you not call them godlike towers? or figure me the mountains as

giant Titans, with a bushy beard of oaks and beeches? What has become

of all your flowers of rhetoric? You will never be able to keep pace

with the doctors and poets of the university, if you go on in this

dull style. Or is it that you have expended all the riches of your

poesy upon the fair dames you left behind in Italy, and have not got a

beggarly tester of fine words for the fair town of Heidelberg? or,

again, are you afraid of the exchequer running low, and are hoarding

your smart speeches with miserly avarice, to let love, like the

miser's son, squander them by-and-by upon the lovely dames of the

Electoral court?"

"Good faith!" replied the other, "I doubt much, my friend, whether I

shall see anything in any court so lovely to my eyes as that fair

range of mountains, out there upon the right, looking like sapphires

on a sky of gold."

"Improved! improved!" cried his companion, dropping his rein and

clapping his hands; "those sapphires and that gold come out most

splendidly. The poor Haardt, with her stony rocks, would be grateful

to you, doubtless, for thus enriching her; but let us on, I am for

living loveliness. Of all the landscapes I ever saw, the most

beautiful has been a rosy cheek and alabaster throat; the brightest

waters in the world for me, lie in the deep well of a dark blue eye;

and in all the sun-rises or sunsets that ever covered the sky with

crimson, there is nothing like the warm blush upon a young face, or

the dawning smile upon a rosy lip. Let us on, let us on, I say;

pleasure is the pursuit of life; let grave thoughts follow us, they

will catch us soon enough if we do not make haste and get before

them."

"'Twere a good philosophy, could it but last," answered his companion,

with a smile, touching his horse gently with the spur, and in a moment

more they were winding on by the side of the Neckar towards the old

bridge, which, like many another building there, was not destined to

see the present day.

Perhaps the younger of the two travellers felt that his companion was

right in what he had said regarding the ornamental powers of fancy,

when they passed the gates of Heidelberg and entered the town itself.

The sunshiny splendour of the valley was lost in the narrow streets

and tall dark houses; but still the shade was pleasant, for the

evening was hot; and there was something in the long lines of the

quaint, many-storied buildings, with their ornamented gables to the

streets and every here and there a gleam of sunshine breaking across

through an aperture--something in the gay crowds of people, in the

ringing laugh and cheerful buzz, even in the baskets of fruits and

flowers that obstructed every turning, which did much with a young and

enthusiastic mind, to compensate for the picturesque beauty of the

valley which they no longer beheld; and still, at the end of many of

the streets, the towers and walls of the castle were seen looking down

from its proud rock, with the green branches and rugged crags of the

mountain, towering up beyond.

"In the name of all that's sweet and savoury, let us get to our inn as

fast as we can," said the elder of the young men. "My ears are cracked

with the hoarse merriment of these overjoyous German throats; and my

nose feels feverish with all the vapours of garlic and sauerkraut

which it has imbibed since we passed the gates.--What is the name of

the inn, Tony?" he continued, turning his head to one of the servants

behind, a merry-looking fellow, with a good deal of shrewd humour in

his countenance.

"The Golden something, Sir William," replied the man; "but, by my

faith, I forget what. We have passed through so many golden and silver

vessels within the last month, that I am quite confounded by them. We

rode upon a golden goose last night; the day before it was a silver

moon; then we have had the cock of gold, the golden pitcher, the

golden crown, the silver cross, the silver staff, and the silver star.

We have had all sorts of fishes that ever swam in the sea, and all the

beasts that ever went into the ark, besides a number of monsters."

"Hush, sir, hush; give me a reasonable answer, and a short one,"

replied the gentleman; "and remember what your master told you, about

forgetting our names till you are permitted to remember them.--What

was the name of the inn, I say?"

"It was the Golden something, sir," replied the man, undismayed; "and,

if I must give it a name when I don't recollect the right one, I'll

give it the name of the Stag, by way of a change. We have not been at

a Stag for a week at least."

The other gentleman smiled; for he recollected, as soon as it was

named, that the hostelry to which they had been directed was really

the Stag; and he somewhat doubted that his servant had ever forgotten

it. "Now, then, William, to find it," he said; "for this town seems

full of signs. But here comes a man on horseback,--by his dusty boots

a traveller like ourselves,--German too, by the cut of his cloak and

the feather on the left side of his hat. We will ask him;" and,

spurring his horse forward a little, he met, at the corner of the

street, a well-dressed man about thirty years of age, who was riding

fast at the moment, but who checked his horse, when the other saluted

him courteously and, in very tolerable German, asked the way to the

Golden Stag.

"Follow me," replied the stranger, "and I will show you; I am going

thither myself:" and riding on, without waiting to see whether the

strangers accompanied him or not, he took his way round the great

church, and sprang to the ground at the steps of a large wide rambling

house, which bore, in bas relief, upon a panel in the second story,

the grotesque figure of a gouty stag, gilt, and ornamented with a

collar and chain. In the centre of the house there was a large

archway, with steps on each side, which were also brought round the

angle and all along the front on either side of the arch, forming a

sort of base to the whole building. A small door--that at which the

traveller halted--entered from the top of the steps, and this was

thrown open as soon as his approach was perceived from one of the

windows on the ground floor. At least half a score of drawers and

horseboys rushed out from various holes and corners about the

building. His horse was taken with every sign of respect; and the

low-bowing landlord, with night-cap in hand, the officious readiness

of all the domestics of the establishment, and the reverend greeting

of two men, whose badges and ribbons showed them to be the liveried

attendants of some high family, convinced the travellers who followed

closely, that their guide to the Golden Stag was a personage of some

importance in the town of Heidelberg.

The one turned round to the other and smiled, somewhat superciliously

perhaps; for the haughty contempt of other people's customs, and the

national pride, which undervalues the distinctions and ranks of

foreign countries, to exalt those of his own, were as much

characteristic of the native of a certain island in those days as at

present. That supercilious smile spoke the Englishman at once. Though

it would be very difficult to analyze philosophically the sensations

from which it sprang, perhaps it simply arose out of contempt for the

deference shown to a man, who would venture to wear a feather in a

different part of his hat from that in which the English generally

placed it. I do not mean to aver that it was so; but, from what I know

of my fellow-countrymen, I think it very probable. Strange to say too,

the countenance, on which this smile appeared, was that of the elder,

and, to all appearance, the more experienced and worldly of the two.

The other smiled not, but, checking his horse to a walk, as soon as he

was sure of the position of the Golden Stag, rode slowly up to the

house and dismounted, with a calm and deliberate air.

By this time the stranger had disappeared, as well as the landlord and

most of the attendants; but, nevertheless, the bustle of a new arrival

soon recommenced; and, in five or ten minutes more, the two travellers

were lodged in large, comfortable, but somewhat gloomy rooms, and had

the most positive assurance of the landlord that an excellent repast

was ready to be set before them the moment they thought fit to descend

to the common room and partake of it.

The servants and the page busied themselves in opening portmantles and

saddlebags. Ruffs, collars, velvet cloaks and laced doublets were

spread out upon the large old comfortable beds. An abundance of cold

water, together with the assistance of Italian essences and perfumery

removed all traces of travel from their persons; and when, at the end

of about half an hour, the younger of the two, with the page to show

him the way, descended to the hall, it would have been difficult,

perhaps, to find a more distinguished looking man within the limits of

Europe. He was evidently very young--youth could be traced, in every

gently flowing line, in the soft and rounded cheek, in the even,

unfurrowed brow; but there was an air of stately dignity in his

carriage; a calm, almost cold, firmness in the expression of his face,

which showed that, from some cause--either an early initiation into

life and the sad experiences of the world, or from a precocious

appreciation of the realities of things--the mind was older than the

man. This happens not unfrequently, and is somewhat strange in its

effects; but still more strange is the result, when a triple

combination takes place, as was in some degree the case with him; and

when the heart, too, remains young, after the judgment has become

mature, so that its passions, aided by the energies of the corporeal

frame, are placed in frequent antagonism, with a powerful and

over-ruling intellect.

The page threw open the door of a large room below, which looked

somewhat dark and gloomy; for the windows were small, the panelling

was of black oak, and the sun was on the other side of the house. It

was not solitary, however; for there, seated in one stiff tall-backed

chair, and his feet, divested of all travelling incumbrances, on

another, was the gentleman whom they had met in the streets of the

town, and who had served as their guide thither. His hat was cast upon

a small table, his sword lay beside it, his riding-boots had been

drawn off, and some time had been bestowed upon his toilet, too; for

his doublet and cloak had been changed; but yet the difference of

appearance produced did not seem very remarkable to an eye accustomed

to the most splendid courts in Europe.

To say truth, the young Englishman had not been very much prepossessed

in the stranger's favour. The brief bluff answer he had given when

addressed, the manner in which he had ridden on, with hardly a look to

see that they followed, seemed to him to betoken a want of courtesy,

with which, indeed, he was not inclined to quarrel, but which he did

not greatly admire. The other did not move when he entered either,

though certainly not unconscious of his presence; for the large,

clear, grey eyes were raised and fixed upon the new-comer, with a

firm, inquiring, almost insolent stare. It was unpleasant to the young

Englishman; but he did not come there to seek disputes; and, turning

to the page who waited at the door, as if for orders, he bade him tell

the landlord to serve the supper as quickly as might be, and then he

walked to the window, and gazed out at the varied scene which the

streets presented.

In two minutes he was lost in a reverie, forgetting altogether that

there was any other being in the room but himself; and, though the

other guest rose, moved his hat and sword, and walked up and down with

a heavy step, the sound these evolutions produced fell upon an

unconscious ear which had no power to carry them to a mind far away,

busied with other things.

In about five minutes the door again opened, a quick step was heard,

and the other English traveller, entering, advanced to his friend,

laid his hand upon his shoulder and exclaimed, in a gay tone.--"What,

in the depth again, Algernon! On my life, nature must have intended

you for an oyster. Leave you but a moment and you sink down into an

ocean of meditation, fix yourself firmly to the bottom, and would

remain there, I believe, for ever, with your shell half open, waiting

for what Providence would send to fill your mouth withal. But, on my

faith, I have no such patience; I am like the patriarch Isaac, and

have a longing for savoury meats--likewise, for some amusement. This

seems a wild boar of the forest. We must force him from his lair; and

he will show sport, depend upon it."

Hitherto he had spoken in English; but now, turning to the stranger,

with a low and somewhat extravagant bow, and yet with an air of

courtly ease, he said, in French: "We have to thank you, Monsieur, for

guiding us to this inn. I trust that the host will speedily give us

farther occasion for gratitude, by setting before us an excellent

supper.--I see he has laid three covers, from which I argue, that the

enjoyment of the repast is to be heightened to us by your

participating in it."

"It is my intention to sup before I go," replied the stranger, in very

tolerable French, though with a haughty tone; but the other was not to

be rebuffed; and, proceeding with great apparent good humour, but that

sort of exaggeration of courtesy which is rarely without a touch of

sarcasm in it, he soon engaged his German companion in more familiar

conversation and broke through the husk of reserve, in which he had at

first encased himself. His replies, when they became more frank and

free, showed a mind not uncultivated, an intellect of some extent, and

views in general just and powerful, though there was an alloy of

haughty presumption and somewhat irritable self-esteem, which became

ever more apparent, if not more offensive, as his reserve wore away.

In the midst of their conversation, the landlord and his satellites

entered with the supper. Two of the travellers' servants came in to

wait upon their masters; one of the attendants in livery, who had met

their German companion at the door, took a place behind his chair,

fluttering with ribbons and tags; and the three gentlemen applied

themselves to the satisfying of an importunate appetite. After a few

minutes the younger of the two Englishmen seemed to cast off his

thoughtful mood, gave himself up to the gay leading of his friend, and

laughed and jested likewise. The wine that was placed upon the table

did not seem at all to his taste, and pushing it from him with a

shudder, after the first drops had passed his lips, he pronounced it

vinegar disguised.

"Come, come, mine host," he said, looking over his shoulder to the

master of the inn, who had remained in the room, perhaps with a due

calculation of the excellence of the beverage he had served, in its

relation to the quality of his guests--for innkeepers, even then, were

not unaccustomed to make their wine the measure, or aristometre, of

those they entertained; "come, come, mine host, this is doubtless good

wine in its way, for those whom it suits; but we have ridden far and

want some more generous juice to refresh us. Let us have something

super-excellent, the very _bride_ of your cellar, as I think you call

it here in Germany; and mind that it be at least a hundred and fifty

times better than this or else it will not do."

"You speak good German, too," said the stranger, "and seem to know our

customs well, even to the tricks of our landlords. Were you ever here

before?"

"Not in this good town of Heidelberg," replied the young gentleman;

"but some three years ago, I passed through other parts of Germany on

my way to the south. The reason why I speak French to you is, that my

friend here does not understand the tongue of the country."

"'Tis a pity," replied the other, "the language is a fine one, and so,

methinks, strangers must find the country. I have travelled too,

myself, but never saw aught finer than this our valley of the Neckar."

"Most beautiful, indeed," rejoined the young Englishman; "so much so,

that I judge one might while away a day or two here very well."

"Methinks one may, or pass a life here either," rejoined their

companion, with a somewhat haughty and offended air. "The court of the

Elector Palatine is, I believe, second to few in Europe."

"What is that, Algernon, what is that?" cried the other Englishman,

who seemed to have comprehended part of what was said; "it is treason

to friendship to talk a language in my presence which is

unintelligible to my poor ears."

The other gentleman explained in French; and with a smile, slightly

sarcastic, his friend turned to their companion, exclaiming: "Is this

court so magnificent, then, indeed? We are ignorant of this part of

Europe, sir, having been long in the far south, sporting amongst

princes and lazaroni at Naples, jesting with priests, cardinals, and

popes at Rome, discussing pictures, statues, and points of religion

with painters, philosophers, and atheists at Florence, and masking and

making music with fair dames and reverend seniors in the City of the

waves. We have brought over a stock of vices and small-talk, I trust,

that would decorate any court in Christendom; and, faith, if yours is

such as you describe it, and fond of magnificence and merriment,

velvet and volubility, we must go up and visit it; and, doubtless,

shall be made much of, as our merits deserve."

"The access is not so easy as you may suppose, sir," answered the

other sternly; "it requires something else than a man's own account of

himself to gain entrance and esteem there."

"Ha! here comes our host with a very sagacious looking bottle," cried

the younger travellers, who thought, perhaps, his friend was pushing

his jests somewhat too far. "If those cobwebs have been spun round the

neck by thinner legs than your fingers, landlord, the wine would be as

sour as cider, or of an immortal quality."

"I will warrant you, sir," answered the host, putting down

long-stalked glasses, "if ever you tasted better in your days, say my

name is not Rheinhardt;" and he filled up to the brim for the younger

traveller and his companion.

Before the former tasted it, however, he pressed their fellow-guest to

join them and give his opinion of the wine; and, on his showing some

reluctance, added: "Nay, nay, if you refuse, I shall think that you

are offended with the light talk of my jesting friend there. You must

bear with him, you must bear with him, sir, for it is an inveterate

habit he has; and he could sooner go without his dinner than his joke,

at whosoever's expense it is indulged. It is the custom of the country

we come from last; for there it is so dangerous to speak seriously on

any subject, that men take refuge in a jest as in a redoubt."

The stranger seemed satisfied with this explanation, joined in their

wine, pronounced it excellent, forgot his haughty air; and, returning

to the subject which they had left, began to expatiate once more upon

the beauty, splendour, gallantry, and wit of the court of the Elector,

Frederic V., when suddenly a loud explosion, which seemed to shake the

solid walls of the old building, and was echoed for several seconds by

the rocks and mountains round, interrupted his declamation, and made

the two Englishmen gaze in each other's face.

Ere they could inquire farther, another roar, and then another, was

heard; and, turning to their German companion, the elder exclaimed:

"In the name of our fair lady Fortune! what is the meaning of this? Is

the castle besieging the town, or the town the castle? Or have you

imported Mount Vesuvius to warm you here from time to time with an

eruption, and preserve the antiquities of the place in ashes,

pumice-stone, and sulphur?"

"Neither, my good sir," answered their fellow-traveller, who had

remained totally unmoved; "it is but the guns of the castle firing in

honour of the Elector's birth-day, the nineteenth of August; for on

this day and hour, now three-and-twenty years ago, our noble prince

was born in the good town of Amberg. There is a grand banquet at the

castle to-day; but, ride hard as I would, I was too late for it, and

so must content myself with going to the reception in the evening,

which, they say, will be one of unusual magnificence."

"Faith, then, I think we will go there too," said the elder of the two

Englishmen; "doubtless we shall see collected all the beauty of the

Court Palatine."

"If you get admission," rejoined the other drily.

"Oh, that is beyond all doubt," was the bantering reply: "your prince

can never be such a barbarian as to refuse the pleasures of his court

to two such proper young men as ourselves, especially as we have the

honour and advantage of your acquaintance."

"I fancy you will find him sufficiently, civilized to do so," said the

other sharply; "and my acquaintance, sir, can only be beneficial to

those of whose name and station I am informed. I may as well at once

give you to understand, knowing this court, and being connected with

it, that you will not be admitted unless you be properly introduced."

There was a degree of arrogance in his tone, more than in his words,

that at once amused and offended the younger of the two gentlemen;

and, after his companion had exclaimed, "Then must we die without

benefit of clergy," he turned towards the other gentleman, saying,

with a grave smile,--

"We have a bad habit, sir, in England, of proving the strength of our

own convictions by laying wagers on any subject of dispute. If such

were the custom here, I would ask you what you will bet that I and my

friend here will not go up to the castle this very night, and, without

any introduction whatsoever, without naming our names, stating our

rank, or disclosing our pursuits, receive kind hospitality from the

elector, and pass the evening with his court."

The personage whom he addressed replied first with a laugh, and then

said: "Perhaps you may find your way in, for the attendants are not

likely to drive back a well dressed man; but if the elector's eye

falls upon you, that of his chamberlain, or any of his high officers,

you will soon be expelled, depend upon it, unless you divulge your

names."

"Not so," replied the other; "I will go straight to the elector; I

will refuse to divulge my name, and yet I will pass the evening there;

on all which I will stake a hundred crowns. You yourself shall be the

witness, as you say you are going; but, of course, it is understood

that you do and say nothing to impede my proceedings."

"Done!" cried the other, striking his hand on the table; "I take your

wager. Methinks I should know this court better than you can."

"I have known many courts," answered the young man, with a

good-humoured laugh, "and never yet found one in which impudence and a

cool face could not make its way. So now let us be friends and shake

hands upon our wagers, which shall be decided as soon as you are

ready."

The stranger took his hand, not very cordially, and replied: "We must

wait a little; the banquet will be scarcely over yet. I would fain

know, too," he added, "who are to be my companions in entering the

elector's court."

"Oh! make yourself perfectly easy," replied the elder of the two young

men; "you shall seem to know nothing of us from the moment you pass

the gate; nay, with this sweet world's simple versatility, shall turn

the shoulder coldly to those with whom you have climbed the hill the

moment you have reached the top. The truth is, honourable sir, my

friend and myself have resolved not to reveal our real names while

travelling in these foreign lands. As a matter of course, we have each

packed up with our saddle-bags and portmantles, a fresh and

well-conditioned name for the nonce. He is called Algernon Grey: I

have been known for some months past as William Lovet. We do not ask

you to believe that our godfathers and our godmothers, at our

baptisms, were at all familiar with these appellations, either nomen

or prenomen; nevertheless, it is a whim we have, and we request our

excellent friends to humour us therein. Those who would do us

reverence, tack esquire to the end of each name, to designate the

lowest rank of gentlemen in England qualified to bear arms; but we are

not particular, and even when that title is omitted, the bare name

does very well without."

"So be it then," said their companion, gravely. "You will have to

ride, Master Lovet, as perhaps you know, for it is somewhat difficult

to find carriages here that would drag you up that hill! But you make

your boots large," he continued, playing upon an expression commonly

used in Germany at that time, to express a man who stood upon little

ceremony--"But you make your boots large, and therefore your hose will

escape soiling. I go to get mine on;" and rising, he left the room.

The younger traveller, whom we shall henceforth call by the name he

thought fit to assume, was inclined to fall into a fit of musing

again; but the other leaned over the table, saying: "Ask the fellow's

name, Algernon. He seems a sullen and discourteous dog, unwilling, or

unable, to understand a jest."

"Good faith! you began like a young haggard, William," replied his

companion, "dashing straight at your game, without waiting to see its

flight. All men are not ready to jest with every stranger. He may have

good qualities, though he seems haughty enough;" and turning to one of

the attendants of the inn, he asked, in German, the name of the

gentleman who had just left the room.

"That, sir, is the Baron Oberntraut," replied the man, with a low

reverence; "he is the only son of the master of the horse to the

elector, and a captain of cuirassiers."

"What! the same who distinguished himself so much in the campaign of

Juliers?" cried the young gentleman.

"The same, sir," answered the man. "He was very young then; but he did

great things, I have heard."

"By my honour! he has some reason to be proud," observed Algernon

Grey; "but come, William, let us get ready too. Order the horses

round, Tony.--I suppose they are not tired with our short march."

"Tired, sir!" replied the man. "Lord bless you! with the oats they

have got into them since they came, they'd take the castle up there as

if it were a five-barred gate. I heard Hob say that Barbary had eaten

a peck and a half, while you were changing your cloak!"

"If that were the first lie he ever told, it might be worth

repeating," said William Lovet; "but let us go, Algernon. I am all on

fire for the beauties of the fair Elizabeth's court; and if I can find

out which is this Oberntraut's mistress, on my soul I will plague

him."

CHAPTER II.

"Who is that, who is that?" cried the small shrill voice of a little

deformed boy, who stood as near to the gate of the castle as the

soldiers would let him--and, to say the truth, they had suffered him

to approach somewhat nearer than their orders warranted, in respect

for a tall, beautiful, well formed girl, his sister, who held him by

the hand.

"Which do you mean, Hans?" asked his fair companion. "That one, in the

black and gold doublet, and the cloak lined with crimson? That is the

young Baron of Oberntraut, the Great Captain, who defeated the

Austrians on the other side of the Rhine."

"He does not look to me like a great captain," said the small sharp

voice proceeding from the narrow and protuberant chest. "I thought he

would have been all in armour, as the soldiers were once, when I saw

them ride through the streets."

"Is that a Frenchman?" asked one of the lower order of students, who

was leaning in studied, not to say affected negligence, with his arm

round the neck of one of his fellows. "Do you see how he wears his

hat? and in what a jaunty way he has thrown his cloak all upon his

left shoulder, as if he wished to keep the hilt of his sword warm?"

"Oh, he may keep it warm enough in Heidelberg, if he like," rejoined

the other student to whom he spoke; "we'll give it work, if it want

it; but which do you mean, Frederic? for there are two of them--the

black cock or the white one?"

"The fair one," replied the former speaker; "the one in the philimot

and gold; he is a proper man, Carl, and, I should think, ready enough

to use his rapier, if one may judge by his look."

"Oh, looks are nothing," replied the other; "but I should think he is

no Frenchman. More likely an Englishman, come, like the rest of them,

to flutter at our court."

"Come away, wife, come away," said a jolly, fat citizen, with an

ace-of-clubs nose and a beard tolerably sprinkled with grey, to a

pretty woman, some twenty years younger, who stood beside him, holding

the hand of a little boy about four or five years old--"It is full

time for us to be getting home; don't you see the sun is nearly

down--one half behind the hills there? and it will be dark before we

reach the door. There, come along; you are a great admirer of fair

men, I know: but, methinks, you should have had enough of them

to-night; so let us homeward, if you would not have yon gallant kiss

his hand to you, as a reward for your staring."

While this conversation and much of a similar kind had been going on

amongst the numerous groups, which had assembled round the outward

Burgthor, or castle-gate, of the fine old palace of the Electors

Palatine, the party of three gentlemen and seven servants, which had

slowly wound up the long and steep ascent from the town to the castle,

had reached the flat at the top, and were passing over the drawbridge,

which then existed at the Burgthor, into that wide extent of ground,

which was inclosed by the great wall of the fortress. Whether it was

that the presence of Oberntraut, who was well known to the soldiery,

procured them free admission, or that the guards had only orders to

keep out the ordinary citizens of the place, the whole party were

suffered to proceed, without opposition, and rode on to the

bridge-house, while fine strains of martial music, wafted by the wind

from the great court of the castle, and the sound of many a gay and

musical voice from the gardens round, told that the revelry of the

Elector's birth-night was still going on with undiminished spirit.

Under the arch of the bridge-house, two of the guards crossed their

partizans before the horses, and Oberntraut, anxious to show that he

kept his word, in not throwing any impediment in the way of the two

Englishmen, turned his head, saying in German, "You must dismount

here, being visitors; I ride into the court, as one of the Elector's

household."

The soldiers instantly raised their halberts to let him pass with the

two servants, who had accompanied him from the inn. At the same

moment, one of Algernon Grey's attendants sprang to his stirrup, to

aid him in dismounting; and, giving his sword to his page to carry,

the young gentleman and his friend disencumbered themselves of the

large riding boots of the day--which, be it remarked, easily covered

shoes and all--and passing between the guards, with a confident air,

as if there could be no earthly doubt of their admission, walked on,

under the archway of the great square tower, into the wide court-yard.

The scene was a very brilliant one, which was now presented to

their eyes. Crowds of attendants, belonging either to the household

of the Elector Palatine himself, or to those of the great nobles

of his court, were scattered thickly over the wide space

before them--sometimes standing in groups of eight or nine

together--sometimes moving hither and thither, with quick or

sauntering pace; and every colour of the rainbow, in its very

brightest tints, was to be seen displayed in the gorgeous costume of

the day. Neither was there any lack of lace and embroidery, plumes,

sword-knots, and fluttering scarfs; and, around this gay flower-bed,

rose up, in the faint evening light, innumerable and irregular masses

of building, of every period and of every style, the remains of which

can still be traced, slowly mouldering away under the hand of time,

and presenting to the thoughtful eye a sad picture of the end of all

great designs; a bitter lesson to man's presumptuous hopes, a dark but

chastening admonition to joy, prosperity, and power.

On the right hand, under a wide arcade supported by graceful columns,

was a large and skilful band of musicians, making the air ring with

the sounds of their instruments. Upon the left, in darkness, such as

time casts upon all man's doings, was a pile of architecture, the

light and graceful lines of which betokened a very early period of

construction. Nearly in the centre of the court rose up a fountain;

the sparkling jets of which caught and reflected the rosy light which

had spread over the sky above. Farther on, to the right, appeared a

vast mass in the Italian taste, covered with rich and splendid

ornaments--statues, arabesques, and pilasters--and pierced with

innumerable windows, from which bright lights were shining, showing

that the sun's decline was felt within. In more than one other place,

too, on both sides and in front, a taper, or a lamp might be seen

passing slowly on from room to room across the various casements,

affording a sort of mysterious interest to a fanciful mind, as the eye

of the young Englishman rested on the dark piles to the west, from

which the sunshine had for several hours departed.

Grouped together near the fountain, and held by grooms and stable

boys, were a number of horses, richly caparisoned; and near them was

seen the form of the Baron of Oberntraut, slowly dismounting and

speaking to his two servants, as if waiting to give time for his late

companions to come up.

"That is civil and honourable of him," said Algernon Grey, as they

advanced towards him.

"A good deal of self-confidence in it," answered the other; "he feels

so sure of winning his bet, that he wishes to prove to us that it is

done by no unfair advantage."

"Still the worst side of everything!" rejoined his friend, with a

grave smile, and moved on. But as soon as Oberntraut perceived them

within a few yards, he himself advanced towards a flight of steps

before one of the principal buildings, where an open door and a blaze

of light, displayed a low arched hall, crowded with attendants. His

step was slow and stately, but though, before he had reached the top

of the steps, the two Englishmen were close to him, he took not the

slightest notice of them, and passed on.

Several other persons were, at the moment, advancing in the same

direction; and Lovet whispered to his companion; "Follow the stream,

follow the stream." Algernon Grey did so, and found himself guided by

the rest to what seemed the great staircase of the castle. It was not

indeed so magnificent, either in its proportions or its decorations,

as the splendour of the exterior might have led a traveller to expect;

but what it wanted in architectural beauty was supplied by extrinsic

decoration of great taste, consisting of flowers and shrubs and

branches disposed in such manner as to mingle the harsh lines of the

grey stone pleasantly and symmetrically with the graceful bends of the

green foliage. An object had been sought and attained very much

neglected in those times, namely, the perfect lighting of the

staircase; for, although the day had hardly closed, the lamps were

already gleaming along the balustrades, not with a harsh and

overpowering glare, but with a tempered brightness, which showed all

that could please and captivate the eve and yet left a dim

indistinctness, not disagreeable, over the rest. Five or six persons

preceded the young Englishmen in their ascent, some speaking together,

some silent and lonely; but all turned to the left on reaching the

top, and passed through a guarded door, round which a number of

attendants were standing, into a small ante-chamber, where a single

officer appeared leaning his hand upon a table.

No questions were asked of any of those who went before Algernon Grey

and his friend; and he with calm and grave deliberation followed,

neither looking to the right nor the left, nor taking the slightest

notice of a whispered inquiry, which he heard running amongst the

servants, as to who and what he was. William Lovet, in his ignorance

of the language, was also ignorant of all such perils to their

enterprise; and, with a gay and well-assured look, followed close upon

his companion's steps, adjusting the glittering tie of his sword-knot

and thrusting his rapier a little further back.

The moment they entered the ante-room, Algernon Grey marked that the

Baron of Oberntraut paused for an instant at the opposite door, as if

to see whether the officer on duty would stop them, or require their

names. The latter immediately advanced a step or two; but then, to the

surprise of all present, he gave the two gentlemen a lowly salutation,

and drew back to the table again.

A slight smile curled Algernon's handsome lip; and, with a tone of

dignity, he said aloud, addressing the officer: "Will you be pleased,

sir, to inform the Elector Palatine personally, if you can have his

ear for a moment, that two English gentlemen of befitting rank, who

for reasons of their own decline to give their names, crave his

gracious permission to witness the splendours of his court this night,

and to tread a measure in his hall with the fair dames of our own fair

princess. We ask it with loyal hearts and true, well aware of what we

do, and not venturing to request aught unbecoming of him to grant, or

us to receive."

The officer bowed, and, turning towards those without, said: "Keep the

door!" and then, advancing towards the inner chamber, seemed to answer

quickly a question of Oberntraut, who had lingered near the entrance,

and then passed on.

"Now are your hundred crowns in peril, Algernon," said William Lovet;

"a fair new saddle-cloth embroidered in gold, a silver bit and gilt

stirrups, together with an ear-ring of nineteen carats and a ruby, to

say nothing of a new kerchief to Madge, Marianne, or Margery, all hang

upon the chance of the fair delivery of a simple message by an

ante-chamber officer of an Elector Palatine. Heaven save the mark! if

the pretty maid with the brown eyes, who was likely in the course of

time and by the concatenation of circumstances, to have that kerchief

at your hands, now knew upon what a rash cast you have risked it,

would she not fret and scold at the probable result of the bet at the

Golden Stag?"

"She would be silly so to do," replied Algernon Grey. "I have no fears

of money going out of my purse to-night; the good man will deliver his

message aptly enough, I am sure; and the message, of which you

understood not a word, was just the bait to catch the young Elector

with his notions of chivalrous gallantry. Hark, what a buzz comes

through the doorway. Methinks half the palatinate must be here; and

see how the figures glide about across and across--now in blue and

silver--now in green and gold--now in black and pearls, like painted

shadows in a showman's box. But here comes our messenger, and with him

a very grave and reverend personage with a beard of an ell long. Let

us advance to meet him, as if we knew his inward dignity at once by

his outward shape."

With the same stately carriage which he had lately assumed, Algernon

Grey took a few slow steps forward, to meet a somewhat corpulent

gentleman, whose hair and colouring seemed to bespeak a hasty and

choleric temperament, and then made him a low bow. The officer, who

had been in waiting in the ante-chamber, pointed with his hand to the

two Englishmen, saying: "These are the two gentlemen;" and the other,

who followed, returned their salutation, scanning them for a moment

with his eye ere he spoke.

"It is the Elector's pleasure, sirs," he said at length, "that I

introduce you to his presence;" and once more he gazed at them from

head to foot, in a somewhat haughty and supercilious manner.

But Algernon Grey was not to be provoked out of his caution; and, with

a very slight inclination of the head, he replied: "The Elector is

gracious; we are at your command."

There was nothing more to be said; and therefore the Electoral officer

wheeled his large person round, and, with a somewhat more civil

gesture than he had hitherto used, led the way into the chamber

beyond. It was filled with numerous persons of both sexes, dressed in

the gorgeous costume of the day; and certainly the court of the

mightiest monarch in Europe could not have displayed greater splendour

of apparel, or greater beauty of person, than appeared at that of the

Count Palatine. People of all nations and all languages were there;

and amongst the busy crowds which moved hither and thither, every hue

of hair, every shade of complexion was to be seen; from the

fair-haired, blue-eyed children of the north, to the dark

Transylvanian, and the swarthy Moor. Through all the throng the

chamberlain of the Elector cleared a way for himself and the two who

followed: the rotundity of his person acting as a sort of human wedge,

which left a vacancy behind it; and many a head was turned to gaze

upon the young strangers; it being remarked that they looked neither

to the right nor the left, as if they did not wish to recognise or be

recognised by any one, should there, by chance, be found an

acquaintance amongst the varied multitude.

Although the immense masses of the castle, as they had seen it from

the outside, had impressed them with a strong idea of its vastness,

yet, from some cause or another, Algernon Grey had expected to find

the Elector and his fair wife in the room beyond the ante-chamber.

Indeed its extent was so great, its decorations so sumptuous, and the

groups it contained so numerous, that it might well have been supposed

the audience-hall of a great prince. But everything in the castle of

Heidelberg, at that period was upon so magnificent a scale, that no

acquaintance with other palaces enabled a visitor to judge of what was

to be his reception here. It contained, in those days, a suite of ten

splendid saloons, one opening into the other and each covered with

lavish ornament. Through the whole of these, till at length they

reached what was called the silver chamber, the two young Englishmen

were led, before they found the object of their search.

Two pages, one stationed on each side of the wide door way, held up

the curtains of white velvet and silver, which hung from huge rings

above; and as Algernon entered, a more quiet scene than those he had

just passed, but still a very striking one, presented itself to his

eyes. At the farther side of the room, perhaps at a distance of forty

or fifty feet, standing a little in advance of two chairs of state,

were seen Frederic and the Electress, both in the pride of youth and

beauty. The features of neither were perfectly regular, but the face

of each had its own peculiar charm of expression, the one beaming with

graceful kindness and dignified good humour, the other sparkling with

wit, imagination, and soul. Strikingly, though not regularly handsome,

certainly they were; and seeing them standing there, clothed in

similar colours, of the same age, slightly contrasted complexion, with

only that difference in height which might well exist between the

husband and the wife, one might have been tempted to think that no two

people had ever been more fitly matched, had but the countenance of

Frederic possessed more energy and determination of character.

Elizabeth stood on her husband's right hand; and on his left were seen

first a page, holding his sword, and then a group of the glittering

nobles of his court; but on the right of the Electress, were assembled

twelve or thirteen of the fairest flowers of Christendom, all robed

nearly alike in white and silver; their marble brows and glossy hair

bound with garlands, as it were, of diamonds and pearls. In other

parts of the room--near the windows--near the doors--under the arches

on either side, were several other groups conversing in a low tone;

but the middle was vacant, at least when Algernon Grey entered; and he

was advancing after his guide, towards the young sovereign before him,

when suddenly, from a group on his right, a glittering courtier of

about his own age started forward, and held out his hand.

The visitor, however, placed his finger on his lip, saying in a low

tone, "Not a word, Craven,[1] we are to be as strangers here."

The other instantly drew back again, with a smile; but William Lovet

nodded to him gaily, and then followed his friend.

This little interlude had not caught the Elector's eye, for at that

moment the Baron of Oberntraut passed before him, and bowing low, took

his place amongst the gentlemen on the left.

Elizabeth, however, saw it, and smiled, and then whispered a word in

her husband's ear. Frederic's eyes were immediately turned upon the

young Englishmen, who were now within a few paces; and a look of

pleasure came over his countenance, while he replied in a low tone to

what his wife had said.

The next moment the chamberlain interposed with a low and formal bow,

saying, "These are the gentlemen, your Highness; I know not how else

to introduce them to you, as they do not think fit to grace me with

their names; but your pleasure being that they should have admittance,

I have obeyed you in bringing them to your presence." This said in a

grave and formal tone, he drew back upon the prince's left.

"You are welcome, gentlemen," said Frederic. "Though you deny your

name--and we will let that pass unquestioned--we must, as sovereign of

this land, inquire what brings you hither: having due regard for the

safety of our subjects, to the fairer part of whom, methinks, you

might prove dangerous."

While he spoke, a playful and good-humoured smile curled his lip; and

Algernon Grey answered in a respectful but yet gay tone; "I must reply

to your Highness with one of our English players,--

'A roving disposition, good my lord.'

Such was the evil cause that brought us to the fair Palatinate. Being

there, we heard that this day your Highness held a high revel, and,

longing to see the wonders of this court, we ventured hither, craving

leave to tread a measure with any fair dame who will so honour us."

"I fear me much," said Frederic, in the same tone of courteous

jesting, "that you are two perilous young men."

"He, my lord, is perilous young," replied Lovet, pointing to his

companion; "God send that I may have a good title to the same

character for the next twenty years; but, I doubt me much, it is

passing away from me."

"We are all upon a road where there are no inns," answered the

Elector, somewhat more gravely; "but what I fear is, that you bring

danger with you, and I doubt much that I must order you into

confinement, unless you can find bail and surety."

"Nay, my good lord, I will be their bail," cried Elizabeth of England

gaily; "and to make all sure, I will put them in gentle ward, so that

they commit no offence while in your dominions.--Here, Agnes," she

continued, "and you, my fair Countess of Laussitz, you shall be their

warders, and remember, that, throughout this whole night, whether in

the dance or at the table, in the halls or in the gardens, you lose

not sight of your several prisoners for a moment. Stay," she

continued, "although my good lord is inclined to treat them thus

severely, I will be more gentle, as becomes a lady, and let each

choose into whose captivity he will fall. What say you, sir?"

"By your Highness's gracious permission," replied Algernon Grey, to

whom her words were addressed, "as there can be no want of gallantry

in a choice where I know neither, I will surrender myself to the lady

you first mentioned."

"That is you, Agnes," said the Electress; "come forward and take

possession of your prisoner."

As the princess spoke, a young lady, who stood a little behind,

advanced with a light step, but with some slight timidity of manner,

and a cheek more flushed than it was the moment before. The timidity,

however, appeared but to add new grace to that which, even before,

seemed perfect; and Algernon Grey gazed upon her in evident surprise

and admiration, feeling himself right happy in his choice.

It is very difficult to convey in language any just idea of those

various distinctions and shades of beauty, which the eye seizes in a

moment, but which escape from words; and it would be almost doing

injustice to the fair girl, who now approached the princess's side, to

attempt a detailed description. To give some idea, however, of her

person, as the portraits, still existing, represent her, it may be

enough to say, that she was certainly not above the middle height, but

with every limb so exquisitely formed, that she looked taller than she

really was. Her rich brown hair, with chestnut gleams upon it, fell in

profuse abundance down her neck, in the fashion of the day. Her

eyes were neither blue, nor brown, nor grey, but of that soft and

soul-speaking hazel, so rarely seen and yet so exquisitely beautiful;

while the long dark eyelash and arched brow lent themselves to every

shade of expression, from deep and pensive thought to light and

sparkling gaiety. The features were all small and delicate, the skin

pure as alabaster, with a sunset glow upon the cheek. And the slightly

parted lips, showing the pearly teeth beneath, seemed tempting love

and promising return. The small, fine hand, the beautifully formed

foot and ankle, the graceful neck and swelling bosom, the very turn of

the head, all seemed like the dream of a sculptor in some moment of

inspiration. And to crown all, was that breathing of the soul through

every feature and through every part, which invests each movement with

some new charm.

Algernon Grey gazed upon her, I have said, with a look of admiration

and surprise; and the keener and shrewder eye of William Lovet, too,

ran over her face and figure, but with a very different expression. It

lasted but for a moment, and then he turned his gaze upon his friend,

marking well the gleam of surprise that sparkled on his countenance. A

slight smile curled his lips; but, when Algernon Grey advanced and

took her hand, at the Princess's command, those lips moved; and, had

any one been near, he might have heard him say, in a low tone, "This

will do, methinks."

Another eye, too, marked the whole proceeding; but, in this instance,

the brow became clouded, the moment the young Englishman's hand

touched that of his fair companion; and, setting his teeth hard in his

lower lip, the Baron of Oberntraut turned away his head, as if not to

expose the discontent which was too plainly written on his face.

"I am ready, may it please your Highness," said William Lovet,

advancing as soon as Algernon and his partner had drawn back, "to

submit myself entirely to your high commands; but I do beseech you to

lighten my chains by making them of roses, and bidding my fair gaoler

issue her orders in French, English, or Italian, as I fear my purse is

very empty of German coin; and if she have none other, the exchange

would be much against me."

"Fear not," replied the Princess; "we all speak French here. Come,

fair Countess, take your prisoner, treat him well, but watch him

carefully; and, to amuse his sad hours of captivity, show him all that

is worth seeing in our humble court."

The lady, to whom she spoke, was in the first rank of those on her

right; and William Lovet had no cause for dissatisfaction with his

fate for the evening. The lady was tall and fair, but sparkling with

beauty and youth; and a merry mouth, a sleepy and love-languid eye

presented to his imagination all those qualities best suited to his

taste. He was speedily in full career of jest and gallantry with his

fair companion, and seemed at first to make more progress with her

than Algernon Grey could boast with his partner for the night.

After a pause of a few moments, the Elector turned to the Marshall of

his household, and asked if any more guests were arriving or expected.

The reply was "None;" and waving his hand, the Prince said in a gay

tone; "Then, let us break off our state, and, for an hour or two,

enjoy ourselves with the rest. Lords and ladies, to your several

pastimes; and, according to a proverb, which I learned in England, let

us all be merry and wise."

Thus saying, he drew the arm of the Electress through his own, and

moved towards the doors of the hall. His departure was a signal for

the dispersion of the court; the ceremonial part of the evening's

occupations was at an end; and--ranging through the long suite of

rooms which had been thrown open, going forth into the gardens and

terraces--in general brightly illuminated by painted lanterns--some

seeking the dance, some conversation--each endeavoured to amuse

himself as best he might upon that night of festivity and rejoicing.

CHAPTER III.

The fate that hangs over the death-doomed race of man appalls us not.

We wander where generations have grown up and bloomed, borne fruit,

and passed away, without a homily in our hearts; we tread upon the

very graves of a thousand races, we walk over the huge burial place of

the world, and give not a thought to the fellow dust that sleeps

below. Strange and marvellous insensibility! whence does it spring? Is

it from mere levity that we thus rise above the deep thoughts of our

inevitable doom? Or is it from a high sense of loftier destinies, an

intimate conviction of the imperishable elevation of one part of our

mixed nature? Or is it indeed--more likely than either--that while we

see the spring of life still gushing forth and pouring out stream

after stream as each river is dried up, a consciousness steals over us

that we are but the parts of one beautiful whole undergoing

everlasting change to the glory of Him who made it all? We behold

creation full of life: the herb, the flower, the beating heart, the

pliant fin, the soaring wing, the thought-stored brain, all speak of

that strange mysterious fire which warms the universe, bursting out

wherever eye can reach or fancy penetrate, unextinguished,

unextinguishable but by the will that called it into being. We see,

and know it; and, instinct with the divine essence, rejoice in the

light that is granted, for the time that it can be enjoyed, while the

promise of its permanence and the hope of its increase shade over _the

one dark moment_ with a veil of gold.

Amidst buildings, that are now ruins, through scenes that are in a

great part desolate, over terraces and amongst parterres, now no

longer to be seen, was kept up, throughout that night, revel and

merriment and joy, without a thought given to the ages passed away, or

to those who had been denizens of earth and partakers of all earth's

pleasures, upon that same spot for unnumbered centuries before. The

present hour, the present hour! the joy of the existing short-lived

moment! the taste of the ripe fruit, without the cloud of the past or

the sun of the future! were then, are still, and may be for ever

hereafter, the sole occupation of the gay and happy spirits, such as

the guests there assembled.

It was too much so indeed; for, in those young days of bright domestic

happiness, Elizabeth of England and her joyous, lighthearted husband

drained to the dregs the joy-cup of prosperity and power; and,

educated in the ideas of, though differing in views from the queen of

James the First, the Electress was strongly tinged with those notions

of freedom bordering upon levity, which were entertained by Ann of

Denmark. Not that I mean for one moment to cast a stain upon a name,

with which history has dealt justly, I believe, in dealing tenderly;

but it is undoubted, that the Electress, if sufficiently reserved in

her own manners, and perfectly pure in her own conduct, gave great

encouragement, in the court of her husband, to that abandonment of

ordinary and conventional restraints, which can only be safe amongst

the high-minded and the chivalrous, and not always even then. She held

with Ann of Denmark, that women had as much right, and might be as

safely trusted with the entire and unwatched direction of their own

actions, as men; that those harsh restrictions and suspicious

guardianships, which have grown up out of a complicated and artificial

state of society, might well and wisely be dispensed with; and that

the sole cause of there being any danger to woman herself, or to the

world in general, from allowing her the same freedom, which man

monopolizes, was the early restraint, which denied experience, as the

guide of reason and the demonstration of principle.

Thus a degree of freedom--I will not call it license, for that is a

harsh term, and implies according to modern acceptation, much more

than I mean--reigned in the electoral court; and, although more than

seven hundred guests were there assembled on the night I speak of, in

addition to the noble part of a household numbering constantly more

than a thousand members, no one, unless from some private and peculiar

reason, thought it in the least necessary to watch the proceedings of

others, whether male or female. Doubtless the Electress was right in

many of the views she maintained, abstractedly speaking; but

unfortunately it happens, that to every theory, however just in

itself, certain small practical circumstances oppose themselves,

affecting its application most momentously. I will illustrate, in some

degree, what I mean. Formerly, in the silver mines of Spain, as at

present in the soil of Illyria, I believe, a certain mineral was to be

found very much resembling silver in colour--weighty, bright and

fluid. Taken in its native state, it is innocuous and very

inefficient; but add a few drops of a certain nearly colourless acid

to it, and it becomes a valuable medicine; add a few drops of another

acid, and it becomes the most virulent of poisons. Now the small

circumstances, for which no allowance is ever made, are the few drops

of acid, which in the furnace of the world render the most innocent

theory possible, either highly beneficial, or terribly pernicious. I

speak not, of course, of principles, for they are fixed; but merely of

theories at first sight indifferent.

However, such as I have stated, was the Court of the Elector Palatine

in the year one thousand six hundred and nineteen, and in the month of

August in that year: a period pregnant with great events, when the

fate of the Palatinate--nay, the fate of Europe--nay, immeasurably

more, the progress of society and the march of the human mind

throughout the whole world, hung trembling in the balance; and yet

there they were, the gay, the lighthearted, the enthusiastic, the

moveable, all, apparently, creatures of impulse alike, enjoying with

less restraint, than the world had often seen before, the happiness of

the present hour. Music and the dance, gay conversation, light jest

and playful wit had excited heads and hearts alike. The heat of the

saloons had become oppressive; the glare of the lamps and tapers had

dazzled and fatigued the eyes; the moving objects, the brilliant

dresses, the beaming jewels, the straining race after pleasure, had

become fatiguing to many; and some forty or fifty pairs, hand in hand,

or arm in arm, had wandered out to seek the refreshing coolness of the

gardens, to repose the mind, and invigorate the body in the fresh

night air of August, or else to tell the tale of love and seek its

return, under the broad green foliage of the trees, or the twinkling

eyes of the deep blue sky of night.

Algernon Grey and his fair companion stood side by side in one of the

deep windows of the hall where they had trod one dance, and he marked

the disappearance of many, who had been for some time in the same

chamber, by doors which led he knew not whither. Had the lady remained

as timidly distant as when first they met, perhaps he might have asked

no questions in regard to a subject which only excited a slight and

passing curiosity; but a change had come over them both.

It was seldom that Algernon Grey felt embarrassment or hesitation in

addressing the brightest or the fairest in the world. From a period,

generally reckoned within the round of boyhood, he had acted for

himself, except in some matters of deep moment; and, in regard to

those, the arrangements which had been made for him by his friends,

had, by fixing his fate, in several of its most important features,

irrevocably placed him beyond the circle of many events most fraught

with emotion for the heart of youth. But yet, there is something very

impressive in great beauty, especially in its first early dawn. With

the mature woman, there are a thousand avenues opened by her own

experience, to approach her fearlessly, if honestly. But the mind of a

very young girl, like the first bud of a rose, is hedged in by thorns,

through which we must force our way. In one of the German editions of

a fairy tale, called the "Sleeping Beauty in the wood," the knight,

who is destined to deliver the lady, has first to cut his path through

the forest before he can even approach the castle in which she lies

slumbering; and he never would have succeeded, had it not been for an

enchanted sword given him by a kind friend. I cannot help thinking,

that in the allegory, the Sleeping Beauty meant the confidence of a

young and inexperienced heart; and the sword which none of the trees

could resist, a high and noble spirit, possessed by one who sought to

approach it. With such a sword Algernon Grey was armed; and, although

he found some difficulty in choosing his path, fortune befriended him

at length. After two vain efforts which produced nothing in reply, but

those common-places, which showed that the lady was accustomed, more

than her years would have induced him to expect, to courts and the

world, he hit upon a happier theme, which obtained a longer answer and

touched deeper feelings. He had spoken of the Electoral court, he had

spoken of the fair Palatinate, he had spoken of the Elector and

Electress. Her replies were courtly, but from the surface. He then

spoke of England, of his own land, of the qualities of the people,

their truthfulness, their energy of character; and she warmed in an

instant. She often longed to see it, she said. She told him that it

was the cherished vision of her lonely moments, the hope of her heart,

the only eager and anxious desire she had; and when he expressed his

surprise that the distant island from which he came, could have

awakened such interest, she asked with a smile:--

"Do you not know that I am an Englishwoman? I have never seen England,

I have never known it; but yet I am an Englishwoman."

"Indeed," he said, instantly changing the language in which they had

been speaking to his own; "of English parents, you mean? I can well

conceive the land of our ancestors possesses a deep interest for any

one born afar, but yet, fair lady, you must be somewhat of an

enthusiast, also, to say that it is the only hope of your heart?"

"Perhaps I am," she answered with a smile, "but yet there is something

more in the thought of England, than the mere clinging of the heart to

the place of a long ancestry. Her very insulated situation seems to

impose upon her children, as a duty, to limit, in a degree, their

wishes and their feelings to the bounds of her sea-washed shores.

There is an interest in her solitary grandeur amongst the waves. Then

too, she has ever been the island-throne from which a long race of

mighty kings has shaken the destinies of all other lands, and ruled or

changed a world. History is full of England. It seems, to my eyes, as

if hers were the pervading spirit of all past chronicles--as if, like

an awful spectre, her image was always present amidst the festivals

and feuds of other states. Calm, grand, and sublime, she treads the

waters of earthly strife; and, while others are contending for petty

trifles amongst themselves, losing one day, winning another, the power

and glory of England marches on, if not unchecked, only the greater

for each temporary reverse. Freedom is her birth-right, home joys and

rural peace her ornaments; arts, arms, and poetry, the coronet on her

brow. Oh! it is a glorious land, indeed, and let them call us proud,

if they will! Thank God! we have something to be proud of."

Her eyes sparkled, her colour rose, her whole face beamed with

animation as she spoke; and Algernon Grey gazed at her with an

admiring smile. Perhaps he might fear that under the monarch then on

the English throne, their country might lose, for a time, that high

position in which her fancy placed it; but, at all events, the few

words then spoken broke down at once all cold barriers of reserve

between them; and from that moment they went on pouring forth the

thoughts of their hearts to each other, as if long years of intimacy

had linked their minds together.

"Whither are all these people wending, that I see depart?" asked

Algernon Grey, at length, as he marked the gradual thinning of the

rooms. "I trust this bright evening is not coming to a close?"

"Oh, no," she answered, "not for hours. They are going to the gardens,

I suppose, or anywhere they like. This is a free and liberal place,

fair sir, where each one does as he thinks fit, and others mind him

not."

"I would fain see these same gardens," said her companion, "if they be

within the bounds of my imprisonment."

"Come, then," she said, "why should we not? These rooms are very warm,

too; and we shall find fresher air without. Through that door, and

then down the stairs, will lead us out by the library-tower, amongst

the flowers and the green trees."

As she spoke, they moved towards the door, to which she pointed; and

they had nearly reached it, when the Baron of Oberntraut crossed their

path, and suddenly paused before them.

"I have lost my bet, sir," he said, in a somewhat sharp tone, "and

will send you the amount to your inn to-morrow."

"Oh, it matters not," answered Algernon Grey; "it was a foolish wager

of mine, and I can hardly call it fairly won; for I suspect, by a

smile I saw on your Prince's lip, that he remembers having seen me in

my own land, though I was but a mere boy then."

"I always pay my debts of all kinds, sir," replied the other; and

then, turning to the lady, he asked her to tread a measure with him,

when the dance began again.

"I cannot, noble sir," she replied coldly; "I have a task assigned me,

which I must perform. You heard the commands I received."

"Commands right willingly obeyed," answered Oberntraut; and, turning

sharply away, he left them.

"He is in an ill humour," said Algernon Grey, as, passing through two

or three rooms nearly deserted, they reached the top of a small

staircase, that led down towards the gardens. "He reasonably enough

made me a bet, that I would not obtain admission here, without

announcing my name or rank. I unreasonably preferred it, and, against

probability, have won."

"He is more wounded," answered Alice, "at his judgment having been

found in fault, than at the loss of the wager, be the amount what it

will. He is a liberal, free-hearted gentleman, whom success, high

birth, and flattery have rendered somewhat vain; but yet, from all I

hear and all I have ever seen, I should judge that at heart there are

few nobler or better men now living."

Algernon Grey mused for a moment; he knew not why, but her words gave

him pain; and they passed out, in silence, into the gardens, then

newly laid out by the famous Salomon de Caux. Nothing that profuse

expense and the taste and science of the day could effect, had been

left undone to render those gardens a miracle of art. Mountains had

been thrown down; valleys had been filled up; streams had been turned

from their course; and terrace above terrace, parterre beyond

parterre, fountains, grottos, statues, arcades, presented a scene

somewhat stiff and formal, indeed, but of a gorgeous and splendid

character; whilst, sweeping round, as if covering them with a green

mantle, came the mountains and forests of the Neckarthal. There were

lamps in many places, but such artificial light was little needed; for

the moon, within a few days of her full, was pouring a flood of

splendour over the scene, which showed even minute objects around. So

bright and beautiful was it, so white was the reflection from leaves

and gravel walks, and the fresh stonework of the garden, that, had not

the warm air told the presence of summer, Algernon Grey might have

fancied that snow had fallen since he entered the castle gates.

Numerous groups of persons were wandering hither and thither; and the

very colours of their clothing could be seen under the beams of the

bright moon. Among the very first of the gay parties, which passed the

young Englishman and his companion, as they walked along the upper

terrace, towards the broad flight of steps that led down into the

lower garden, was his gay friend, William Lovet, walking with the lady

who had been assigned as his guide through the night. Right merry they

both seemed to be; and we may as well follow them for a moment or two,

to show the contrast between Lovet and his fellow-traveller.

"Love and constancy," cried Lovet, with a laugh, just as they passed

Algernon Grey, "two things, dear lady, perfectly incompatible. The

very essence of love is in change; and you know, in your heart, that

you feel it. It is but that you wish to bind all your slaves to you by

chains of iron, while you yourself roam free."

"Chains of brass would suit such an impudent man as you better,"

answered the lady, in the same gay tone; "but I can tell you, I will

have no lovers who will not vow eternal constancy."

"Oh! I will vow," answered Lovet, "as much as you like; I have got a

stock of vows, which, like the fountain of the Nile, is inexhaustible;

and ever goes on swelling in the summer; I'll overflow with vows, if

that be all; I'll adjure, protest, swear, kneel, sigh, weep, and vow

again, as much as any true knight in Christendom. You shall believe me

as constant as the moon, the sea, or the wind, or any other fixed and

steadfast thing--nay, the moon is the best image, after all; for she,

like me, is constant in inconstancy. Still hovering round the planet

of her love, though she changes every hour; and so will I. I will love

you ever dearly, though I vary with each varying day."

"And love a dozen others every day," answered the lady, laughing.

"To be sure," he cried; "mine is a large and capacious heart; no

narrow peasant's crib, which can contain but one. Fie on such penury!

I would not be such a poor pitiful creature, as to have room but for

one fair friend in my bosom, for all the riches of Solomon, that great

king of innumerable wives and wisdom super-excellent. For me, I make

it an open profession; I love the whole sex, especially while they are

young and pretty."

"You are laughing at me and trying to tease me," exclaimed the lady,

piqued and yet pleased; "but you cannot do it, and never shall. You

may think yourself a very conquering person; but I set no value on

love that, like a beggar's garment, has fitted thousands in its day,

and must be patched and ragged."

"Good as new, good as new!" cried Lovet, "without break or flaw. The

trials it has undergone but prove its excellence. Love is of adamant,

polished but not broken by use. But you dare me, dear lady--you defy

me, methinks. Now that is a bold and courageous act; and we will see

the result. No fortress so strong but it has some weak point, and the

castle that fires off its ordnance at the first sight of an enemy, is

generally very much afraid of being taken by surprise. The little

traitor is busy at your heart, even now, whispering that there is

danger; for he knows right well that the best means of reducing a

place, is to spread a panic in the garrison."

In the mean while, the very name of love had only been mentioned once,

between Agnes and Algernon. Their minds were busied, especially at

first, with aught else on earth. He certainly thought her very

beautiful; more beautiful, perhaps, than any one he had ever seen; but

it was rather as an impression than a matter of reflection. He felt

it, he could not but feel it; yet he did not pause upon the idea. For

her part, neither did she think of his personal appearance. His

countenance was one that pleased her; it seemed expressive of a noble

heart and a fine intellect; she would have known him out of all the

world, if she had met him years afterwards and had only seen him then

but once. Yet, had she been asked to describe his person, she could

not have told one feature of his face. When they reached the bottom of

the flight of steps, they paused and looked up to the castle, as it

stood upon its rock above, with the enormous masses and towers

standing out dark and irregular in the moonlight sky; while the hills

swept in grand variety around, and the valley opened out beyond,

showing the plain of the Rhine flooded with moonlight.

"This is, indeed, magnificent and beautiful," said Algernon Grey. "I

have seen many lands, and, certainly, never did I think to behold in

this remote and untravelled part, a scene which eclipses all that I

ever beheld before."

"It is very beautiful," answered Agnes; "and although I have been a

tenant of that castle now many a year, I find that the fair land in

which it lies, like the society of the good and bright, only gains by

long acquaintance. To me, however, it has charms it cannot have to

you. There dwell those I have loved best through life, there all who

have been kind to me in childhood: the protectors of my infancy, the

friends of my youth. It has more to me than the scene and its

beauties; and when I gaze at the castle, or let my eye run along the

valley, I see through the whole the happy home, the pleasant place of

repose. Faces of friends look out at me from every window and every

glade, and loved voices sound on every breeze. They are not many; but

they are sweet to my heart."

"And I, too," answered Algernon Grey, "though I can see none of these

things that you can see, behold much more than the mere lines and

tints. As I entered the court but an hour or two ago, and looked up at

the various piles that crowded round, some in the freshness of a

holiday youth in his best clothes sent home from school, some in the

russet livery of age, and some almost crumbling to their earth again,

I could not but picture to myself the many scenes which those walls

have beheld; the loves, the hopes, the pleasures, the griefs, the

disappointment, the despair, the troublous passions, the calm

domestic joys--even the pleasant moments of dreamy idleness, and the

phantasm-forming hours of twilight--all that the past has seen upon

this spot seemed to rise before me in tangible forms, and sweep across

in long procession with smiles and tears alternate on their cheeks;

and all the while the musicians under the stone canopy, appeared in

their gay and spirit stirring tones to read a curious comment on the

whole."

"What might their comment be?" asked the lady, gazing up in his face

with a look of interest.

"They seemed to say," he answered, "Joy thou too, young heart! All is

transient, all are shadows. Taste thy morning in its prime. Be thy

noontide firm and strong, strew thine evening path with flowers,

embrace the right, eschew the wrong, and fear not when the coming

hours shall gather thee to join that train which sweeps along."

"Why, it is verse!" cried Agnes, smiling.

"Not quite," he answered, "but so fancy made their sounds, words; and

the cadence of the music added a sort of measure."

"'Twas sweet counsel and good of that kind dame, Imagination,"

rejoined the fair girl, "and yet, though the command was to be gay,

your words, fair sir, are somewhat sad."

"Let us be gay then," he replied.

"With all my heart," she cried: "but what shall we be gay about?"

"Nay, if we have to search for a theme, better be as we are," answered

the young Englishman, "nature is ever best; the mood of the moment is

the only one that is worth having, because it is the only one that is

true. It will change when it is time. But you are by nature gay, is it

not so?"

"Oh, yes!" she answered, "I am gay as a free bird. Nay, good Dr.

Scultetus, the court chaplain, would persuade me often I am light--but

methinks not that; for I have felt many things long and deeply."

"And amongst them, love?" asked her companion.

"Oh, yes!" replied she, in a frank yet playful tone, "I have loved

deeply and truly."

Algernon Grey was silent for a moment. He would have given much to

have asked, "Whom?" but he did not venture, and the next instant the

beautiful girl went on in a tone that reproved him for the question he

had put.

"I have loved my parents," she said, "deeply and well--though one of

them I cannot remember--I have loved my friends--I do love my

princess."

"It was not of such love I spoke," he answered, gazing down at her

earnestly.

"Then, I know no other," she replied, "do you?"

"Oh, yes, many," he said, laughing; "there is a warmer, a more

sparkling, I might almost call it, a fiercer kind of love, which every

man, who has mingled a good deal in the world, must have seen in its

effects, if he have not experienced it in his person.--But I am not in

a confessional," continued he; "and so I shall say no more."

"And yet you would put me in one," she answered gaily; "but certainly

when I go there, I will have a more reverend father-confessor; for

methinks, you are given to asking questions, which I may not be

inclined to answer."

Her companion paused in meditation during a moment or two; for her

words raised a certain degree of doubt in his mind, as to whether she

belonged to the Protestant or to the Catholic party, who, at the time

I write of, lived together in the various towns of Germany, rather

enduring than tolerating each other. It seemed a night of frankness,

however, when questions might be easily asked, which would be

impertinent at a graver and more reserved moment; and he demanded, at

length, in a light tone: "Pray, tell me, before I say more, are you

one of those who condemn all Protestants to fire and faggot here and

in the other world, or of those who think the power of the Pope an

intolerable burden and the doctrines of that church heretical?"

"Oh, I understand you," she said, after a moment's thought; "you would

ask of what religion I am, and laugh a little at both, to put your

question in a form not uncivil to either. But if you needs must know,

I will tell you thus much--I was born a Protestant."

"_Born_ a protestant!" Algernon Grey exclaimed; "that seems to me a

new way of becoming one."

"Nay, I don't know," she answered; "I believe it is the way one-half

the world receive their religion, whatever it may be."

"Right," he said, "right! You are right, and I was wrong--not only

their religion, but half their views. You were born a Protestant, and

so was I; but I must say, happy are those whose reason, when it

becomes mature, confirms the principles they have received in their

youth. So it has been with me; and, I trust, with you also."

"Nay, I do not know that my reason is mature," replied the lady, with

a smile: "but everything I have thought and read leads me to think

that I cannot be wrong. It seems to me that the religion, which was

taught to fishermen by its Divine author, to be preached to all the

world, may be well read, and studied unadorned, by the descendants of

the world that then existed: it seems, to me, that if priests married

they were as likely to be as good priests, and better men; it seems to

me, that when our religion teaches to confess our faults one to

another, there was no thought of setting apart a particular order of

men to be the registrars of all our wickedness, but rather to correct

that stubborn pride which hardens us in evil, by inducing us to deny

our guilt. Moreover, I think that the habit of bowing down before

pieces of stone and wood, of praying to sinners like ourselves when

they are dead, and of kissing solemnly a piece of ivory on a cross, is

something very like idolatry.--But I know little of all these things.

I read the Bible, and am convinced myself; and yet I cannot make up my

mind to think that good men, with faith in a Saviour, will perish

eternally because they judge differently. Now you have won from me an

account of my faith; but pray do not tell any one; for half our clergy

would think I was part papist, and the other half part fool."

"You have thought of these things deeply, at all events," replied

Algernon Grey, "and that is something, where so few think at all."

"Oh, one cannot help thinking of these things here, where one hears

little else from morning till night; but I have thought of them, too,

for other reasons," she said more gravely. "One has need of

consolations in this world, at times. There is but one true source

from which they flow; and before we drink at that source, it is

needful to ascertain if the stream be pure. Still we are very grave,"

she continued: "Heaven help us! if they did but know in yon gay

saloons of what we two here are talking in the gardens, they would

open their eyes with wonder, and perhaps their lips with laughter."

"Well, then, we will change our tone," continued Algernon Grey; "come,

let us range along those higher terraces, where I see a long line of

arches, tall, and slim, and one beyond another, like the fragment of a

Roman aqueduct striding across the valley."

"Gladly," she answered; "the air will be cooler there, for it is

higher; and we shall have it all to ourselves; for the gay world of

the court will linger down here till the trumpets sound to supper. I

love the high free air and solitude. One draws a finer breath upon the

mountains, and I often wish I were an eagle to soar above their jagged

tops and drink the breath of heaven itself. But here comes your gay

companion, and the fair lady of Laussitz."

"Who may she be?" inquired the young Englishman.

"A very pretty lady, somewhat gay," replied his companion; "but you

must forgive me, my good captive, if I tell you nought of the ladies

of this court. In truth, I know very little; for I hear much that I do

not believe, much that I cannot be sure of; and, though I see

sometimes what I would not see, yet I would fain judge all charitably,

and put no harsh construction on other people's acts."

As she spoke Lovet and the fair countess passed at some little

distance; and certainly, to all appearance, he had made some progress

to intimacy in a marvellous short space of time. She might be

fatigued, it is true--it might be but an idle habit she had gained;

but still, the arm that was passed through his let the fair hand drop

till it met her left hand, which she had raised, and the round but

taper fingers of either were intertwined together. The head, slightly

inclined over the left shoulder, drooped somewhat forward, as if the

eyes were cast upon the ground, while the ear was raised to catch

his words. There was a languor in her figure and in her air, an

ill-assured step, a certain feebleness, as if some powers of mind or

body were failing. It was his voice spoke as they passed. "Nay,

nonsense," he said; "these are all idle nothings, bugbears set up to

make the grown children of the world good boys. Come, fair one, come;

do not assume a pettish anger that you do not feel. Love was made for

such a heart as yours, and such an hour for love," and, bending down

his head, he added somewhat more.

"How dare you," said the lady in a low voice, "on my life, you are too

bold; I will leave you, I will, indeed."

But she did not leave him; and, for more than an hour afterwards, they

might be seen wandering about those gardens, arm in arm, affecting

solitary places.

It is strange how often good and evil take nearly the same forms--how

that which is bright and pure seeks the same scenes with all that is

most opposite, but finds a different treasure there; as the bee will

draw honey from the aconite, whence others will extract the deadly

poison. In the bland innocence of her heart, the bright being by

Algernon Grey's side led him on to the most lonely parts of the

garden, wandered with him where there was no eye to watch them; and,

mounting one high flight of steps after another, passed along the

whole extent of that grand terrace, raised upon its stupendous arches,

the encumbered remains of which may still be seen overhanging the

valley of the Neckar. But there, at the verge, they paused, gazing

forth on the moonlight scene around; marking the manifold gradations

of the shadow and the light, as mass after mass of wood and castle,

mountain and rock, city and plain, faded off into one gentle hue of

grey mingled with gold. A thousand were the images called up in the

minds of each, by the objects that their eyes beheld; a thousand were

the associations and the allusions to which they gave birth. Wide and

erratic as is ever the course of fancy, soaring into the heights of

the highest heaven, and plunging into the deepest depths below, never,

perhaps, had her wing seemed more untiring, more wild and eccentric,

than with those two young hearts on that eventful night--eventful in

every way to themselves, to those around them, to Europe, to the

world, to the march of society, to the enlightenment of the human

mind, to the eternal destinies of all man's race.

To what fundamental changes, in everything that affects man's best

interests, did not that nineteenth of August give rise!

The destiny that hung above them, without their knowing it, seemed to

have some mysterious influence upon the minds and characters of both.

The barrier of cold formality was broken down between them; each

poured forth the thoughts of the bosom as to an old familiar friend.

Agnes felt herself irresistibly impelled--carried away, she knew not

how or why--to speak to her companion as she had never spoken to man

before. She fancied it was, that she had, for the first time, found a

spirit congenial to her own; and certain it is, that there is a magic

in the first touch of sympathy, which awakens Bleeping powers in the

heart, develops undiscovered stores of thought and feeling, and brings

to light the bright things of the soul. But surely there was something

more in it than this. Upon that hour, upon that moment hung the

destinies of each; though neither had one thought that such could be

the case, though of all things it seemed the most improbable, though

he was a wandering stranger, purposing but to stop a few days in the

place; and she seemed fixed down to it and its associations for life.

Yet so it was; and had aught been different between them; had she

remained in the mere timidity of the young girl, or in the cold

courtesy of new acquaintance; had he maintained the usual proud and

lofty air which he assumed in general with women, how different would

have been their late through life! The varied scenes through which

they were to pass, the distant lands which they were destined to

visit, would never have beheld them together; and that night would

have been but a pleasant dream, to be recollected amidst the dull

realities of life.

It was otherwise, however. She was so young, so gentle, so bright, so

beautiful, that her society acted as a charm, waking him from a sort

of dull and heavy torpor which had been cast over his heart by an

event that had taken place in his boyhood--a counter-spell, which

dissipated one that had chained up the current of his youthful blood

in cold and icy bonds. He gave way to all he felt, to all the pleasure

of the moment. Their conversation freed itself from all ceremonious

shackles; both seemed to feel that they could trust fully in each

other, and spoke, as feeling dictated, with no reserve and no

misunderstanding. The flight of thought became gayer, too, naturally

and easily; and as Agnes gave way to the high and buoyant spirit of

youth, her young fancies soared and twinkled, like the wings of a lark

in the sunshine; while Algernon Grey, with a firmer and more steady

flight, seemed like a spirit beside her spirit, guiding her on, higher

and higher, into the world of space open to the human mind.

Suddenly, as they thus rambled on together, through the remote parts

of the gardens, they heard the sounds of distant trumpets, blowing

clear and loud; and Agnes, with a start, turned to her companion,

saying: "That is the call to supper. Our evening is coming to an end;

do not think me too strange and free, if I say that I am sorry for

it."

"Nay," answered he, "why should I think you so, when I, with far more

cause, feel the same most deeply. We may, perhaps, never meet again,

fair lady; but I shall always remember this night as one undimmed in

its brightness, without a spot to chequer it, without a shade, or a

regret. I do think you free and at ease; more so, perhaps, than I

expected: more so than many would have been, older in the world's ways

than yourself--but not too free; and I can well conceive that the long

sojourn in a court like this has removed all cold restraint from your

manner."

"Oh, no," she said, "it is not that! I never mingle with the court

when I can help it. The ease I have shown to-night has depended,

partly on myself, partly on you."

"Let me hear more," he answered; "I do not clearly understand you."

"Well, then," she said, "I am habitually free and at ease; because I

am sure of myself--because I feel that I never mean wrong; and do not

know that I have any thoughts I could wish to conceal. Let those who

doubt themselves fear to show their heart as it is; thanks to wise

friends and careful guidance, mine has no part that may not be open.

Then, as to your share: you have treated me in a manner different from

that which most men would assume to most women. I could scarcely lay

my finger upon one of all that court, who, sent with me, like you,

throughout this night, would not have tried to please my ear with

tales of love and praises of my beauty, long, stupid, and

insignificant as a cricket on the hearth. Had you done so, my manner

might have been very different."

Her companion did not reply for a moment or two; but then said, with a

smile: "It seems to me that there must be something both vain and

insulting in supposing that a woman will willingly listen to tales of

love from a man who has known her but a few hours--he must think her

very light and himself very captivating."

"We poor women," she answered, "are bound to gratitude towards your

sex, even for forbearance; and therefore, it is, I thank you for not

having held me so lightly."

"I am far more than repaid," he rejoined, as she guided him down the

steps into the lower garden, saying that they must hasten on, and that

was the shortest way.

Passing round under the high banks formed by the casting down of a

great part of the hill, called the Friesenberg, they had crossed one

half of the gardens and were walking on at a spot where the shadow of

one of the great towers fell deep upon the green turf, when suddenly a

tall figure seemed to rise out of the earth close beside them, passed

them, and disappeared. For an instant the lady clung to her

companion's arm as if in terror; but then, the moment after, she

laughed gaily, saying: "This place has so many superstitious legends

attached to it that they cling to one's fancy whether one will or not.

If I ever see you again, I will tell you one about this very spot; but

we have not time now; for in ten minutes after that trumpet-sound, the

Elector will be at table."

We will not go on to visit the banquet that followed, to contemplate

its splendour, or criticise the ceremonies there observed. It were an

easy matter to describe it, for we have many a dull relation of many a

gay feast of the time; but, in this work, I have not in view to paint

the mere customs and manners of the age, except incidentally, but

rather to show man's heart and feelings undisguised, and exhibit their

true proportions, stripped of a gaudy but disfiguring robe of

ceremony.

CHAPTER IV.

How often an aching head or an aching heart is the follower of a gay

night like that of the nineteenth of August, those who have much

mingled with, or much watched, the world well know. In the commerce of

life we are too apt to reverse the usual course of all reasonable

traffic, and purchase with short present pleasure a vast amount of

future grief and care. The bargain is a bad one, but made every day;

and even at the table, in the ball-room, and in many another scene,

this same losing trade is going on, with the bitter day of reckoning

on the morrow.

How is it with Algernon Grey, as he sits there in the large gloomy

chamber, with his head leaning on his hand, his eyes gazing vacantly

forth through the narrow window? The servants come and go; and he

notices them not. The table is laid for breakfast, but the meal

remains untasted. Busy sounds rise up from without and float through

the half open casement; the gay and cheering laugh, the light song,

the chattered conversation, the cry of the vender of early grapes, the

grating noise of wheels, or that of horses' feet, and through the

whole a lively hum, indistinct but merry to the ear. Nevertheless, he

hears not a sound, buried in the deep thoughts of his own heart.

Is it that the brow is aching? or that languor and feverish heat reign

in those strong and graceful limbs? Oh, no. The whole frame is free

from pain; fresh, vigorous, and fit for instant action. Is there any

word, spoken the night before, any deed done, that he would recall,

yet cannot? Not so. He has nought to reproach himself with; conscience

has no accusing voice.

What is it then? He communes with his own heart; and a dark

overshadowing cloud comes between him and the sun of happiness. It is

a shadow from the past; but it extends over all the present, and far

and vague into the future.

The first thing that roused him, was the entrance of his gay friend,

William Lovet, who came to share the meal with him. Nevertheless,

Algernon did not perceive his approach, till he was close to him, and

laid his hand upon his shoulder, saying:--

"Heaven and earth, Algernon! what has made thee so moody, man? There

must be something in the air of this foul city, that--with such a

bright vision as that of last night to gladden your way--one stain of

care should be found upon your brow."

His friend roused himself instantly, and answered gaily, though not

without an effort: "I must think sometimes, William; it is a part of

my nature. One little drop of thought fell into my clay when it was

kneading. Thank your stars that none such entered into your

composition.--But let us to breakfast, my appetite tells me that the

hour has somewhat passed."

"Appetite," cried Lovet, taking his seat; "tell not the bright-eyed

Agnes of your having so coarse and vulgar a thing. She will think your

love forsworn and all your fidelity false and fickle, if you do more

than eat one slice out of that partridge breast, or drink aught but

sour Rhenish throughout the day. But seriously, and upon my life, with

solemn earnestness, I do declare, never was such a glorious chance as

has fallen to the lot of each of us. Had we culled the whole court, I

fancy, we could have found nought more charming; and we must stay here

at least a month, to profit by Dame Fortune's favours."

"A very sweet companion I had," answered Algernon Grey, coldly; "but

no vows did I make, no fidelity did I swear, my good friend."

"Heaven and earth!" cried Lovet, "did one ever hear of such a thing as

a man travelling with another upon equal terms, and yet leaving him

all the hard work to do? Swear! why I swore till my joints ached and

my teeth were sadly damaged; and as to vows, two Dutch barks, broad in

the bow, broad in the stern, and deep enough in the hold to hide ten

Dutchmen upon an elephant, would not hold one-half of the cargo that I

landed safely at yon lady's feet last night. Let me see, what is her

name? I have it somewhere, written from her own sweet lips--Countess

of Laussitz!--Matilda, too, by the mark! A good name, a marvellous

good name, is it not, Algernon? Musical, pretty, soft, soothing,

loveable. But never go anywhere without tablets! See what service mine

have been to me! Many a fair prospect is spoiled by a mistake in the

name. Call Matilda Joan, or Louisa Deborah, and you are ruined for

ever;--Matilda, Countess of Laussitz! Charming! Sweet! Bless her soft

eyes and her sweet lips; they are worth the best diamond in the

Mogul's turban. And so you positively did not swear fidelity, nor vow

vows? The lady must have thought you marvellously stupid."

While he had been speaking he had not failed to do justice to the good

things on the table. Nor had Algernon Grey shown any lack of appetite,

applying himself more stoutly to eat his breakfast than to answer his

companion's light raillery. At length, however, he replied: "She did

not seem to think so; or, perhaps, she was too courteous to express

it; but, at all events, my evening spent with her was a very pleasant

one, though neither love, nor vows, nor sighing, had any share

therein."

"And yet, methinks, you went into very sighing places," answered

Lovet, laughing; "you affected the groves and solitary terraces, as

well as others, whom you wot of; and then linked arm in arm, with eyes

cast down and sweet low voices, if something warmer than a prologue to

a mystery, or a descant on the moon, did not enter into your gentle

communion, methinks you must have been worse than Hecla; for, though

it be all ice, they say, yet there is fire at the heart; and that

girl's eyes and lips were enough to set any one's blood in a flame,

even if it were naturally cold as a toad's. Come, come, Algernon, no

such reserve between us; let us speak freely of our loves, and we may

help each other."

"On my life! William, I have none to speak of," answered his

companion, warmly. "You may make love to whom you like, for you are

free; but with me it is very different."

"Nonsense," exclaimed the other; "the circumstances are the same in

both cases, only the position is reversed. If I am free, she is

married; did you not see her husband there?--a fat, white-faced man,

not so high as a musquetoon. But what is that to me? The love of a

month does not trouble itself about matrimony; and my great

grandmother's starched ruff is, of all things, the emblem that I hate;

for she dared not even kiss her daughter for fear of its crumpling.

Why should you heed, either? A little pardonable polygamy is an

excellent good receipt for keeping the taste fresh by constant

variety. Heaven help me! if all my wives were counted throughout the

cities of civilized Europe, I fear I should have to transfer me to

Turkey, and lodge next door to the Sublime Porte."

Algernon Grey smiled, whether he would or not, at his friend's account

of himself, but still he answered seriously: "The case is this,

William; whatever I may judge I have a right to do myself; there is

one thing, I am sure, I have no right to do, which is, to make a

young, gay, happy heart, unhappy, sad, and old,--ay, I say _old_; for

the touch of disappointed love is as withering as the hand of Time.

No, no, I have no right to do that!"

"Good faith! you are most scrupulously wrong, my noble cousin,"

answered Lovet, "and do injustice both to yourself and others. Man,

and woman too, were born for pleasure; changing, varying, at each step

we take. It is a sort of duty in my eyes to give every human being

brought in contact with me whatever joy I can afford them; and I

should as much think of refusing a poor fellow a good dinner, for fear

he should not have one to-morrow, as fail to make love to a pretty

lady who expects it; because I cannot go on loving her all my life.

Every woman has a pleasure in being made love to, and I say, Out upon

the niggard who will not give her a share of it when he has the

opportunity. Every man to his own whim, however; for, after all, these

are nought but whims, or the effects of a most pragmatical education.

But follow your own course, follow your own course, and go on picking

the bare bone of a very musty morality, fancying it all the while

venison and capon. Perhaps, after all, you are nought but a true and

devoted knight and lover; and the thought of the rare beauty you left

four or five years ago in England, like a certain composition of salt

and nitre in a pickling-pan, may be preserving you, uncorrupted as a

neat's tongue, sound and safe, but somewhat hard and shrivelled

withal. Well, she is a glorious creature, it must be confessed; and I,

being your cousin and hers too, may venture to confess, without

suspicion of flattery, that rarely have I seen beauty equal to hers.

The bud has burst into the rose since you left it, and though there

may be a thorn or two, the flower is well worth gathering."

Algernon Grey mused and answered in a thoughtful tone, as if arguing

with himself. "Taste is a strange thing," he said, "marvellously

strange! Who can give reason for his likings and dislikings?--and yet

there must be some course of reasoning below them all. Or is it

instinct, William, that teaches us instantly to appreciate and seek

that which is suitable to ourselves? There are several kinds of

beauty--"

"True, noble cousin," answered Lovet, in a bantering tone.

"Ay, but two very distinct classes into which all minor differences

perhaps may be arranged," his friend continued.

"Perhaps so," rejoined the other; "let us hear more of the two ranks."

"Why there is first," replied Algernon Grey, "that sort of beauty

which dazzles and surprises--brilliant and commanding, I think men

call it--the bold firm eye, the Juno frown, the look of fiery passion,

sparkling as a diamond but as hard, bright as a sword but oftentimes

as ready to wound. With me it alarms rather than attracts, rouses to

resistance instead of subduing."

"Go on," said Lovet, in a quiet but meaning tone, "I understand."

"Then there is the other sort," his friend continued, "that which wins

rather than triumphs; the gentle, the gay, more than the keen and

bright; yielding to, rather than demanding love; the trusting, the

confiding look, instead of the ruling and commanding; the lip where

smiles seem to find their native home; the soft half-shaded eye full

of veiled light, speaking at times the sportiveness of innocent

thought, under which may lie, concealed against the time of need,

higher and stronger powers of heart and mind."

Lovet had become graver as his companion went on; and when he ended,

replied with some warmth, "Ay, indeed, such beauty as that might well

win love for life, and he would be a fool who found it and let any

idle obstacle prevent his purchase of so rare a jewel; but it is a

dream of your fancy, Algernon. Imagination has laid on those delicate

colours, and you will never see the original of the portrait. Each man

has in his own heart his own image of perfection, always sought for

but rarely found. If once he meets it, let him beware how it escapes

him. He will never see its like again. I am no enthusiast, as you well

know--I have seen too much of life; but here--all levity as you think

me--did I find once the creature that fancy early drew as the

companion of my days, and had hope of winning her love, I tell you,

Algernon, there is not that consideration on the earth I would not

cast behind me for the great joy of making her mine for ever: no, not

one--rank, station, wealth, the world's esteem, all cold and formal

dogmas, devised by knaves and listened to by fools. I would bend all

to that. My own habitual lightness, the sneer and jest of gay

companions, the censure of the grave and reverend, the fear of outcry

and invective, and all the idle babble of the world, would weigh but

as a feather in the balance against the lifelong dream of happiness

which such an union would call up."

When he had spoken--and he did so with fire and eagerness altogether

unlike himself--he leaned his head upon his hand, and fell apparently

into profound thought for several minutes. Algernon Grey, too, mused,

and his meditation lasted longer than his companion's, for he was

still in a deep reverie when Lovet started up, exclaiming, "But it is

all in vain!--Come, Algernon, let us not think--it is the most

irrational waste of time that can be devised. We are but Fate's

monkeys. She keeps us here in this cage of earth and throws us what

crumbs she will. Happy is he who catches them quickest. What are you

for today? I am for the castle to worship at my little shrine, unless

I hear from my saint to the contrary before the clock strikes eleven."

"Some time in the day I must go up, too," replied his friend; "in

courtesy, we must both do so to show our thankfulness for our kind

reception; but before I go, I must away into the town to seek out

worthy Dr. Henry Alting, this renowned professor, to whom my uncle,

his old friend, sent me a letter by your hands."

"Then, you may as well publish your name at the market-cross if there

be one," answered Lovet; "it will be given out from the chair of

philosophy this morning, and over the whole town ere noon."

"No, no," replied the other, with a smile, "my uncle humours my

whim--he is Astrea struck and loves all wild exploits. In his letter,

I am but called his young kinsman, Master Algernon Grey, and the good

doctor will be ignorant of all the rest."

"Well, well, I care not," answered Lovet; "it is no affair of mine. I

transformed myself into William Lovet to please you, and though,

certainly, the plan has its conveniences for every one but the staid

and most line-and-rule gentleman who devised it, yet I am ready to

appear in my own feathers to-morrow should need be."

"Perhaps, thinking you will appear to more advantage, Will," replied

Algernon Grey, with an effort to be gay; "however, there is no fear.

Our borrowed plumage will last as long as we may want it, if we take

care not to soil our own feathers underneath."

"Now, corpo di Baccho!" cried Lovet, "I admire you again. That last

morality in metaphor was worthy of a saint in orange tawny velvet, or

my fair cousin, Algernon. I have hopes of you, whenever you begin to

deal in tropes and figures. At least, you are not dull then, which is

something. That glorious trio, wit, wisdom, and wantonness can then

claim some share in you, and there is a chance of the man who has

thrown away his youth and his youth's powers in cold asceticism,

trying to warm his age with the fire of profligacy. It is a common

case and will be yours, Algernon, for the man who commits not youthful

follies, is sure in the end to take up with reverend vices.--But do

you agree to my plan; a month here,--but one poor month; and if I win

not my fair lady in that time, I shall be right ready to slink away

like a cur that has been kicked out for attempting to steal a

marrow-bone. You can attend lectures in the mean time, and learn from

the skull-cap of old bald-headed Scultetus, to carry yourself evenly

on slippery places."

"Well, stay what time you like," replied Algernon Grey. "If I find

cause, I can go on a stage or two and wait for you. At present, I will

forth to find out this renowned professor. Should you be gone ere my

return, leave tidings of your doings for my guidance."

Thus saying, he left him, and as he went, William Lovet gazed after

him till the door was shut. Then a somewhat bitter smile curled his

lip, and after a moment's thought, he muttered, "Limed! limed! or I am

much mistaken.--Ay, ay, I know the sort of beauty that you have so

tenderly described.--A month! Stay but a month, and if I judge her

right, and know man's heart, you are plunged in beyond recall."

CHAPTER V.

Preceded by a Knecht, as he was called, of the inn, in a close-fitting

jacket, wide brown breeches, and blue stockings, Algernon Grey walked

through the narrow and tortuous streets of Heidelberg towards the

residence of a man then renowned for his wit and wisdom, though we

know not at the present day upon what this fame was founded. Although

it was the custom in those times for gay gallants to ruffle through

the streets with a long train of servants, badged, liveried, and

armed, no one accompanied the young Englishman, except the man to show

him the way. At that hour of the morning--it was now near eleven--few

persons were to be seen abroad; for the student was busy at his book,

the shopkeeper labouring in his vocation. Those who did appear, were

all in their particular costume, distinctive of class and station. You

could have laid your finger upon any man in the whole town and named

at once his occupation from his dress. Nor was this custom, which

assigned peculiar garments to each peculiar class, without many great

advantages, besides the mere picturesque effect. But it is in vain to

regret that these things have passed away; they were parts of the

spirit of that age, an age fond of distinctions; and now in the fusion

of all classes, which has taken place, where no distinctions are

suffered to remain but that of wealth, the keeping up of peculiar

costumes would be an idle shadow of a thing no longer existing.

Amidst close rows of tall houses--the narrow windows of which

displayed no costly wares--and, here and there, through the rows of

booths erected before the doors, in which the tradesmen were then

accustomed to display their goods for sale, Algernon Grey walked on

for about five minutes, from time to time asking a question of his

guide, who never replied without humbly doffing his little cap, and

adding, "Honourable sir," or "Noble gentleman," to every sentence. It

was another trait of the times and the country.

At length the man stopped at the open door of a tall dull looking

house, and informed his companion, that he would find Dr. Alting on

the second floor; and mounting the long, cold, broad steps of stone,

Algernon Grey found his way up to the rooms of him he sought. A fresh,

sturdy, starched servant wench, who instantly caught his foreign

accent, and thereupon made up her mind not to understand a word he

said, was at length brought to introduce him to the presence of her

master; and following her along a narrow passage, the young Englishman

was ushered into a room, such as the general appearance of the house

had given little reason to expect. It was wide, handsome, overhung by

a fine carved oak ceiling, and furnished all round with large

bookcases, richly carved, containing the treasured collection of a

long life in every shape and form, from the enormous folio to the most

minute duodecimo.

At a heavy oaken table, near one of the windows, sat two gentlemen, of

different age and appearance. One was a man with white hair and beard,

whose sixtieth summer would never come again. He was dressed in a long

loose gown of some black stuff; and, on his head, which probably was

bald, he wore a small crushed velvet cap. His face was fine and

intelligent; and, from beneath the thick, overhanging eyebrow shone

out a clear and sparkling eye.

The other was habited in a coat of buff leather, not very new, but

laced with gold. His cloak was a plain, brown broad-cloth, a good deal

fresher than his coat; and on his legs he wore a pair of those large

funnel-shaped boots, which seemed intended to catch all the rain or

dust that might fall or fly. His heavy rapier lay along his thigh; but

beyond this he was unarmed; and his hat with its single feather rested

beside him. In age he might be about fifty. His strong black hair and

pointed beard were somewhat grizzled; but there was no sign of decay

in form or feature. His teeth were fine and beautifully white; his

face rough with exposure, but not wrinkled; his frame was strong,

tall, and powerful; and the bold contour of the swelling muscles could

be seen through the tight sleeve of his coat. His face was a very

pleasant one, grave but not stern, thoughtful but not sad; and, as he

turned sharply round in his chair at the opening of the door, a faint

recollection of his features, as if he had seen them before, or some

very like them, came across the young Englishman's mind.

With his usual calm self-possession, Algernon Grey advanced straight

towards the seat of the gentleman in black, and, with a few words of

introduction, presented a letter. Dr. Alting rose to receive him, and,

for a single instant, fixed his keen grey eyes upon his visitor's face

with a look the most intent and searching. The glance was withdrawn

almost as soon as given; and then, courteously putting forward a seat

he opened the letter and read. The moment after he took Algernon's

hand and shook it heartily, exclaiming, "So, sir, you are a kinsman of

this good lord, my old and much respected friend. Ever to see him

again is beyond my hopes; but it is something to have before me one of

his race. What, if I may ask, brings you to Heidelberg? If you come in

search of learning, here you can find it amongst my reverend brethren

of the University. If in search of gaiety and pleasure, surely, above

there, in the castle, you will have your heart's content; for a more

merry body of light young hearts were seldom ever collected--good

faith," he continued, turning to the gentleman who had been sitting

with him when Algernon entered, "they kept their revel up full long

last night. As I sat here at my studies--it must have been past

midnight--the music came down upon me in gusts, almost making even my

old sober limbs tingle to go and join the merry dance, as I did in

boyhood. It must have been a splendid scene."

"This gentleman was there," replied the other; "I saw him for an

instant; but I stayed not long; for that music has another effect on

me, my good old friend; and I betook me to my tower again, more in the

spirit of the gloomy anchorite than yourself, it seems."

"I passed the night there and part of the morning, too, I fear," said

Algernon Grey; "for it was two before we reached our inn."

"I trust you had a happy night of it, then," answered Dr. Alting;

"such scenes are the property of youth; and it would be hard to deny

to the young heart all the brief pleasures of which life has so few."

"A far happier night," answered Algernon Grey, "than many of those

have been which I have spent in more powerful courts and scenes as

gay. There happened to me that which, in the chances of the world,

rarely occurs, to have a companion for the night whose thoughts and

feelings were wholly congenial to my own, a lady whose beauty,

dazzling as it is, would have fallen upon my cold heart only like a

ray of wintry sunshine on a frozen world, had it not been that, unlike

every one I ever saw, a high pure spirit and a rich bright fancy left

her beauty itself forgotten in their own transcendent lustre."

"You are an enthusiast, my young friend," said Dr. Alting, while the

stranger fixed his eves on Algernon Grey, with a gay smile; "what

might be the name of this paragon?"

"The princess called her Agnes," answered the young Englishman; "and

more I did not enquire."

A merry glance passed between the good professor and his companion;

and the latter exclaimed, "You did not enquire! That seems strange,

when you were so captivated."

"There is the mistake," said Algernon Grey, laughing; "I was not

captivated; I admired, esteemed, approved, but that is all. Most

likely she and I will never meet again; for I shall wander for a year,

and then return to duties in my own land; and the name of Agnes is all

I want, by which to remember a happy night of the very few I have ever

known, and a being full of grace and goodness, whom I shall see no

more."

"A strange philosophy," cried Dr. Alting; "especially for so young a

man."

"And so you wander for a year," said the stranger; "if it be not a

rash question, as it seems you are not seeking adventures in love, is

it high deeds of arms you are in search of, like the ancient knights?"

"Not so, either," answered Algernon Grey; "although I am willing

enough, should the occasion present itself, to serve under any

honourable flag, where my religion is not an obstacle, as I have done

more than once before."

"Ah!" said Dr. Alting, "then you are one of those--those very few, who

will suffer their religion to be an obstacle to any of their plans."

"Assuredly," answered Algernon Grey. "The strife at present throughout

the whole of Europe is, and must be ever more or less for the

maintenance of the pure and unperverted religion of the Gospel against

the barbarous superstitions and corruptions of the Romish church; and,

whatever may be the pretext of war, whoever draws the sword in a

papist army----"

"Is fighting for the Woman of Babylon," cried Dr. Alting, eagerly; "is

setting himself up against the Cross of Christ, is advancing the

banner of the Dragon, destined sooner or later to be thrown into the

pit of the nethermost hell;" and, taking the young Englishman's hand,

he shook it heartily, exclaiming: "I am glad to hear such sentiments

from the kinsman of my noble friend."

"He entertains them as firmly as yourself, you well know," answered

Algernon Grey; "they are common to all his family; and, for my part,

humble as I am, I shall always be ready to draw the sword in the

defence of right, whenever the opportunity is afforded me."

"It is coming, my dear sir, the time is coming," cried the old man.

"Great events are before us; and I see for the first time the prospect

of the true faith becoming predominant in this land of Germany;

thence, I trust, to spread its holy and beneficial influence

throughout the world. You have heard, doubtless you have heard, that

in the very heart of this great empire, the people of Bohemia have

raised the standard of freedom of conscience. Even now they are in

deliberation to choose them a new king, in place of the papist tyrant,

who has violated all the solemn pledges, by virtue of which alone he

held the crown. If their choice be a wise and good one, if it be such

as I believe it will be, if the head of the Protestant Union,--in a

word--if the Elector Palatine be chosen King of Bohemia, doubtless the

spirit of the true faith will, from that moment, go forth with

irresistible might, and shake the idolatrous church of the seven hills

to its foundation. I look to it with confidence and trust: I look to

every gallant spirit and faithful heart to come forward and take his

share in the good work; and, with the name of the Lord on our side,

there is no fear of the result."

The conversation proceeded for some time in the same strain. With

eager fire, and with sometimes a not very reverend application of the

words of Scripture, Dr. Alting went on to advance his own opinions,

becoming more eager every moment, especially when the probability of

the Elector Palatine being chosen as their king by the states of

Bohemia was referred to.

The gentleman who was with him when Algernon Grey entered, took little

part in the discussion, remaining grave and somewhat stern in look;

though, from the few words he uttered, it was evident that his

religious views were the same as those of his two companions. He

smiled, indeed, in turn at the different sorts of enthusiasm of the

old man and the young one; and once Dr. Alting shook his finger at him

good-humouredly, saying: "Ah! Herbert, you would have men believe you

cold and stoical, and, for that purpose, in every affair of life you

act like no other man; but I know the fire that is under it all."

"Fire enough, when it is needed," answered Herbert; "but only when it

is needed, my good friend. If troops spend all their powder in firing

salutes, they will have none to charge their cannon with in the day of

battle; but as you are not expected to put on the cuirass, it is just

as well that you should keep up men's spirits, and fix their

determinations by your oratory. Only let me be quiet. You won't find

me wanting when the time comes."

"I trust none will be wanting," said Algernon Grey; "but yet I cannot

help feeling, that in this light-minded world, many whom we count upon

rashly, may fall from us readily."

"Too true, too true," said Herbert, shaking his head.

"I will not believe it," cried Dr. Alting; "with such a prince, and

such a cause, and such an object, every man, who has a particle of

truth in his nature, will do his duty, I am sure; and let the false

go--we can do without them."

"You must add the weak, too, my reverend friend," said Algernon Grey,

rising to depart; "but still, I do think, and I do trust, that there

are enough both firm and true in Europe, to accomplish this great

task, unless some sad accident occur, or some great mistake be

committed. We shall see, however; and in the mean time, farewell."

Dr. Alting shook hands with him warmly, asked where he could find him,

how long would be his stay in Heidelberg, and all those other

questions which courtesy dictated: but perhaps the reverend doctor

felt, in a degree not altogether pleasant, that his young friend, if

not so learned a man as himself in books and parchments, had another

sort of learning--that of the world--which he himself did not possess.

The gentleman who had been called Herbert seemed to feel differently;

and, when the young gentleman was about to depart, he rose, saying: "I

will go with you, and perhaps may show you some things of interest."

Then bidding adieu to Dr. Alting, he followed Algernon Grey out of the

room, and descended the stairs with him in silence. Under the shadow

of the doorway they found waiting the Knecht, who had guided the young

gentleman thither; but Herbert dismissed him, saying to his companion:

"I will be your guide back. Shall we stroll along to the church, or

visit some of the fortifications? Both are somewhat in your way it

would seem."

"Nay," answered Algernon, "with the church I have little to do, except

when my opinions are drawn forth by such a man as our learned friend;

but I will go whithersoever you choose to lead me."

"Well, then, we will stroll along and take things as they come,"

answered Herbert; "we can scarcely go amiss in this town and

neighbourhood, for each step has its own particular interest, or its

own beauty. It is a place I never weary of."

As he spoke they turned into one of the narrow streets that led up

towards the hills, and were crossing the castle-road, in order to take

a path through the woods, when Algernon Grey's quick ear caught the

sound of a voice calling to him. Looking round, he saw a gentleman

coming down with a hasty step, followed by two or three servants, and

instantly recognised the Baron of Oberntraut. A feeling--I might

almost call it a presentiment: one of those strange, inexplicable

foresights of a coming event, which sometimes put us on our guard

against approaching evil, made him say to his companion: "Oh! this is

the gentleman with whom I had a bet last night, I will rejoin you in a

moment;" and he advanced a step or two up the hill.

The next instant Oberntraut was by his side.

"I wish to speak a moment with you, sir," he said.

Algernon Grey bowed his head and was silent.

"We had a bet last night," continued the baron, with a flushed cheek

but somewhat embarrassed air; "my servants are carrying down the

amount to your inn."

"Thanks," answered Algernon Grey; "they will find some of my people

there, to whom they can deliver it."

"I always pay my debts, sir," said Oberntraut; "but I rather think

there is another account to be settled between us."

"Indeed!" replied Algernon Grey, calmly; "I am not aware of it. What

may it be?"

"Oh! sir, you assume ignorance!" rejoined the other in an insulting

tone: "in a word, then, we do not suffer foreign gentlemen to come

hither, win our money, and court our ladies, without making them pass

through some ordeal. Do you understand me now?"

"Perfectly," answered the young Englishman, with a slight smile; "such

words are not to be mistaken; and let me assure you, as I wish to see

everybody pleased, I will not disappoint you; but, at the same time,

we may conduct a matter of this sort without warmth, and with all

courtesy. I know not how I have aggrieved you; but that I ask not: it

is quite sufficient that you think yourself aggrieved, and I will give

you such opportunity of redressing yourself as you may wish for."

"I thank you, sir," replied the other in a more moderate tone; "when

and where shall it be?"

"Nay, that I must leave to you," answered the young Englishman; "I

will make but two conditions--that it be speedily, and that we embroil

no others in our quarrel. I have but one friend here, and as he has

been somewhat too famous in our own country for rencontres of this

kind, I would fain spare him any share in an affair of mine."

"Be that as you like," replied the baron; "on all accounts we shall be

better alone: the place must be one where we shall have no

interruption.--Let me think?--Yes, that will do.--Will you meet me

to-morrow on the bridge, each with a single page whom we can leave

behind at our convenience? I will lead you to a spot secure and shaded

from all eyes, where we shall have good turf and space enough."

"Agreed," answered Algernon Grey, "but why not this very day? I am

quite prepared."

"But I have a few hours' journey to take first," replied the baron;

"no, in your courtesy let it be to-morrow; and the safest hour will be

just before nightfall. Come a little earlier to the bridge, for we

have some small distance to go,--with our swords alone--is it not so?"

"As you will," said his companion. "Be it so then--in the grey I will

not fail you--good-morning, sir;" and, turning round, he rejoined his

new acquaintance Herbert, with an easy and unembarrassed air.

Herbert was not entirely deceived, however. He had been standing where

the young Englishman left him at about five paces' distance, where the

greater part of their conversation was inaudible; but he knew one of

the parties and his character well, and divined the other rightly. The

last words of Algernon Grey too, which, detached from the rest, had

seemed to the speaker insignificant, had been uttered in a louder

tone, and Herbert had heard him say distinctly,--"In the grey I will

not fail you--good-morning, sir." The expressions were nothing in

themselves; they might refer to any trifling and accidental

arrangement; but Herbert's eyes had been fixed upon the face of

Oberntraut, who stood fronting him, and he read the look that it wore,

if not with certainty, assuredly not wrongly.

As the two separated the baron doffed his hat and plume to Herbert

with every sign of high respect; and the other returned the

salutation, though but coldly. For a moment or two, as Algernon and

his companion walked up the hill, nothing was said; and then the

younger gentleman began to speak lightly of indifferent subjects,

thinking that longer silence might lead to suspicions. Herbert

answered not, but went on musing, till at length--as if he had paid

not the slightest attention to the words which had been falling on his

ear for the last two or three minutes--he broke forth at once with a

dry laugh, saying: "So, you have contrived to manufacture a quarrel

already."

"Nay, not so!" answered Algernon Grey; "if you mean with the Baron of

Oberntraut, let me assure you there is no quarrel of any kind between

us. I know of no offence that I have given him, and for my own part I

may safely say that I have received none. There was a bet between us

which I won, and he seems perhaps a little nettled; but what is that

to me?"

Herbert looked down thoughtfully, still walking on, and after a while

he paused, asking as abruptly as before,--"Have you many friends in

this place?"

"Nay, I have been here but eighteen hours," answered the other: "happy

is the man who can boast of many friends, take the whole world over

and pick them from the four quarters of the globe. I have none who

deserves the name within these walls, but the one who came with me."

"Well," replied the other, "should you require one, on occasion of

import, you know where to find one who has seen some hard blows given

in his day."

"I thank you much, and understand you rightly," said Algernon Grey;

"should I have need of such help, depend upon it, I will apply to you

and none other. But at present, believe me, I have none."

"What! not '_in the grey?_" asked Herbert, with a laugh; and then,

whistling two or three bars of an English air, he added, "Will you

spend an hour or two with an old soldier to-night, my young friend?"

"Willingly," replied Algernon Grey, smiling at the suspicions in which

he clearly saw the invitation was given. "When shall I come? My time

is quite free."

"Oh! come an hour before twilight," answered Herbert, "and stay till

the castle clock strikes ten--Will that suit you?"

"Right well," said the young Englishman, "I will not fail by a moment,

though I see you doubt me. But where am I to find you, and who am I to

ask for?"

"I have deceived myself, or you are cheating me," answered Herbert

bluntly, and speaking in English; "but come at all events. You will

find me at the castle--ask for Colonel Herbert, or the English Ritter.

They will show you where I lodge."

"Be sure I will be there," rejoined Algernon; "I did not know you were

a countryman; but that will make the evening pass only the more

pleasantly, for we shall have thoughts in common, as well as a common

language; and, to say sooth, though this German is a fine tongue, yet,

while speaking it badly, as I do, I feel like one of the mountebanks

we see in fairs dancing a saraband in fetters."

"You speak it well enough," answered his companion, "and it is a fine

rich tongue; but at the court, with the usual levity of such light

places, they do not value their own wholesome dialect. They must have

a dish of French, forsooth; and use a language which they do not half

know, and which, if they did, is not half as good a one as their

own--a poor pitiful whistling tongue, like the wind blowing through a

key hole without the melody of the Italian, the grandeur of the

Spanish, the richness of the German, or the strength of the English."

"Yet it is a good language for conversation," replied Algernon Grey,

willing to follow upon any track that led from the subject of his

rencontre with Oberntraut.

"To say things in a double sense, to tickle the ears of light women,

and make bad jests upon good subjects," rejoined Herbert, whose John

Bull prejudices seemed somewhat strong; "that is all that it is good

for.--Now look here," he continued, as they reached a commanding point

of the hill, "did you ever see a place so badly fortified as this?

There is not much to be done with it that is true; for it is commanded

by so many accessible points, that it would cost the price of an

empire to make it a fortress. Yet if the Elector would spend upon

strengthening his residence against his enemies, one-half of what he

is throwing away upon laying out that stupid garden, I would undertake

to hold it out for a year and a day against any force that king or

emperor could bring against it."

"Something might be done, it is true," answered the young Englishman;

"but it could never be made a strong place, domineered as it is by all

these mountains. If you fortified them up to the top, it would require

an army to garrison them."

"Ay, that is the mistake that will be committed by engineers to the

last day, I believe," answered Herbert, who had his peculiar notions

on all subjects. "They think they must fortify every commanding point.

But there is another and better method of guarding them. Render them

inaccessible to artillery, that is all that requires to be done, and

then they need no further defence. On the contrary, they become

ramparts that will crumble to no balls. There is no escarpment like

the face of a rock. Now this same mad gardener fellow, this Saloman de

Caus, who is working away there: he has filled up half a valley,

thrown down half a mountain, and the same labour and money, spent in

another way, would have rendered every point inaccessible from which a

fire could be opened on the castle.--But, look there! Horses are

gathering at the gates, and men in gilded jackets. The prince and his

fair dame, and all the wild boys and girls of the court are going out

upon some progress or expedition--I must hasten down as fast as I can,

for I want to speak with one of them before they go.--Remember the

hour, and fail not. Can you find your way back?"

"Oh, yes! no fear," answered Algernon Grey, "I will be with you

to-night;" and waving his hand, Herbert hurried down towards the

castle.

CHAPTER VI.

"Tony," cried the page, standing in the gateway of the Golden Stag,

and turning half-round towards a sort of covered half-enclosed shed or

booth in the court yard, where the English servant, who had

accompanied the two travellers on their journey to Heidelberg, was

cleaning a pair of his master's silver stirrups, "here's a man

inquiring for my lord, and I cannot make out a word that he says."

"What does he want?" cried Tony from the shed, rubbing away as hard as

if his life depended upon making the stirrups look brighter than the

groom had been able to render them.

"I can't tell," replied the boy; "but he seems to want to give me a

hundred crowns."

"Take them, take them," rejoined the man, sagaciously, "and ask no

questions. I'll tell you what, Frill, always take gold when you can

get it. It comes slow, goes fast, and calls no man master long: a very

changeable servant; but a very useful one, while we have him; and

there is no fear of his growing old in our service. Don't let the man

know you can speak French, or he might put you to disagreeable

interrogatories. Pocket and be silent; it is the way many a man

becomes great in this world."

The advice was given in that sort of bantering tone, which showed

evidently that it was not intended to be strictly followed; and the

page, taking the crowns, held them up before the eyes of the man who

brought them, saying: "For Algernon Grey?"

"Ja, Ja!" said the German servant; "for Algernon Grey;" and, adding a

word or two more, which might have been Syriac for aught the page

knew, he withdrew, leaving the money in the boy's hands.

As soon as he was gone, Freville or Frill, as he was familiarly termed

by the household, walked back to where his companion was at work, and

quietly counted over the money upon the loose board which formed the

only table of the shed.

"I must give this to some one to keep, till my lord's return," he

said; "will you take care of it, Tony?"

"Not I," replied the servant; "I repeat the Lord's Prayer every

morning and evening; the first time, to keep me out of temptation by

day; the second, to defend me against it by night--I'll have none of

it, Master Frill; it is a good sum, and too much for any poor man's

pocket, especially where the plaket-hole is wide and the bottom

somewhat leaky."

"I will take it up to Sir William, then," said the boy; "for I won't

keep it myself. It would be risking my lord's money sadly. Even now my

fingers begin to feel somewhat sticky, as if I had been handling the

noses of horse-chestnut buds."

"Get you gone, for a graceless young villain," answered Tony; "what

have you to do with the noses of other men's children; you will have

enough to do with your own, if I guess right; but, as to the money,

methinks it is quite as safe in your pocket, as Sir William's."

"Why, you don't think he would keep it, Tony?" said the page in an

inquiring tone.

"As to keeping it," answered Tony, "that's as it may be. He never

could keep his own, therefore why should he keep other people's; but

between you and I, Frill--" and he dropped his voice as if he did not

wish to be overheard--"our young lord is not likely to gain much by

Sir William's company. We did very well without him; and though he may

not choose to pick my lord's pocket of hard gold, he may take from him

what gold will not buy. I have a strange notion, somehow, that it was

not altogether for love he came. If it were, why did not he come long

before? But I remember him well, when he was a boy; and he was a

cunning devil then; as full of mischief as a pistachio-nut. Why he

hung the buttery hatch with a wire like a bird-trap; and the moment

old Jonas put his hand out, it fell and nearly chopped off his

fingers."

This was a jest just fitted to the meridian of a boy's understanding;

and he burst into a fit of laughter at the anecdote.

"Ay, ay," continued Tony, "it would have passed as a wild lad's fun,

if we had not known that he had a spite at Jonas, who, one day, when

he was thirsty, refused him a cup of hypocras that he wanted, and

would only give him a jug of ale.--But who in the name of silks and

satins, is this peeping about the court on the tips of his toes, with

rosettes and sword-knots enough to swallow him up? It is a page of the

court, I do believe. To him, Frill, to him! Speak French to this one,

for he looks as if he had been dieted on comfits and spiced wine; and

nothing will go down with him, depend upon it, unless it be garnished

with French tongue."

Following the suggestion of his companion, Frill advanced, and the two

pages met in the midst of the court-yard, where they stood bowing and

complimenting each other, with an extravagance of courtesy which had

nearly overpowered good Tony with laughter.

"My heavens! what a pair of monkeys," he exclaimed. "Take away their

cloaks, and stick a tail through their satin breeches, and you have

got the beast as perfect as at a puppet-show. Look at that little

monster Frill, if he has not wriggled himself into an attitude in

which he cannot stand while I count four. There, 'tis all over; and

now he twists to the other side.--What does he want, Frill?" he

continued, raising his voice; "talk to him, boy, and don't stand there

grinning like a cat-ape."

"He comes down from the castle," answered Frill, turning round, very

well satisfied with the graces he had been displaying, "to ask my lord

and Sir William to join the court in a progress to Schönau."

"Tell him Master Algernon Grey is out, and Heaven knows when he will

be back again," exclaimed Tony, who was wearied with the courtly air

of the pages. "What does the devil's foal say now?" he continued, when

Frill had rendered the reply he dictated, and received a speech and a

low bow in return.

"He says I must tell Master William Lovet then," replied the page; and

conducting the other youth ceremoniously back to the threshold of the

gateway, he took leave of him after some farther civil speeches on the

one part, and directions on the other.

"There, go and tell Sir William," said Tony, when the boy rejoined

him, "and lay the money on the table in our lord's room.--And hark

you, Frill, you may as well keep an eye on Sir William's doings; I've

doubts, Frill, I have doubts; and I should like to know what he is

seeking; for I can't help thinking there's more under his jerkin than

God's will and a good conscience."

"If I thought he meant my lord any harm," answered the boy, boldly,

"I'd drive my dagger into him."

"Pooh! nonsense; prick him with a needle or a cobbler's awl," answered

Tony, "you'd only let him blood and make him more feverish towards

spring time. No, no, my boy, he'll give no cause for offence; but a

man may do more harm sometimes with a simple word than a drawn

sword--I'll watch him well, however; do you so, too; and if you find

out anything, let me know.--Now, away with you, away with you, and

tell the good man above; for if he do not make haste, he will not be

in time, and then your young bones are likely to suffer."

The page turned to obey, but he had scarcely reached the archway, when

William Lovet issued forth, descending from above, and called loudly

for his horse.

The page's communication, however, seemed to make an alteration in his

purpose; and after pausing for a moment or two to think, he re-entered

the house, ordering everything to be prepared for him to join the

train of Frederic and Elizabeth, as soon as he heard them coming down

the hill.

William Lovet was a very different man in the solitude of his own

chamber and in the company of his cousin. He now waited some twenty

minutes, expecting almost every moment to hear the approach of the

cavalcade, which was to pass before the windows; but he showed no

impatience, no lover-like haste to join the lady at whose suggestion

he doubted not the invitation had been given. Sitting at the table,

with his hat cast down and his sword taken out of the belt, he leaned

his head upon his hand, and seemed buried in meditation. His brow was

contracted, and heavy with apparently gloomy thought; and his hand

played with the curls of his long dark hair unconsciously. Like many

men of strong passions, who set a careful guard upon their tongue when

any other human being is near to hear and comment on their words, but

feel painfully the restraint then put upon themselves, he was apt, as

if for relief, to suffer the secret counsels of his heart to break

forth at times, when he felt perfectly certain they would reach no

other ear but his own. And this was one of those moments when the

workings of strong purposes within him, forced him to give way to the

dangerous habit. It was no long continued monologue that he spoke, no

loud and vehement outburst of passion; but broken fragments of

sentences--as if a portion of his thoughts would clothe themselves in

words, and were suddenly checked before they were complete--came forth

muttered and disjointed from his lips.

"It must do this time," he said; and then he fell into thought again,

continuing, in about a minute after, "If it do not, means must be

found to make it--the time is very short--In another year he goes

back--To think of his having wasted full four years amongst all that

could tempt a man!--He must be a stone--but he is touched now, or I am

mistaken--I must get this woman to help me--make her a tool when she

thinks herself a conqueror! Ha! ha! ha!" and he laughed aloud. "I will

never leave it till it is finished.--It may cost a good deal yet; for

he is not easily led, that's clear.--Example, example! That has been

always wanting. We will accustom his mind to it--break him like a

young colt that first flies from the hand, but soon suffers every

child to pat him.--Ay, he is in the high road, if he do not take

flight and dart off; but surely, in the wide world of accidents, we

shall find something, which, improved by skilful management, will keep

him here till that same glittering web of golden threads, called

love's net, is round him--then let the poor stag struggle, and pant,

and toss about, he will not easily break through, and the prize is

mine."

His farther thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Come

in," he said; and then exclaimed, in surprise, as the very object of

his contemplation stood before him, "Why, Algernon, you have become

mighty ceremonious."

"Nay," answered Algernon Grey, laughing, "I thought you were not

alone; for I heard one voice speaking, at least; and with a gentleman

of your pursuits, one can never tell how inopportune a visit may be."

"Pshaw!" cried Lovet; "'tis a bad habit I have from my mother. We rash

and thoughtless folks, unlike you calm and cautious ones, cannot keep

the secrets of our bosom in the safe casket of the heart. We must

speak out our thoughts, whatever they may be; and, if we can find no

other man to tell them to, we tell them to ourselves."

"The safest confidant by far," answered Algernon Grey. "What now,

boy?" he continued, turning to the page, who had followed him into the

room, and was waiting at hand for an opportunity to speak.

"May it please you, noble sir," replied the page, "a man, with a badge

upon his arm, brought hither a hundred crowns, whence or why I could

not make out, for he had neither French nor English; but he said

Algernon Grey well enough; and so I laid them in your chamber."

"I understand," replied his master; "what more?"

"A page from the court, sir," answered the boy; "a very gallant youth,

full of fine essences and rich conceits, with satin in abundance, and

no lack of ribands----"

"On my life! he must have been your counterpart, Frill," exclaimed his

master, laughing; and, turning to his companion, he added: "This boy

has been studying Sydney or Lilly, or some high-flown writer. Well,

most delicate Frill, what said your delicate friend?"

"He brought a message, noble sir," replied the page, "inviting

Messieurs Algernon Grey and William Lovet to join the cavalcade of the

court, going joyously to Schönau. They were to pass by the inn in half

an hour."

"And, pray, how did this ingenuous youth deliver himself?" asked

Algernon Grey.

"Oh! with marvellous fineness, my lord," replied the page, "with every

courteous invention that his genius could suggest."

"But the tongue, Master Frill, the tongue?" cried Algernon; "if you

could not understand one man, how could you understand the other?"

"He spoke French, my lord, with the utmost perfection," replied the

boy.

"Come, Algernon, you are wasting time," exclaimed Lovet; "order your

horses and your people, or you will be too late."

Algernon Grey mused for a single instant, and then replied: "I do not

go, William."

"Nay, not go!" exclaimed his friend. "Why, you cannot help yourself,

unless you would be called the Great Bear of England. In every country

of the world such an invitation from the prince is considered a

command."

"What reply did you make, Frill?" asked the boy's master.

"I said what Tony told me," replied the page, namely, "'Master Algernon

Grey is out, and Heaven knows when he will return.'"

"I shall not go, William," repeated the young gentleman, in a

thoughtful tone; "I have my own reasons, and assuredly I do not ride

to-day."

"Then you are either going to fight a duel, make love, or, in the

silent and tender solitude of your chamber in an inn, give yourself up

to sweet meditation of your lady's ankles," replied William Lovet,

resuming his usual bantering tone. "Methinks, I see you, sitting with

the indicator digit of your dexter hand pressed softly on the delicate

cheek of youth, the eyebrow raised, one eye to heaven, the other to

earth, with a slight poetical squint upon your countenance, and your

bosom heaving sighs like a pot of hot broth.--Come, come, Algernon,

cast off these humours, or turn anchorite at once. Live like other

men, and don't go about the world as if your grandmother's brocade

petticoat were hanging for ever over your head, like an extinguisher,

putting out the flame of youth, and health, and strength, and love,

and life. Look about you; see if you can find one single man, of your

own age, bearing willingly about upon his shoulders scruples enough to

cram a pedlar's pack full of wares, as flimsy and worthless as any it

ever contained. Be a man, be a man! Surely, your boyhood is past; and

you have no longer to fear the pedagogue's rod, if you stray a little

beyond the tether of your mother's apron-string."

Algernon Grey smiled calmly, but merely nodded his head, saying: "I

shall not go, Lovet, and all the less for a laugh. If I could be

turned from my purposes by a jest, I should think myself a boy,

indeed. You will find that out at last, good friend. But, hark, there

are the trumpets; get you gone, and good fortune attend you. Call out

his horse, Frill, that he may not imitate my sullen boorishness, and

keep the princely party waiting."

"Well," cried Lovet, shrugging his shoulders, "most reverend cousin, I

will wish you a good morning. In your solemn prayers and devout

outpourings of the heart, remember your poor sinful cousin, and

especially petition that he may never see the evil of his ways, nor

let one pleasure slip from him that fortune offers to his lip. It is a

devout prayer; for if I did not enjoy myself I should do something

much worse; and the devil would not only have me in the end, but in

the beginning. Adieu, adieu! Here they come; I hear the clatter;" and

running to the door he closed it sharply behind him, while Algernon

Grey, without approaching too near, turned to the window and gazed out

into the market-place.

The next instant a gay and splendid train swept up, preceded by two

trumpeters in gorgeous liveries. Magnificent horses, many-coloured

apparel, gold and embroidery, graceful forms, and joyous bearing,

rendered the party one which any young heart might have been glad to

join; but the eye of Algernon Grey ran over the various groups of

which it was composed, seemingly seeking some particular object, with

a curious and inquiring glance. It rested principally on the various

female figures of the princess's train; but almost all the ladies wore

the small black mask, or loup, then common at the court of France, and

sometimes, though not so frequently, seen in England. The heat of the

day and the power of the sun gave them a fair excuse, in the care of

their complexions, for adopting a mode most favourable to intrigue;

and, whoever it might be that the young gentleman's eye sought for in

the cavalcade, he could not ascertain, with any certainty, which she

was.

The etiquette of the court prevented the train from stopping for any

of the expected party; but, before it had defiled towards the bridge,

the horse of William Lovet dashed forward from the gateway; and, after

a low reverence to the Elector, he fell back and attached himself to

the side of one of the ladies in the train, who greeted him with a

playful nod.

Algernon Grey seated himself at the table, leaned his head

thoughtfully upon his hand, and remained in that position for nearly a

quarter of an hour.

"No," he said, at length, "no, I will not risk her happiness or my

own--I will not do it again--it has been once too often."

He rose as he spoke, and after giving some orders to his servants,

strolled down to the river's side, and there, hiring a rude bark, many

of which were moored to the bank, he directed the boatman to let it

drop slowly down the stream. The hours passed dully, though he was not

one of those to whom the silent commune of the heart with itself is

wearisome. But there was a cause why that calm meditation, in which he

had often found true pleasure, was not now a resource. He tried to

cast it off, to fix his mind upon subjects foreign to that upon which

his heart was resolved to dwell; and the struggle to escape from an

ever recurring object of thought is always heavy labour. Still the

hours flew, though with a flagging wing; and when he calculated that

the time of his promised visit to Colonel Herbert at the castle was

approaching he returned to the town, and making some change in his

apparel, walked slowly up the hill.

The sun was indeed declining, but when he reached the gates of the

castle, which stood open, the clock in the bridge tower struck seven,

and showed him that he was earlier on the way than he had proposed to

be. "Well," he thought, "it matters not. The great and the gay are all

absent, and I can stroll about the gardens and courts till the hour

comes. Doubtless they will give me admission."

He found no difficulty in gaining entrance, and a servant, of whom he

inquired for the lodging of Colonel Herbert, courteously accompanied

him across the court-yard, saying he would point it out. Entering the

building at the further angle of the court, they passed under the

arcade of three stages near the Knights' hall, and then through a long

stone passage, to the foot of a flight of steps in the open air, above

the highest of which, on a level with his own breast, Algernon Grey

saw a wide stone platform, like that of an enormous rampart,

surrounded by a balustrade flanked by two small octagon turrets. The

tops of the mountains on the other side of the Neckar appeared above

the balustrade, the clear blue sky was seen over head, and the evening

song of one of the autumn-singing birds made itself heard from the

castle gardens, rising clear and melodious over the dull hum which

came up from the city below.

"I am half an hour before my time," said the young gentleman to the

servant, "and if you will just point out to me which is Colonel

Herbert's lodging, I will wait here till the hour appointed. I may as

well pass the minutes in this pleasant place as any where else."

"This is the Altan, sir," replied the man; "the view from it is

greatly admired; and if you turn to the right at the end, it will lead

you by the only passage there to a door in the first tower--you see it

there. The English knight's lodging is above, and you cannot miss your

way. You might, indeed, go round by the arsenal; but the sentinel will

not let you pass, unless I am with you."

"Oh, I shall find it easily, I doubt not," answered the young

Englishman; and adding thanks, and a substantial token thereof, he

mounted the steps and walked slowly forward to the parapet, while a

crowd of the beautiful objects which only nature's treasury can

display, rushed upon his eyes in dream-like splendour. Hardly had the

first feeling of admiration been felt, however, when a slight

exclamation of surprise uttered close to him made him turn his head

towards one of the two small octagon turrets which stood at either

extreme end of the Altan.

The door was open, and he beheld coming forward a female figure which

it required but one look to recognise. There was a well-pleased smile

upon her countenance, bland, frank, and simple. She saw her agreeable

companion of the night before; she remembered with satisfaction, and

without one agitating thought, the pleasant hours she had spent with

him, and advanced gaily and gladly to meet him, only conscious of

friendship and esteem.

Algernon Grey was better read in the world than his companion Lovet

believed--aye, even in its most difficult page, the heart of woman.

Nevertheless, though he marked the lady's manner, and instantly drew

conclusions from it, those conclusions were not altogether just. He

saw that straightforward well-pleased look--the free and unembarrassed

air, and he said within his heart,--"She at least is in no danger. It

is for myself I must beware."

The courtesies of life, however, were not to be omitted; and, though

with a grave look, he met his fair companion with the usual

salutations of the morning, proposing to himself to speak a few words,

and then withdraw. But there are as strong attractions as those of the

magnet for the needle; and, once by her side, resolution failed.

"I am very glad to see you," she said, with the same beaming look; "I

had come out hither for a solitary walk upon the Altan while the court

is absent, and little thought of having a companion who can enjoy this

scene as I do."

"How comes it you are not with the gay party?" asked Algernon Grey; "I

thought all the world had gone."

"But you and I," answered the lady, "and one whom you have not seen,

but whom you should know before you leave this place; for a wiser or a

kinder being does not live than the Electress Dowager, Louisa Juliana.

No, I stayed to read to and amuse her; for she has been ill

lately--what with some anxiety and some sorrow. She would not let me

remain longer, or I would gladly have done so; for she has been as a

mother to me when I most needed a mother's care--and what can I ever

do to repay her?"

"Love her," answered the young Englishman; "that is the repayment from

noble heart to noble heart. But this is indeed a splendid view! What a

confusion of magnificent objects present themselves at once to the

eye, with the sun setting over yon wide plain and those golden hills

beyond."

"Ay," answered Agnes, following with her eyes the direction in which

he pointed, "and those golden hills hide in their bosom, as in a rich

casket, a thousand jewels. There is not a valley amongst them that is

not rich in loveliness, not a hill or craggy steep that does not bear

up some castle or abbey, some legend of old times, or some deep

history. Can you not mark, too, the current of the glorious Rhine, the

King of Europe's streams, as he flows onward there?--No? Beside those

towers, you catch a glistening of the waters as they pour forward to

revel in the magnificence beyond."

"I see," answered Algernon Grey, "I always love the Rhine, with its

vine-covered hills and castled rocks and its storied memories. Its

course seems to me like that of some fine old poem, where, in even

flow, and amidst images of beauty, the mind is led on with ever

varying delight till in the end it falls into calm, solemn,

contemplative repose."

"I know little of poetry or poets," replied Agnes. "Some, indeed, I

have read, especially some of the Italian poets, and they are very

beautiful, it is true; but I fancy it is better to know the poem than

the poet, the work rather than the writer--at least so it has been

with all those I have seen."

"It is true, I believe," said Algernon Grey, "our thoughts are

generally more poetic than our actions, almost always than our

demeanour; invariably, I may say, than our persons; and when we

remember, that the highest quality of the human mind places before us

in a poem only that which mature and deliberate judgment pronounces to

be the best of its fruits, it is not wonderful that the man should

seem less, when we can see him near, than the poem gave us cause to

expect."

In such conversation as this, of an elaborate and somewhat didactic

turn, the young Englishman thought himself perfectly safe. He fancied

he could discuss poetry and poems, beautiful scenery, the grand works

of nature or of art, with the loveliest being ever eye beheld, without

the slightest danger to himself or others. Unwarned by the fate of

Beatrice and her lover, or of Abelard and his pupil, he fancied that

on such cold and general themes, he could discourse in safety, even

with the fair creature beside him; but he forgot, that through the

whole world of the beautiful and the excellent, in nature and in art,

there is a grand tie which links with the rest the heart of man: that

sympathy is love, in a shallower, or a deeper degree: and he forgot,

moreover, that the transition is so easy, by the ever open doors of

association, from the most cold and indifferent things to the warmest

and the dearest, that the heart must be well guarded, the mind well

assured, before it ventures to deal with aught that excites the fancy

in companionship with one who has already some hold upon the

imagination.

Insensibly, they knew not well how, their conversation deviated from

the mere objects tangible to the senses, to the effects produced by

those objects on the mind. From the mind they went to the heart; and

Agnes, for a time, went on to talk with glowing eloquence, of all

those feelings and emotions, of which it was evident enough to her

companion, she spoke by hearsay rather than by experience. Her words

were careless, brilliant, even, perhaps, we may say light, in its

better sense, for some time after their discourse took that turn. She

jested with the subject, she sported with it--like a child who, having

found a shining piece of steel, makes a plaything of it, unknowing

that it is a dagger which, with a light blow, may cut the knot of

life. Suddenly, however, from some feeling, undefined even to herself,

she stopped in full career, became thoughtful, serious, more

avaricious of her words. A deeper tone pervaded them when they were

spoken; and she seemed to have found unexpectedly, that she was

dealing with things which at some time might have a more powerful and

heartfelt interest for herself, and that she had better escape from

such topics, treating them gravely, whilst she was obliged to treat of

them at all. Her conversation, in short, was like a gay pleasure-boat,

which quits the shore in sunshine and merriment, but, finding itself

far from land, makes its way back with earnest speed with the first

cloud that gathers on the sky.

Her altered manner called Algernon Grey to himself; and, as they

turned back again along the Altan, he said, anxious to fly from a

danger which he felt had its fascination too, but yet mingling with

the adieu he was about to speak such a portion of feeling as might

pass for ordinary gallantry; "I must now leave you, I believe, for the

sun is so low, that it warns me of my engagement to spend this evening

with a countryman of ours, named Colonel Herbert, whom I have made

acquaintance with this morning--indeed, it is past the hour."

"Oh, I will show you the way," answered Alice, with a smile; "I am

going thither, too; but do stay for an instant to look at that star

rising over the Odenwald. How clear and calm it shines! How round, and

full, and unvarying! It must be a planet; and I cannot help thinking

often, that woman's true sphere is like that of yonder star. There may

be brighter things in the heavens, twinkling and sparkling with

transcendent light; but her fate is like that of the planet, to wander

round one sole object, from which she receives all her brightness, in

constant, tranquil, peaceful watchfulness, calm but not dull, and

bright but not alone--now come."

CHAPTER VII.

In a large circular room, with a massive column in the midst, from

which sprang the groins of the numerous arches which formed the vault,

sat the stout soldier Herbert, with his two companions, Algernon Grey

and the fair Agnes. The chamber itself, notwithstanding its unusual

form, was comfortable and highly decorated. The floor, somewhat

unusual in those times, and in that country, was of wood; the stone

column in the centre was surrounded by a richly-carved oak seat,

furnished with cushions of crimson velvet; and the heavy mass of the

pillar, which rose above, was broken and relieved by four groups of

armour gathered into the shape of trophies. Seats and bookcases, and

those articles of furniture which are now called _etagères_, all

likewise of oak, ornamented with velvet and fringes of a crimson

colour, occupied the spaces between the windows; and on the one side,

midway from the pillar to the wall, was a table covered with clean

white linen, supporting various baskets of rich and early fruit, with

wine and bread, but no other viands.

On the other side was also a table, on which were cast negligently

some books, a pair of gauntlets, two or three daggers from different

lands, and a number of objects, valuable either for their rarity or

for the beauty of their workmanship. A fine picture stood on the

ground, leaning against a chair, at one point; an antique marble vase,

richly sculptured, was seen at another; a lance appeared resting on

the shoulder of a statue; and the mask of a satyr, from some Roman

building, was placed in the gaping vizor of a helmet which stood at

the foot of a bookcase. The whole was lighted by crescets hung against

the column, which shed a soft and pleasant lustre through the wide

room.

The host and his guests were seated at the table where the fruit was

spread, and they seemed to be enjoying highly their simple and

innocent meal. Herbert himself was gayer in manner than he had been in

the morning; Agnes gave way to the flow of her young bright fancies

with as little restraint, or even--less, perhaps, than when she had

been with Algernon Grey alone; and the young Englishman feeling that,

for that evening at least, it was useless to struggle against the fate

that had brought them together, yielded his spirit to the pleasure of

the moment, and resolved to enjoy the cup which he had not sought to

taste.

It must not indeed be supposed that the conversation was all of a

bright or cheerful character; for it went on, in its natural course,

from subject to subject, resembling in its aspect a rich autumn day,

where glowing sunshine and sombre masses of cloud alternately sweep

over the prospect, giving a varied interest to the scene.

The conversation of Herbert himself was not in general of a very

cheerful tone; it was occasionally pungent, shrewd, and keen in

the remarks, but that of a man who, having mingled much with the

world--partaken of its pleasures, shared in its strife, and known its

sorrows--had withdrawn for several years from any very active

participation in the pursuits of other men, still watching eagerly as

a spectator the scenes in which he had once been an actor.

The connexion between him and Agnes had somewhat puzzled Algernon Grey

at his first entrance. Their evident familiarity, their affection one

for the other, had perhaps pained him for an instant--it was but for

an instant; for, though she gave the old soldier both her hands, and

kissed with her glowing lips his weather-beaten cheek, it was all done

so frankly, so candidly, that the young Englishman felt there must be

something to warrant it--that there was nothing to be concealed. He

then asked himself more than once, what the relationship could be? but

it was not till he had been there nearly an hour, that the fair girl,

in addressing Herbert, called him "My dear uncle."

Algernon Grey asked himself why he should have felt pained at her

familiarity with any man, whether her near relative or not?--but it

was a question which he could not or would not answer, and he hurried

away from it to other things. "I knew not," he said, "that this fair

lady was your kinswoman, Colonel Herbert, though we spoke of her at

good Dr. Alting's this morning."

"You gave me no reason to know that it was of her you spoke," answered

Herbert, with a smile.

"Yes, methinks I did," said the other gaily: "I told you I had been at

the court revel last night, and had passed the hours with a lady whom

I described right well."

"Oh, let me hear, dear uncle! let me hear!" exclaimed Agnes; "I should

so much like to hear a stranger's description of myself,--you must

tell me all he said."

"That is because you are vain, my child," answered the old soldier;

"you would not like to hear it, if you thought he had blamed

you:--Nay, I will not tell you a word."

"Then I will divine for myself," cried Agnes; "and you shall see

whether I am vain or not. He said he had met a wild romantic girl, not

very courtly in her manners, who had talked to him all night on themes

which might have suited a painter or a chaplain better than a court

lady; that she danced better than she talked,--dressed better than she

danced,--and had a sovereign objection to love-speeches."

Algernon Grey smiled, and Herbert replied, tapping her cheek with his

fingers, but looking round to their young companion: "You see, sir, in

what these women's vanity consists--dancing and dressing! But you are

wrong, Agnes, altogether. He said not a word of your dress,--he took

no notice of your dancing,--he did not object to your prattle,--and he

told me nothing of his having made you love-speeches."

"Neither did he," cried Agnes, with her cheek glowing at the

conclusion which her relation had drawn; "we heard many a one passing

around us, but he made none. That was the reason I liked his

conversation, and I told him so."

"You tell too readily what is in your heart, my child," said Herbert;

"and yet, good faith, I would not have it otherwise. But of one thing

you may be sure, that the man I would ask here was too much a

gentleman to say ought of a lady which was not pleasing to my ear.

What he said came to this: that you were a good girl, and unlike most

others he had met. Was it not so, Master Grey?"

"Somewhat differently expressed and coloured," answered Algernon Grey;

"but, at all events, the substance was no worse;" and, willing to

change the theme, he went on to say, "That good Dr. Alting seems a

zealous and enthusiastic man. It is strange that in the commerce with

the world of a long life he has not lost more of the fire which

generally burns brightly only in youth."

"He has seen little of life," answered Herbert, "knows little of the

world, or he would not entertain such high hopes from such doubtful

prognostications."

"Then you think his expectations regarding the result of this election

will be disappointed?" asked the young Englishman.

Herbert mused gravely, and then replied: "I know not what portion of

his expectations you allude to, or whether you mean all. If the

latter, I say some of them will certainly be verified: Frederick will

be elected, of that I entertain no doubt. These stern Bohemians will

never choose a drunkard and a knave, and with that exception there is

no other competitor of name. Then, again, that there will be the

grand--perhaps the only opportunity that ever will be seen of

rendering the pure Protestant faith predominant in Germany,--nay,

more, of breaking the Austrian chain from the neck of the captive

empire. I do not at all deny, that the opportunity will be there, but

will there be men to seize it? That is what I doubt. Will there be men

who, having stretched forth the hand to take the golden occasion, will

not, when they have clutched it, suffer it to slip from their grasp?

That is the great question; for to fail is worse than not to

undertake. The head on which the crown of Bohemia now falls should be

one full of those rare energies which lose no chance, and which

command success; there should be experience or genius, and, above

all, indomitable firmness of character and activity of mind. He

should be a man of one grand purpose,--cautious as resolute, watchful

as enterprising, leading not led, obstinate in preference to

wavering,--with the whole powers of heart and mind bent to the

attainment of a single object;--with neither eyes, nor ears, nor

thoughts for aught but that. The path is upon a glacier, with a

precipice below: one slip is destruction. Now, good as he is,--brave,

intelligent, noble, sincere, devoted,--is the Elector endowed with

powers that will bear him up through dangers and difficulties such as

the world has seldom seen?"

"Often, where princes themselves would fail," answered Algernon Grey,

"wise counsellors and great generals render them successful."

"He must be a wise prince, to choose wise counsellors," said Herbert.

"Have we any here?--Besides, if you would calculate the results of the

strife about to spring up, look at the materials of the two parties.

This is, in truth, a struggle betwixt the Protestants and Papists of

Germany. Now, there is something in the very nature of the two

religions which gives disunion to the one, consolidation to the other.

The Papists are all agreed on every essential point; they are all

tutored in the same school, look to the same objects, have in the most

important matters the same interests. The least attack upon their

religion is a rallying cry for them all; their wills bend to its

dictates, their banners unfurl at its call, their swords spring forth

in its defence. They are one nation, one tribe, by a stronger tie than

common country or common origin. They are one in religion and the

religion is one. But what is the case with the Protestants? Split into

sects, divided into parties, recognising no authority but their own

individual judgments, they hate each other, with a hatred perhaps

stronger than that which they feel towards the Romanists; or are cold

to each other, which is worse. There is no bond between them but the

worst of bonds--a common enmity to another faith. No, no, the whole

tendencies of one party are to division, the whole tendencies of the

other to union, and union is strength."

"Nay, my dear uncle," cried Agnes, "to hear your arguments, one would

think you a Papist."

"Hold your wild tongue, you unreasoning child," answered Herbert,

good-humouredly; "my arguments go to quite a contrary end. Were there

not innate truth unimpeachable in the doctrines of the Protestants,

there would not be one sect of them left by this time, so potent are

the means arrayed against them, so feeble are the earthly bonds that

hold them together. Were it not for the power of truth upon their

side, the first blast of wind would blow them from the earth; but

great is truth, and it will prevail, however weak be the hands that

support it, however strong the arms raised to crush it."

"Yours is a gloomy view, nevertheless," rejoined Algernon Grey; "but

we must still trust to the vigour of truth for the support of a just

cause. Many will doubtless fall away in the hour of need. Of that I am

aware; but if they carry with them only their own weakness and the

divisions of the party, their absence will but give strength."

"Well, let us talk of it no more," answered Herbert, "the book of fate

has so many pages unopened that who can tell what may be written on

the next? That casque which you see there, crowning the arms on this

side of the pillar, was worn by the good and great Coligni. Did he

think when he last carried it, that the day of St. Bartholomew, then

so nigh, would see his massacre and that of his companions? Did he

think that the king, who then leaned upon his shoulder, promising to

act by his counsel in all things, would command his assassination? or

that the gallant young prince, whom he appreciated in most things so

justly, would abandon the faith for which they had both shed their

blood, and be murdered by one of the base instruments of the religion

he adopted? He must be a madman or inspired who ventures to prophesy

even the deeds or events of to-morrow."

"And this, then, was the casque of Coligni?" said Algernon Grey,

rising and approaching the pillar; "one of the greatest men,

undoubtedly, that ever lived, whose spirit seemed to revel in

misfortunes, and whose genius appeared, even to his enemies, but the

more bright for defeat."

"Ay, fortune was only constant against him," answered Herbert,

following with Agnes, "he went on with still increasing renown and

disaster, till his glory and his reverses were closed by his

assassination."

"The body perished," said Agnes in a sweet low tone, "and with it all

that was perishable. The immortal remained, the fame that calumny

could never sully, to this earth; the spirit that triumphed over every

reverse, to heaven, from whence it came."

Herbert laid his hand upon her shoulder, gazing at her with a

well-pleased smile. "You may well speak proudly of him, my child," he

said, "for your noble kinsman has left a name which the world cannot

match. There are some strange things here," he continued abruptly,

turning to Algernon Grey. "Do you see this ancient cuirass shaped

almost like a globe?"

"Ay, and that ghastly hole in the left breast," cried Agnes, "what a

tale that tells! Without a word one reads there that by the wound then

given when the lance pierced through the strong iron, a gallant spirit

was sent from earth on the long dark journey. What tears were then

shed! How the bride or the young widow wept in inconsolable grief! How

brethren or parents mourned! What ties were broken, what long

cherished hopes all blasted, what bright schemes and glad purposes

then all passed away like a dream!"

Algernon Grey fixed his eyes upon her, while she spoke with a look of

sad and solemn earnestness. It was intense and thoughtful, yet full of

admiration, and lasted till she ceased; but Agnes saw it not, for her

eyes were raised to her uncle's face, and her whole spirit was in the

words she uttered.

"It is the pleasant part of life, I fear," he said at length, "which

thus passes like a dream. The painful things remain--ay, and grow too.

With the bright days pass the bright thoughts; with the light season

flies the light heart. Man has but one summer; if it be clouded, let

him not look for sunshine. Winter will surely come."

"Ay, on this earth," answered Herbert, "there is another climate

hereafter, where winter is not. Still you are in some sense wrong.

Each season has its sunny hours for those who seek them. Youth looks

forward to age with apprehension, age to the state beyond. Neither

know rightly what is in store. All they are sure of is, that there are

deprivations coming of things which they fancy treasures; but still

each step of life shows that the most prized jewels of the former were

but tinsel and false stones. What will the last stage show of all the

rest? That cuirass was young Talbot's, slain in the wars in France;

that gap let in his death-wound. A noble spirit passed away to a

nobler world; a kind young heart mourned, and went to join him. These

are brief tales, soon told. Why should we think more of man's life and

death than of the opening and the fading of a flower? His immortality

itself makes his life the less worth thought, but as he uses it."

"These gauntlets, too," said Algernon Grey, "they seem less ancient

than the cuirass, but yet are not of our own times."

"They are those of a king," answered Herbert; "one whom men

esteem great; but like most of the world's great men, with many

littlenesses--Francis the First of France."

"All that was great in him," replied Algernon Grey, "belonged to the

spirit of a former time. He had a touch of the old chivalrous honour,

and compared with others of his day, with our own Harry, and even with

his more famous rival, the Emperor Charles, he stands out bright as

knight and gentleman, if not as monarch."

"Compare him not with Harry," said Herbert, "that king was a brutal

tyrant. He might have been better, indeed, had not men stupidly

abolished polygamy, for I dare say he would have been contented to let

his wives live, if the laws of society had not made them a burden to

him; and so, like most men, he committed great crimes with a pretext,

to escape from smaller faults less easily excused." He spoke

laughingly, and then added, "But still he was a base, bloody tyrant,

an ungrateful friend, an ungenerous master. No, no, Francis was too

good to be likened to him. No, compare him with the man whose sword

hangs yonder--with Bayard, and then how small the king becomes, how

great the simple gentleman!"

"He was noble, indeed!" exclaimed Agnes; "and it is a consolation,

too, to see that men admire him more for his gentler than his sterner

qualities. Would that they took his lesson more to heart; for of the

great men, as they are called, of this world, how few are there whose

renown does not rise on deeds of blood and rapine, how few whose

monument is not raised on violations of all justice and equity; the

marble their fellow-creatures' corpses, and the mortar ruin,

devastation, wrong, watered with blood and tears."

Algernon Grey gazed upon her again with the same sad and thoughtful

look; and Herbert replied, "Too true, my child; but yet"--and he

smiled somewhat sarcastically--"I have rarely known the lady who did

not love these sanguinary gentlemen more than the humble man of peace.

It is you, and such as you, who spur us on to war."

"War must be, I fear," answered Agnes; "and Heaven forbid that any

gentleman should be a coward, trembling for so light a thing as life;

but if, when driven unwillingly to strife, men would, like that great

hero you have mentioned, soften the rugged trade by the virtues of the

Christian and the knight, protect, defend, support, rather than

oppress, injure, and trample down, the warrior would be worthy of all

love, and great men would become great indeed. As it is, one turns

with horror from the blood-stained page of history, where grasping

ambition rides in the tinsel chariot of a false renown, over the

crunching bones of whole generations slain. The world's greatness is

not for me; and, all woman as I am, dear uncle, I would rather be a

nun, mewed in a cloister, than the wife of one of these great men."

She spoke with a fire and energy which Algernon Grey had never seen in

her before; but some of her words seemed to affect Herbert more than

might have been expected. He walked suddenly back to the table, and

seated himself, leaning his head upon his hand, with a sad and gloomy

look. Agnes paused a moment, and then drew gently near, laid her hand

upon his, kissed his furrowed brow, and murmured, "Forgive me! I did

not mean to pain you; I thought not of what I said."

"It is nothing, it is nothing," answered Herbert; "it will pass, dear

child;" and almost as he spoke, a servant, dressed in a different

livery from that of the court, entered, saying: "The Dowager

Electress, madam, has sent to tell you she is ready when you like to

come."

"I will be with her directly," answered the fair girl; and turning to

Herbert again, she added in a sad tone: "I have given pain enough

here, for one night at least.--Farewell, countryman," she continued

frankly, holding out her soft white hand to Algernon Grey, "I do not

know whether we shall ever meet again; but, methinks, you will

remember this night, so unlike any you have probably ever passed."

Her words were free and unembarrassed; but Algernon Grey had deeper

feelings in his heart, and he merely replied, "I will," at the same

time, however, he bent his head and pressed his lips upon the hand she

gave him. It was a common act of courtesy in those days, marking

nothing but a feeling of friendship or respect; and Agnes, receiving

it as such, drew the light veil, which had fallen upon her shoulders,

over her head, and left the room.

For a single instant Herbert remained seated in the same desponding

attitude. Then rousing himself, he turned to his guest, saying: "Come,

taste the wine again. It is but sour stuff this Rhenish wine at the

best, but this is as good as any."

"It is better than any that I have ever tasted here," answered

Algernon; "and I do not dislike these wines. One does not feel as if

one were drinking molten fire, as with the heady grape of Burgundy,

after which the blood seems to go tingling in fever to the fingers'

ends. One more glass, then, to the health of the fair lady who has

left us."

"Yes, she is fair," answered Herbert, thoughtfully, after drinking his

wine,--"Beautiful as her mother, and as good--more gay, but not less

thoughtful.--Now, my young friend," he continued, "there is one thing

puzzles me in you. That you should think the child lovely does not

surprise me, for she is so: I know it, and am accustomed to hear

others say so; but she sets so little store by her beauty, that it

gives me no pain. There is a difference between admiration and love.

It is evident enough that the blind god has nought to do in the case

between you and her; but yet you have more than once gazed at her

long, and with a sad and serious countenance, as if there were deep

thoughts regarding her silently busy at your heart. If you mind not

telling them, I would fain hear what those thoughts were."

"I caught myself so gazing," said Algernon, with a smile, "not long

before she left the room. It was when she spoke of the horrors and

evils of war; and that theme connected itself in my mind with what had

passed before. I asked myself, if these bright scenes are destined to

be visited by strife and pillage and desolation, what will be the fate

of that young fair being, and many others like her. Hardships and rude

alarms and the daily peril of life is what men are habituated to from

boyhood; but what can woman do at such a season? She can but sit still

and weep, awaiting her destiny, whatever it may be. The clang of the

trumpet, or the roll of the drum, gives her no inspiring occupation to

while away the hours of suspense; and, the rude captor's prey in a

town taken by assault, death, and worse than death, may be her

portion.--Such were the thoughts which moved me on this last occasion.

If I stared at her so rudely at any other time, I have forgotten the

cause."

"It will be long, I trust," answered Herbert, "very long, before the

storm rolls hither, even at the worst; and till it comes, here she is

safe enough. But yet, methinks, good friend, your thoughts take a

gloomy turn, and somewhat strange for the youth of the present day.

With nine men out of ten in every court of Europe--France, England,

Germany--we should have nought but gallant speeches, courtly

discourses of small hands and beautiful feet, and eyebrows

marvellously turned, or lectures upon bravery, what colours suit with

what complexions, what ribands and what laces best harmonize, what

dress becomes the gay and young, the tall, the short--with an

intermixture of sighs and smiles, and some slight touch of roses and

other flowers, to give an Arcadian glow to the whole. But here you

have been as grave as a judge over a long cause which makes his dinner

wait; speaking with all calm solemnity, as if you had never been

taught to laugh.--Why so sad, my friend? Time enough for sadness, when

real sorrow comes."

Algernon Grey's brow became graver than before; not that he looked

hurt, or pained, but there was a sort of stern and serious earnestness

upon his face, as he replied with brief, slow, pointed words: "Most

men have some sad secret in their bosom."

"So young!" said Herbert, musing. "Nay, I think not most men; though

some few may."

"Have not you, yourself?" asked Algernon Grey, fixing his eyes upon

him steadfastly, "and none can say what will be the hour for the

poisoning of all life's streams;" and he paused and fell into thought.

"I knew not that the lady was your niece," he continued after a time;

"nor certainly did I expect to meet her here. I seek not dangerous

companionships; and, methinks, her society might well be so to any one

whose heart is not a stone. However, she is too free and happy, too

tranquil in her thoughts and her soul, to be easily won; and I do

trust, when she is won, that she may meet a person well worthy of

her."

"Oh, she will do well enough," answered Herbert. "Women always choose

ill; but, perhaps, she may not choose at all; and I believe the gross

amount of happiness would be on that side, from all I know of men.--We

are strange beings, Master Grey--boys unto the last, we covet eagerly

each glittering toy we see; and then misuse it, when we have it safe."

These last words gave a different turn to the conversation; and it

wandered wide, and lasted long. Before it came to an end, the trumpets

of the Elector's party were heard in the courtyard; and Herbert smiled

somewhat cynically, but made no observation. Shortly after, the castle

clock struck ten; and Algernon Grey took his leave and returned

towards his inn on foot, pondering upon the character of the man he

had just left, and striving, as we all do when we meet with one unlike

the generality of our acquaintance, to plunge beneath the surface and

discover the hidden things of mind and heart. These reveries were not

so profound, however, as to prevent him from remarking that thick

clouds were driving over the sky, while the stars shone out and

disappeared at intervals, as the grey vapoury veil was cast over them,

or withdrawn. The wind, too, had risen high; and the night was very

different from that which had preceded. When he, at length, reached

the inn, some drops of rain were falling; and his heart felt sadder,

certainly, rather than lighter, from the visit he had paid.

CHAPTER VIII.

It was a night of storms and tempests. As is not unusual in hilly

districts, thunder, as well as rain, was brought up by the gusty wind.

The house, though in the midst of the town, seemed to rock with the

violence of the blast. The pannelling cracked; the arras waved over

the door; the rain poured down in incessant torrents; and when

Algernon Grey looked forth from his window, as he did more than once

during the long night, he beheld the livid lightning flaming along the

streets, reflected as by a mirror from the wet and shining pavement of

the causeway. Quick upon the flash came the pealing thunder, as if one

of the granite mountains had been riven by the bolt of heaven, and

rolled in crashing fragments into the valley below.

It was late ere he retired to rest; and for more than one hour he

continued pacing up and down his chamber in deep thought, reproaching

himself for weakness in having given himself up to fascinations, which

he now found might soon become too strong for all his resolution to

resist. It is a painful moment when a firm and determined mind first

discovers in itself that weakness which is in all human nature, when

it has to accuse itself of having yielded, even in a degree, to

temptations which it had resolved to oppose; when it learns to doubt

its own stability and vigour, and is forced, from experience of the

past, to attach a condition, dependent upon its own strength or

feebleness, to every resolution for the future. It is a painful

moment, a moment of apprehension and dread, of doubt and sorrow; and

Algernon Grey, more than once, said to himself, "No, I will not go

thither again--whether William stays here or not, I will go forward."

He was weary, however, and when he did retire to rest, sleep soon

visited his eyelids; but the form which had troubled his waking

thoughts, visited him with more calming and pleasing influence in his

dreams. Agnes wandered with him, Heaven knows where; no longer

bringing with her hesitation and doubt as to his own course; but

smiling with all her youthful grace unclouded, and spreading sunshine

around her, even to the very depths of his own heart. As so rarely

happens, he remembered his dream, too, when he awoke; and it seemed as

if imagination was but an agent of Fate, to bind him in those bonds

against which he struggled fruitlessly.

It was late ere he unclosed his eyes. The sun was far up in the sky,

but still not showing his face unto the earth; for the storm had sunk

away into dull heavy rain; and the pattering torrents, which fell from

the gutters into the streets, told how heavy was the descending

deluge. Large undefined wreaths of white vapour were wound round the

brows of the hills; and the eye could not penetrate either up or down

the valley beyond a few hundred yards from the spot where the observer

stood.

William Lovet was in an ill humour; for he had engaged himself to ride

again with the court that morning, if the day were fine. But still his

spleen took a merry form; and though his jests were somewhat more

bitter than usual, he jested still. Often did he look at the sky, and

still the same grave blank presented itself till the hour of noon.

Then the expanse grew mottled with slight feathery flakes; the flakes

separated themselves wider and wider from each other, drew into

distinct masses and left the blue sky visible here and there. The sun

shone out over the valley and the plain; but the clouds upon the

higher hills looked only the more black and menacing. However, about

half-past twelve o'clock, a page came down to the inn with a billet

for Master William Lovet, sealed, perfumed, and tied with floss silk

of a rose colour, after the most approved mode of tender epistles of a

period somewhat antecedent. William Lovet took it eagerly; but yet he

could not make up his mind to open it without some slight touches of

his own sarcastic humour. He hung the silk upon his little finger,

held the note up to Algernon Grey with a gay smile, and then carried

it to his nose and to his lips, exclaiming: "Perfumed with sighs, and

flavoured with kisses! Verily, verily, Algernon, you are like an

anchorite at a feast, with delicate dishes and fine wines before you,

and yet you will not taste--But I must read the dear contents. Witness

all ye gods, that I have sworn no constancy. Of all the silly nations

in the world, the Lotophagi were the most foolish; for after baring

once tasted their favourite food, they could relish no other. Now my

unperverted palate can feast on every sweet thing that is offered it."

While he had been uttering the last words, he had cut the silk and

opened the letter; and, having read it through, he turned to his

friend, saying, "The expedition is put off till after dinner; but at

two we set forth. Do you come, Algernon?"

"Not I," answered Algernon Grey; "I have no invitation."

"That will be soon procured," replied Lovet; "but faith, I will not

press you. For the future, you shall follow your own course; for I see

it is all in vain to hope for anything like the fire of youth in you.

I did think, indeed, when I saw you and that lovely Agnes Herbert

together, some spark might be elicited; especially when my fair friend

told me that she is as cold as you are: for you see, Algernon"--and he

laid his finger on his breast, with a laughing look--"by striking

flint and steel, two hard, cold things together, men make a fire--but

now I give you up. Continue to live on in sanctified decorum, and

bring back a virgin heart to England with you. Were you in witty

Venice, the ladies of the place would present you with a coral and

bells."

"And I would give them in return a veil and a pair of gloves,"

answered Algernon Grey.

"Oh, they wear masks," cried Lovet.

"I know they do," said his companion, "and I am not fond of masks."

"Well, well, I must have dinner quick, and ride up to the castle," was

the reply. "Every one to his own course, and happiness of his own kind

to each."

The dinner was obtained. William Lovet equipped himself in his

bravery; and Algernon Grey remained at the inn, pondering over the

rencontre that was before him. To few men, even of the most gallant

and determined, are the hours preceding a meeting of this kind the

most pleasant in life. And, though perhaps no man ever lived who had a

smaller sense of personal danger than Algernon Grey, yet they were

peculiarly painful and disagreeable to him. Bred, like almost every

man of noble family at that time, to arms, he had been in his boyhood

inured to peril and accustomed to look death in the face; but still,

educated with very strict notions in regard to religion, he could not

free his mind from a belief, that to slay a fellow-creature in such an

encounter was a crime. The habits of the day, the general custom of

society, had their effect upon him, as upon all others; but still a

conscientious repugnance lingered in his mind and produced that gloom

which no feeling of apprehension could create. There was no

alleviating circumstance either--there was nothing to excite or to

carry him forward. He had no personal quarrel with his adversary; he

had neither animosity nor anger to stimulate him; and, as I have said,

the intervening hours were very dull and painful. He wrote some

letters and memoranda, however; more to occupy the time than for any

other reason. He ordered his horse to be ready, and the page to

accompany him. He examined his sword-blade, and tried it on the

ground; and at length, when the sun was approaching the horizon on its

decline, he mounted and rode slowly out, with a calm, grave air,

telling his servants to have supper prepared against his return. Not

the slightest suspicion was entertained of his purpose; and the page

rode gaily after, looking round at every thing they passed, and

wondering whither his master was bound.

When they had approached the river, however, it presented a very

different scene from that which had been seen from its banks for

several weeks before. The green Neckar, so clear and glassy, was now a

turbid torrent, red, swollen, and impetuous. The waters had risen in

the course of the day and night several feet, and were dashing against

the piers of the bridge and the walls of the curious old castellated

houses, which then bordered the river, in impotent fury. Many of the

rocks, which in ordinary weather raise their heads high above the

stream, were now either entirely covered, or washed over from time to

time by the waves, which a strong south-west wind occasioned in its

struggle with the angry current of the stream. As the horse of

Algernon Grey set his foot upon the bridge, a heavy rumbling sound

from the east and north, low but distinct, and pealing long among the

hills, told that the dark clouds, which were still seen hanging there,

were pouring forth their mingled lightning and rain into the valleys

of the Odenwald. But the moment that Algernon Grey had passed the

slope of the bridge, he saw before him that which engrossed his whole

attention. The Baron of Oberntraut was waiting for him under the

archway of the opposite bridge-house, although the time appointed had

hardly arrived; and, quickening his pace, the young Englishman rode on

and joined him. Their salutations were perfectly courteous; and

Oberntraut remarked, in a calm indifferent tone, "We are both a little

before our time, I think; but the river is still rising, and this road

by the bank has sometimes enough water on it to wet our horses'

pasterns. With your good leave, I will show you the way. The stream

has not yet come up, I see."

Thus saying, he turned to the right at the foot of the bridge,

ascending the river; but it may be necessary to say that, at the time

I speak of, the right bank of the Neckar presented a very different

aspect from that which it now displays. No houses were to be seen

between Neunheim on the one hand, and the old religious foundation of

Neuburg, now called the Stift, on the other. The road was not elevated

as it is now; but ran low, within a few feet of the ordinary level of

the stream. The woods upon the Heiligberg, or Holy Mountain, and the

other hills towards Neckarsteinach came sweeping down to within a few

feet of the road; and, here and there, a path, large or small,

according to the necessities of the case, led away up to the north,

wherever a village was situated in any of the dells, or a small piece

of level ground, terraced upon the face of the mountain, had afforded

the peasants an opportunity of planting the apple or plum tree. The

vine was not seen, unless it were a small patch in the neighbourhood

of Neunheim, or of the Stift Neuburg.

Along the low horse-road, which served as a towing-path for the boats,

the Baron of Oberntraut led the young English gentleman, at a slow and

quiet pace, till they were within about a third of a mile of the

latter place. There the hills receded a little, leaving some more

level ground, still apparently thickly wooded; and, at a spot, where

stood a boatman's hut, with two or three rude barks, moored to the

shore, the entrance of a by-way was seen, which narrowed within view,

till the space was not larger than would admit the passage of a single

horse. At the entrance of this path the Baron drew in his rein, saying

to his companion: "We will leave the horses and pages here, if you

please, and proceed for a couple of hundred yards on foot."

Algernon Grey consented, of course; and orders were given to the two

youths to lead the horses after their masters, as far as they could up

the path--which, indeed, could not be done for more than three or four

yards--and then to wait there.

"If you will excuse me," continued Oberntraut, "I will precede you."

Algernon Grey merely bowed his head, without reply, till the other had

gone on forty or fifty yards, when he said: "The sun is going rapidly

down, if not gone already behind the hills; and I think if we do not

hurry our pace, we shall not have light."

"Oh, it is the wood makes it so dark here," answered his companion, in

a gay and somewhat self-sufficient tone; "we shall have more light in

an instant; and the twilight lasts long here."

Thus saying he walked forward; and in less than two minutes led the

way out upon a small green meadow, of not more than a quarter of an

acre in extent, the second crop of grass from which had been lately

carried away, leaving the turf smooth and short.

"This place seems made for the purpose," said Algernon Grey, drily.

"It is often used for such," answered Oberntraut, advancing into the

midst, and throwing off his cloak.

Algernon Grey followed his example, drew his sword, and laid the belt

and sheath with the cloak.

"Our weapons are of the usual length, I suppose," said Oberntraut,

speaking through his teeth; for there was more bitterness in his heart

than he wished to appear.

"I really do not know," answered Algernon Grey; "but you had better

measure them;" and he laid his by the side of his adversary's. There

was a considerable difference, however; the English blade was not so

long as the German by at least two inches; and when the Baron observed

it, his cheek flushed and his brow contracted; but his heart was noble

and just, though somewhat impetuous and fierce; and, after a moment's

pause, he said: "I cannot fight you with this disparity; we must put

it off till another day. It is my fault, too; I should have sent you

the measure of my weapon, or asked the length of yours."

"It matters not," answered the young Englishman; "your sword is a

little longer than mine; but my arm is somewhat longer than yours;

thus the difference is made up; and nothing of this kind should ever

be put off for slight punctilios. Besides, my stay in this country

must be short; and I may not have another opportunity of gratifying

you. With thanks, then, for your courtesy, I say we must go forward as

the matter is."

"Well, well," answered Oberntraut; "if such is your opinion, I am

ready."

"We had better move the cloaks out of the way," answered Algernon

Grey; "I see the light will not fail us."

"Oh, no fear of that," said the Baron; "these things do not take

long."

The young Englishman smiled; and, the field having been cleared,

advanced, with ceremonious courtesy, and saluted his adversary.

Oberntraut returned the compliment; and their swords then crossed.

The great school for the use of that weapon with which both gentlemen

were now armed, was, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the

low, fallen land of Italy, where Algernon Grey had passed several

years. In point of strength, the two adversaries were very equally

matched; for, though the young Englishman was somewhat taller and more

supple, yet Oberntraut was several years older, and had acquired that

firmness and vigour of muscle, which is obtained long enough before

any portion of activity is lost. The latter was also very skilful in

the use of his arms; but here Algernon Grey, from the schools in which

he had studied, was undoubtedly superior. He was also superior in

perfect coolness. There was no angry passion in his breast, no haste,

no impetuosity. He came there to defend himself, to oppose an

adversary, but neither eager nor fearful. He felt as if he were in a

hall of arms with baited weapons, merely trying his skill. He was

anxious to disarm his opponent, not to hurt him; and in the first

three passes Oberntraut was taught that he was pitted against a

complete master of the rapier. At first this discovery served to make

him more cautious; and he used all his skill; but it was all in vain.

He could not approach his adversary's breast; wherever his point

turned, the blade of Algernon Grey met it; and more than once the

Baron felt that he had laid himself open to the riposte, but that,

from some cause, his adversary had not seized the opportunity.

Repeated disappointments, however, rendered him irritable and

incautious. He watched, indeed, his opponent's defence, thinking to

learn what he called the trick, and overcome it by another sort of

attack; but, whenever he changed his mode, Algernon met it with a

different parry; and the clashing sword passed innocuous by his

shoulder or his hip.

The light began to wane perceptibly, and as cool and perhaps cooler

than when he began, the young Englishman recollected his adversary's

words, and thought, "These things take longer than you imagined, my

good friend, with a man who knows what he is about."

A slight smile curled his lip, at the same time; and thinking that he

was mocking him, Oberntraut renewed the attack with tenfold fury.

Algernon Grey gave a momentary glance to the sky; the rose had died

away from above; heavy clouds were driving over in detached masses; a

drop of rain fell upon his hand; and he saw that, in two or three

minutes, the air would become quite dark.

"I must wound him," said he to himself, "or in this dull twilight I

shall get hurt; he is too keen to be disarmed; I must wound him, but

slightly."

At the same moment Oberntraut made a furious pass; the young

Englishman parried the lunge, but, though his adversary's breast was

left unguarded, his heart smote him, and he would not return it, lest

he should touch some vital part. The Baron pressed him close with pass

after pass; and step by step the young Englishman retreated. Then

suddenly changing his mode, Algernon assumed the attack, drove his

adversary before him in good guard, and then, in the Italian manner,

took a bound back and stood in defence. Oberntraut, following the

method, of which he had some knowledge, sprang forward and lunged.

Algernon parried and returned; but at the same moment the Baron's foot

slipped on the wet grass, the sword's point caught him on the right

breast close to the collar-bone, and passed out behind the shoulder.

He staggered up, raised his weapon, let it fall, and sank slowly on

the ground.

However cool and self-possessed a man may be--though he may think

himself fully justified in what he has done, though he may have been

acting in self-defence, though the act may have been inevitable--yet

no one can inflict a real and serious injury upon another without

feeling a certain degree of regret, if not remorse, unless his heart

be as hard as adamant. It is at such moments that the strange link of

consanguinity which binds the whole human race together is first known

to us; it is then that we feel we are brothers, and that we have

raised a hand against a brother's life.

The moment that the deed was done--and it was evidently more than he

had intended to do--Algernon Grey felt a pang shoot through his heart,

and he said internally: "Would that he had not driven me to it, would

that he had not provoked it!" but, casting down his sword at once, he

knelt by Oberntraut's side, and, raising his head and shoulders on his

knee, exclaimed in kindly and eager tones: "I hope you are not much

hurt!"

"A little faint," said Oberntraut, slowly; "not much--I shall be

better presently, and able to go on."

"Nonsense, nonsense!" exclaimed Algernon Grey, vehemently, "to go on

in combat against a man with whom you have no quarrel, who has never

injured, insulted, or offended you, who was friendly disposed towards

you? My good friend, I will draw the sword against you no more; I have

had enough of it."

"Methinks, so have I," said Oberntraut, faintly, with a light smile

passing over his face. "You are a master of the science;--that pass

was splendid."

"It was the turf!" cried Algernon Grey; "had you not slipped, I should

have hardly touched you."

Oberntraut pressed his hand, saying, "If you could stop the

bleeding--it is soaking through all my doublet;--you had better call

the page."

"I will try to staunch the blood first," answered Algernon Grey; "no

time is to be lost--five minutes more and we shall not see the wound;"

and, opening the vest and shirt of his opponent, which were now both

drenched in blood, he tore his handkerchief in two, making each half

into a sort of compress, as he had often before seen the surgeons do,

when hurried on the field of battle. He fixed one on the wound before,

the other on the aperture behind the shoulder, and with the Baron's

scarf and his own, bound them tightly down, stopping the flow of

blood, at least in a degree. Then, after gazing at him for a moment or

two, he said, "I will leave you only during an instant, and send the

page for a litter or something to bear you to the town."

"No, no," answered his former adversary; "send up to the Stift

Neuburg, they will take me in and tend me well. Then a surgeon can be

brought;--but remember, whatever happens, this is not your fault; it

was my own seeking--my own doing,--no one is to be blamed but myself.

Methinks the bleeding has stopped."

Algernon Grey hurried away, found the path without difficulty, and ran

down towards the road; but the moment his own page saw him coming, he

threw the reins of the horses to the other and sprang to meet his

master, exclaiming, "Away, my lord, away, or you will not be able to

pass. The river is rising rapidly; the water is already upon the

road."

"Mind not me," exclaimed Algernon Grey, "but hasten with all speed up

to the building there upon the left. Fly, boy, fly! and give notice

that there is a gentleman lying wounded in the wood. Beg the people to

send down bearers instantly to carry him up thither."

The boy gazed at him with a look of surprise and consternation, and

seemed about to ask some question, when Algernon Grey exclaimed,

"Away! inquire nothing; his life depends upon your speed."

The page instantly darted off to execute the commission, when suddenly

a sound was heard as of the feet of many horses coming at a rapid pace

round the wood and the rocks beyond. The boy paused and drew back for

an instant; and a part of the splendid train of the Elector and his

Princess swept along, with their horses' hoofs splashing in the water,

which was now two or three inches deep on that part of the road. The

boy then ran on, and Algernon Grey advanced a step or two to catch

some stragglers of the party and bid them send a surgeon quickly from

the town; but, ere he reached the broad road, two or three cavaliers

dashed past like lightning, without noticing him; and the next instant

a shrill piercing shriek broke upon his ear.

CHAPTER IX.

The court of the Elector, Frederic the Fifth, was, as I have in some

degree shown, one of the gayest as well as one of the most splendid in

Europe. Nay, the merriment and revelry that reigned therein, puzzled

the stern Calvinistic ministers not a little, how to excuse a degree

of levity in the Prince and Princess, which they undoubtedly thought

most unbecoming in the heads of the severe Puritanical party in

Germany. They would have censured and interfered, beyond all doubt, if

they had dared; but the ministers of a sect whose religious teachers

have little real power beyond that which the fanaticism of their

disciples affords, are rather apt to grow sycophantish in the case of

great personages, whose countenance and protection are necessary to

the support of their authority, if not to their existence. It thus

happened, that Scultetus and his brethren, as the good man's own

writings show, were exceedingly lenient to the amiable lightness of

the Elector, and contented themselves with very severe and menacing

sermons before the court, while they seized every opportunity of

apologizing for the gaiety of the prince and his consort, on the score

of youth, prosperity, and habit.

Thus day after day, some new party of pleasure, some sport, some

revel--interrupted only by occasional wild bursts of fanaticism, which

had their interest and excitement also--kept up the thoughtless

spirits of the court of the Palatinate, and sometimes afforded

opportunity for pursuits not quite so innocent.

On the evening of which we have just been speaking, a large party,

though somewhat less in number than that of the preceding day, issued

forth from the gates of the castle, crossed the bridge and took its

way along the same road which was afterwards pursued by Algernon Grey

and the Baron of Oberntraut. I will not pause to describe the

amusements of the afternoon, nor to tell how the cavalcade was led

through paths and by-ways which had seldom seen ought so gay before.

Schönau, which they had visited on the preceding day, was merely

passed through, to the renewed admiration of the good peasants; and

then by a narrow road, which naturally separated the party into pairs,

the glittering troop reached a little village with a curious

contradictory name, called Alt Neudorf, or Old New Town. The look of

the village seemed somewhat desolate to the eyes even of the fair

Electress, who was naturally inclined to any wild expedition; but the

whole party were soon agreeably surprised to find a house and garden

in the midst of the place, decked out with flags and banners and

pieces of tapestry, as if for their reception, while well known

servants of the court appeared at the doors, in quaint dresses, to

receive the princely personages, and a rich collation of cold meats,

fine wines and fruits, was spread in a large room hung like a royal

tent and carpeted with dry moss.

During the ride thither, William Lovet had maintained his place by the

side of the fair Countess of Laussitz; but he seemed in a less

cheerful and amiable humour than the day before; and directing her

eyes by his own towards the person of a lady who rode near, he said,

as they approached the village:--

"You told me she would not be here."

"Why what difference does her presence or absence make to you,

servant?" asked the countess; "do you hate her so that you cannot bear

her sight? You are as dull and sullen as if you had been crossed in

love by her."

Lovet saw that he had shown his ill-humour too far, and replied, with

a more smiling air, "I thought women were better politicians, Beauty.

Can you not divine why I am vexed? It is not that I am displeased to

have her here, but not to have her somewhere else. On my good cousin's

stay in this country depends my own by your fair side; for I have

sworn to keep him company for a year. If he goes I must go, and how

could I live without you for twelve months?"

"But what has that to do with Agnes Herbert?" asked the lady.

"What! were those bright eyes only made to pierce my heart and not to

see?" cried Lovet. "Have you not perceived that love caught him by the

hand that very first night; and now he is struggling to free himself.

Had she remained behind, he would have seen her, as he did last night;

and another link would have been added to the chain which keeps him

here, and me at your small feet. You must help me, bright one, to

rivet this young girl's chain around his neck. I, too, must find a

moment during our ride today to prompt her, even at the loss of some

part of my sunshine."

In the train of the Elector there were more persons than William Lovet

not altogether contented with the events of the day. Critical moments

were approaching, when decision was necessary, and when each decision,

even upon a small and apparently trifling point, might influence the

destinies not only of the Palatinate, but of the whole of Germany;

and, more remotely, of the whole world. There were some men at the

court of the Elector who took this wider and more comprehensive view,

and were anxious to see all his acts well weighed, and his whole

thoughts directed to the consideration of questions so great in

magnitude. At the same time there were others of a narrower scope, who

were anxious to fix his opinions in favour of that party to which they

belonged, or of that particular course which their party advocated.

The levity and revelry of the court, of course, interfered with the

purposes of each; and, on the present occasion, two or three of the

young sovereign's counsellors, frustrated in former efforts to obtain

his ear, had followed the cavalcade in the hope that some opportunity

would occur of enforcing each his separate opinion. The two most

influential persons present, as politicians, were the celebrated Louis

Camerarius and the Viscount Achates de Dohna, lately the Electoral

Ambassador at Prague.[2] Very different, indeed, were the two men, and

very different their views; but, without attempting to paint the

characters of each, it may only be necessary to say that, upon this

occasion, Camerarius sought eagerly to keep the ear of the Elector

entirely to himself, filling it with flattering prospects of greatness

to come; while Dohna only endeavoured, from time to time, to place

before the eyes of his master, by a few brief words, the dangers and

difficulties of an undertaking, to which his more flattering or more

interested courtiers were hurrying him too eagerly forward.

It was not till the collation was over, nor even till the party had

passed through the small village of Ziegelhausen, that either the one

or the other found any opportunity of advancing his particular

notions. Then, however, on the narrow way, which varied in width at

different places, the Elector rode a few steps in advance, calling

Camerarius to his side; while the Princess Elizabeth, with some ladies

and gentlemen, followed, having Dohna on her left hand, between her

and the river. The pace at which they proceeded was at first slow; and

the wind, as I have said, blew strong up the turbulent stream. Thus,

when the prince and his counsellor raised their voices, the sound was

distinctly carried to the party behind. Once or twice, just as they

quitted Ziegelhausen, the horse of Dohna was seen to prance and

curvet, as if either it or its rider had become suddenly impatient;

and at length the voice of Camerarius was heard by the whole group

round the Princess, saying, "They cannot pretend that your Highness

had any hand in it. The whole affair is of Bohemian manufacture."

Dohna struck his horse sharply with the spur, was in an instant by the

prince's side, and answered aloud, "So is the gold chain round your

neck, Counsellor Camerarius."

Then, reining in his horse, he fell back to the side of the Electress,

leaving Camerarius a little confused. The latter was too old a

courtier, however, to suffer his anger and shame to be apparent; and

merely saying, "The viscount seems angry this evening," he went on

with his flowery discourse.

"Should such a choice be made," he said, "it can but be looked upon as

the call of Heaven. That a mixed population of different creeds and

sentiments should unite in placing on their throne a prince, not only

strong by his own power and his high qualities, but who is also the

head and main stay of the great Protestant Union of Germany, must be

the result of some supreme directing power, superior to the mere

wisdom of man."

Dohna was at the prince's side again in an instant. "How long will the

Union last united?" he said; "has it ever been united? Has it ever

acted in harmony? Throw that out of the calculation, except as an

element of discord."

Camerarius gave him a furious look, the Elector was silent, and Dohna

let them again pass on, resuming his conversation with the Electress.

The next words that were heard were from the mouth of Frederic; though

several sentences had been spoken in the mean while, which did not

reach the ears of those behind.

"They are, indeed, a determined race," he said; "ready to shed their

best blood, rather than submit to the tyranny of the Roman church."

"They have shown themselves, for ages, your Highness," answered

Camerarius, "resolute and vigorous in support of any cause they

undertake."

Dohna spurred forward again: "I know them better than any one," he

exclaimed, "and I will not conceal that, though they are headstrong

and obstinate, fierce and passionate, they are ready to abandon any

leader on the first grievance, and refuse him all vigorous support,

unless he square his conscience to their prejudices."

This time he did not seem disposed to withdraw; for the road was

wider; and Camerarius, trusting he had produced some effect, was

unwilling to pursue the subject farther, in the presence of such an

opponent. They were now passing the Stift Neuburg, and, casting his

eyes forward, he exclaimed, "We had better hurry our pace, my lord;

the water there seems rising rapidly over the road."

"Quick, quick!" cried Frederic, shouting to those behind; "spur on, or

we shall be cut off by the river."

A couple of hundred yards farther, the road was found covered with the

water; and the Elector suddenly drew in his horse with an air of

hesitation.

"Is that the spirit to win, or keep a crown?" murmured Dohna to

himself; and, striking his spurs into his horse's side, he exclaimed

aloud, "This way, your Highness, this way! I will show you the path.

The water is not two inches deep;" and, riding hastily on, he soon

reached a spot where the causeway rose again above the level to which

the river had risen. Those who were immediately behind, followed at

once; and, though the whole of the electoral party had separated into

distinct groups, another and another passed without fear or danger.

We must turn, however, here, to the last personages of the cavalcade,

and follow them from Ziegelhausen.

In that village Agnes Herbert had lingered behind; for her horse had

fallen lame; and she had called one of the attendants of the court to

examine the beast's foot, when she suddenly found an English

gentleman, William Lovet, by her side. As soon as he perceived what

was the matter, he sprang to the ground, and before the attendant

could interfere had examined the horse's hoof, and extracted a stone

which had fixed itself firmly between the frog and and the shoe; then

remounting, with a bound, he said, with a graceful inclination of the

head, "That is soon remedied. He will go well now; but do not hurry

him."

Agnes went on; and Lovet kept close to her side, saying, "I am

mistaken, or I have had the honour of seeing you before. My noble

cousin Algernon was your prisoner during a night of sweet captivity."

Agnes bowed her head, answering, "I was obliged to obey the electress,

even in a jest."

"I will not tell him," replied William Lovet, with a smile, "that you

consented only from duty."

"His demeanour made the duty a pleasure," answered Alice.

"Ah, well may you say so," said Lovet, looking down thoughtfully; "he

is a great winner of good opinions. Most men gain upon others by

concealing all that is evil within them, Algernon by showing all that

is in his heart, having nothing that is not noble to conceal;" and

then, merely to break the discourse for a time, he pointed down the

valley, saying, "What a beautiful scene this is! I know not whether it

be more splendid, as when I saw it first, sleeping calmly in the

evening sunshine, with the Neckar as placid and clear as a lake, or

now, with yon red and stormy sky, fading away into the night, and the

tempestuous waters of the river below, foaming and fretting among the

rocks and shallows."

"The Neckar is terribly swollen," replied the fair girl; "I never

recollect to have seen it such a torrent, except in winter;" and,

gazing down the dark mass of rushing waters, all turbid and confused,

whirling in eddies near, and dashing fiercely over the dark rock

beyond, a feeling almost of awe crept over her.

"It is very fine, indeed," rejoined Lovet; "and I can appreciate it

better now than I could some time ago; for the society of my cousin

has taught me to look upon the beauties of nature with a different and

more marking eye than heretofore. There seems a grand harmony between

his heart and everything that is lovely--except, indeed," he added,

"the loveliness of your sex, fair lady; for I never knew him, that I

remember, bestow ten words, even upon the fairest of them, in my

life."

Agnes thought--"He has bestowed more on me;" but she did not reply:

and William Lovet continued,--

"Not that he is a woman-hater," he said, "for he is courteous and kind

to all; but, on the contrary, I believe he has formed so high an

estimate of woman's excellence, that he never finds his fancy

fulfilled."

"If excellence is like other rare things," answered Agnes, "methinks

it would take more than ten words to draw it forth."

"Ay, but he is very quick in his judgment," said her companion. "He,

like many another man, imagines that nature has written much upon the

countenance, that she tells much in the voice and manner; and that,

unless both be well tutored by long experience, a keen observer will

read the book aright, and know much of the contents from the first

page.--I have seldom known him wrong, I must confess."

"Such keen-sightedness may, perchance, be a dangerous quality," the

lady replied; "I mean, even for his own peace."

"Oh, no, he is ever on his guard," replied Lovet, in a frank tone; "he

never spends any time on one whom he does not think worthy of esteem;

but, with a courteous nothing, some filigree words of _haut-pas_

commonplace, meant to cover very little reverence, retires into

himself again."

Agnes ran rapidly over in her own mind all that had passed between her

and Algernon Grey, and asked herself, "Has he done so with me?" The

answer was evident; and she would fain have fallen into thought; but

she did not wish to show, or to admit even to herself, that the matter

was one worthy of much meditation; and she inquired almost

immediately, "Does he deal thus with men?"

"Oh dear, no," answered Lovet; "there, knowing that he is safe, all

the fine fancies of his mind, and all the generous feelings of his

heart, become apparent. It were worth your while to overhear him pour

forth, in words of impassioned eloquence, sentiments that are worthy

of a better age than ours. You would find him a very different being

from what he has seemed. You must not think him, indeed, a cold and

formal egotist, wrapped up in the contemplation of his own fancied

excellence. I know, with women, this is often his character, though

his person and his manners have great captivation for them too."

Agnes replied not; but looked forward on the road before, saying, "It

is growing very dark, we had better ride on faster. My horse goes

easily now;" and, shaking the rein, she put her jennet into a quick

canter. In a moment after, a boy, dressed as a page, ran out from the

wood, and, catching the rein of Lovet's horse, exclaimed, "Oh, sir,

help here; there is a gentleman badly hurt--dying, I am afraid."

"Is it your master?" demanded Lovet, reining in his horse; while Agnes

paused, listening with eager ears beside him.

"No, no," answered the boy; "it is the other gentleman."

"Then the other gentleman must take care of himself," answered Lovet.

"Let go the rein, boy," he continued, in a sharp tone; "the stream is

rising fast. Come on, come on, fair lady, or in this increasing

darkness we shall get into mischief--come on, come on!" and he dashed

forward along the path.

Agnes paused for an instant, and then exclaimed, "Run up to that large

building, my good boy; they will give you speedy help."

Then, seeing the danger of farther delay, she struck the jennet with

the whip, and the beast darted on through the water upon the path.

Lovet was now some thirty or forty yards in advance, and she saw his

horse swerve away from some object in the wood near the boat-house. He

kept him steady with the spur, however; and Agnes, as she came to the

same spot, turned her head to see what had alarmed the beast. She just

caught sight of some horses and a page gathered together in an opening

of the road; but at that moment her jennet shied violently away at the

unexpected sight. She tried to keep his head forward with the rein,

but the beast reared and struggled against it; his feet passed the

limit of the road; and, in a moment, horse and rider plunged over into

the midst of the rushing stream.

A loud and piercing shriek rang upon the air; Lovet turned his head

and looked. Then, muttering between his teeth, "Ha! we must find

another," he dashed on till he reached a spot where the road was free

of water.

At the same moment, however, that the heartless exclamation passed his

lips, the tall, powerful form of Algernon Grey appeared from the wood.

The young cavalier cast a rapid glance over the dark and foaming

surface of the stream. He saw a horse's head and neck rise above the

water, and a woman's form, still keeping the seat, but evidently with

a great effort, holding fast by the mane and the saddle. Another loud

scream met his ear, and, with the rapid calculation of a quick, clear

mind, he darted to the spot where the rude barks were moored, sprang

into the first he could reach, cast it loose, and, with a vigorous

effort, pushed it forth into the stream.

In the mean time, the horse, with the instinct of self-preservation,

turned itself in the struggling waters and endeavoured to breast the

current, striking violently with its fore feet to keep its head above

the torrent, and rolling fearfully under its fair burden. Agnes still

clung to it, uttering shriek after shriek; but, whirled round by the

eddies, in spite of all its efforts the animal was carried further

down. A black looking rock still raised its round head partly above

the waves; and as they were carried near, though the strength both of

rider and beast was failing, the poor animal, by a violent effort, got

its fore feet upon the rock, straining to clamber up. The attempt was

fatal to the jennet: the water by the side was deep: there was no hold

for its hind feet: the fore feet slipped; and back it rolled into the

overwhelming torrent.

With heart failing and strength gone, Agnes loosed her hold and

addressed one brief prayer to Heaven. But at that moment, a strong arm

was thrown round her, and she felt herself dragged out of the water

into something which yielded and swayed under the pressure of her

weight. She saw the struggling agonies of the horse; she saw a human

figure, and a boat half sinking with the water which had poured into

it as it heeled in receiving her; and then, with her brain whirling

and her heart sick, she closed her eyes and pressed her fingers upon

them.

At the same moment a hand grasped hers warmly, and a voice she knew,

said: "You are safe, you are safe! God's name be praised!"

CHAPTER X.

Agnes Herbert left her hand in that of her deliverer. For more than a

minute she made no reply; she asked no question. The voice was enough;

she knew who it was that had saved her. But she knew not as yet the

perils which still hung over both him and her. At length he let go her

hand; and she heard a noise in the frail skiff, which made her

instantly open her eyes. Then it was she perceived the full danger of

their actual situation. Even in the grey twilight she could see that

the edge of the small boat was within an inch of the surface of the

boiling stream, that the bark itself was half full of water, while

Algernon Grey was busily employed in baling it out with his hands, as

the only means he had of freeing it even in a degree.

"Oh, thank you, thank you;" she cried; "for how much have I to be

grateful!"

"Speak not of that, sweet lady," answered the young Englishman; "but

for pity's sake, watch every thing with a keen eye as we are carried

down the stream; for I cannot--dare not even attempt to reach the

land. Tell me the moment you perceive a rock; for, with all this water

in the boat, the least touch would sink us."

"Here, take my velvet cap," cried Agnes, "it is better than nothing;"

but, ere Algernon Grey could use it twice to bale out a part of the

water, his fair companion cried: "A rock, a rock!--There, on the

right!" and Algernon, rising cautiously, took the short pole, which

was the only implement the boat contained, and watched eagerly in the

bow, till they neared a spot where one of the rude masses of granite

still held its head above the current which dashed and whirled around

it. Then lightly touching it with the pole he kept the boat off in

deeper water; and in another instant, scarcely able to keep his feet,

found himself whirled round in the vortex, formed by the impeded

torrent the moment it was free.

Oh, what a terrible period was the passage down that stream. At

each instant some new danger beset them--now the rocks--now the

shallows--now the rapids--now the eddies: no means of approaching the

shore; and reasonable doubts, that any effort to do so would not lead

to immediate destruction! The sky became darker and darker every

moment; and, though by the aid of Agnes, afforded to the best of her

power, a considerable portion of the water in the bark was cast back

into the stream, still the fragile lightness of the skiff, and the

depth to which it had sunk, rendered it little probable that those it

contained would ever reach the land in safety. The close falling

night, the roaring of the torrent, the howling of the wind blowing

strong against them, the agitated surface of the stream, now tossing

them to and fro, now whirling them round and round, might well have

daunted a strong heart inured to peril, much more that of Agnes

Herbert. Algernon Grey felt for her terror, as well as for her danger;

and ever and anon he said: "Let us trust in God, dear lady!--Fear not,

fear not! There is a stronger arm than mine to protect you.--It is now

that faith in Heaven is a comfort indeed."

But still, with eager eye, and steady nerve, and skilful hand, he

watched and guided as well as he could, the boat along the troubled

surface of the river.

Night fell; not a star was to be seen; the clouds swept thick and dark

over the sky; but still, from time to time, a momentary light was

afforded by a broad sheet of summer lightning, which for an instant

cast a blue glare through the valley of the Neckar. The mountains were

seen and lost; the rocks, the trees, the woods stood out and

disappeared like phantoms in a dream; and at length, walls and towers

became, for one brief moment, visible; and then all was black again.

"We must be near the bridge," said Agnes; "do you not hear the water

rushing more fiercely? Heaven help us now! for, if we strike against

the piers, we are lost."

"Sit quiet there," answered Algernon; "I will go into the bow; and be

assured, dear lady, I will live or die with you. Only remember, if I

am forced to swim, lie quiet on my arm; for, if you clasp me, we both

sink."

"I will not stir," she said in a firm tone; and Algernon Grey went

carefully forward.

He heard the roar of the river, evidently dashing in fury against some

obstruction; and then he thought he caught the tones of human voices

speaking above. Then came a broad sheet of lightning; and he saw the

bridge, with its manifold arches and its towered gates close at hand.

He had but time to stretch forth his arm, and, with a violent effort,

keep the boat from the pier, when it shot in fury through the vault,

and issued forth at the other side.

"We have to thank God again," he said, regaining his balance, which he

had nearly lost; "that danger is passed; and, if I remember right, the

stream is clearer below."

"Much, much," said Agnes. "The rocks cease as soon as the mountains

fall away; but there are many sand-banks."

"We must watch still," replied her companion, "but the stream seems

already less rapid."

The fearful rushing sound of the swollen Neckar diminished shortly

after they had passed the bridge. They could even hear, or fancied

that they heard, the hum of human voices from within the town. Lights

were seen in various windows, and cheerful images of happy life came

thick before their eyes, as they were hurried on, along the course of

that dark headlong stream, with many a peril still before them.

"That must be the boat-house at Neunheim," said Agnes, at length,

after a long silent pause; "they have got a fire there, though the

night is so sultry."

"They must be caulking their boats, I think," replied Algernon; "and

from the distance of the fire I should judge we are in the mid-stream.

I will call to them as we pass--perchance they may hear and help us."

A moment or two after he raised his voice and shouted aloud; but no

one answered--no form darkened the light in the hut, as if one of the

inhabitants had come out to see who called. Rapidly the boat hurried

past, and all was silence. The river was less turbulent, but seemed

hardly less swift; the noise subsided to a low whispering murmur, as

the tide poured through the widening banks; and faintly marked

objects--willow, and shrub, and decayed oak, which were hardly

distinguishable from the banks or the sky--seemed to move away with

the speed of lightning.

At the end of about half an hour, during which the two had not raised

their voices above a whisper, Agnes said aloud, "There is a star!

There is a star! The sky must be clearing. Do you not think it is

lighter already?"

"Assuredly, dear lady," replied Algernon Grey, "the moon must soon

rise; last night she was up by this time. See, there is a glow upon

the clouds round what seems a hill-top there to the right."

"It is the Heiligberg," answered Agnes. "I have seen a gleam like that

when the moon was coming up in the east. Oh! Heaven send that she may

disperse the clouds and give us light."

Algernon Grey turned his eyes to the sky, and he found cause to hope.

The clouds were breaking fast; the stars gleamed faintly out here and

there; and the edges of the vapoury fragments looked white and fleecy.

Alice gazed in the same direction; and for five minutes both were

silent. Then the boat grated heavily with a sudden shock, and stood

fast in the midst of the stream. The two voyagers were nearly thrown

down by the concussion, but Algernon exclaimed, "Fear not! fear not!

We are on a bank, but no harm can happen; the water must be very

shallow here. Let us sit calm till the moon rises; she must be even

now just behind those hills. It is growing lighter every moment."

He was right in his judgment; and in less than ten minutes the sky was

clear or nearly clear of clouds. The moon, indeed, could not yet be

seen; but her pale silvery light spread over the whole heavens; and

everything around, to the eyes so long accustomed to utter darkness,

appeared to stand out as if in the broad beams of day. Upon the left,

the bank seemed somewhat steep and rugged, and no landing-place could

be discerned; but to the right was a piece of low sedgy ground, which

the young Englishman doubted not was partially overflowed by the

swollen stream.

"Do you know where we are, dear lady?" he asked; "I can see neither

house nor village."

"I cannot tell," answered Agnes. "I should think we must have passed

Edingen by the time which has elapsed. Do you not think we could reach

the land? Oh, let us try; for wherever it is, we shall be better there

than on the bosom of this dreadful river."

Algernon Grey smiled upon her with that warm heart-springing look we

only can give to those we have cherished or protected. "It is only

dreadful now, this same fair Neckar," he said, "because we came too

near it in an angry mood. To-morrow it will be as calm and sweet as

yesterday."

"And would be so," answered Agnes, "if it flowed over our graves. It

will ever be dreadful to me, from this night forth."

"Not so to me," replied her companion, "for it has afforded me a great

happiness. But I will try to push the boat off the bank and guide it

to yonder low ground on the right. Little will do it, if we can once

get afloat again."

His efforts were not in vain, though it required all his strength to

force the little skiff from the firm bed into which the rapid current

of the stream had carried it. As soon as it was free, however, he

perceived an increase of the water in the bark; and, judging rightly,

that the sudden shock upon the shoal had seriously damaged it, he saw

that not an instant was to be lost. Resting the end of the pole upon

the sand-bank, as the boat swung round, he gave it a vehement impulse

towards the shore. It drifted on with the current, but took an oblique

direction, which Algernon Grey aided, using the boat-pole as a feeble

sort of rudder; but still the river was deep and swift, the bank some

yards distant, and the water in the bark gaining fast.

"The boat seems sinking," said Agnes, in a low, sad tone.

"Fear not! fear not!" replied her companion, cheerfully; "in a quiet

stream, such as this is here, I could swim with you three times across

without risk. But we are nearing the bank!" and, sounding the water

with the pole, he found the bed of the river, and pushed the boat to

shore just as she was settling down.

It was a low swampy piece of ground that they touched, covered with

long sedge and bulrushes growing upon overflowed land. Algernon Grey

sprang out at once, and finding water still up to his knees, he leaned

over into the boat, and took his sweet companion in his arms.

"I must carry you for a little way," he said, "and now we may, indeed,

thank God with our whole heart for a great deliverance. You shall walk

as soon as we reach dry ground, dear lady, for you are wet, and I fear

must be cold."

"Oh, no," she answered, "either terror or the sultry air has kept me

warm enough. But how can I ever thank you for all you have done."

She lay in his arms: her heart beat against his; her breath fanned his

cheek when she spoke. What were the feelings of Algernon Grey at that

moment? He would not ask himself; and he was wise. He gave up his

whole thoughts to her, to cheer, to soothe, to protect her, to remove

from her mind not only the impression of the past peril, but also all

feeling of the embarrassment and difficulty of her actual situation,

left to wander, neither well knew whither, with a man, a young man

whom she had known but a few days, in the darkness and solitude of

night.

He felt his load light and his burden a pleasant one, it is true, as

he bore her on for more than a hundred yards through the marsh. He

would have willingly had her lie there far longer--perhaps for life;

but still as soon as they came upon the dry sandy ground, he set her

gently down and drew her arm through his.

"Now, sweet comrade," he said, gaily, "we must fight our way to some

village where you can find rest for the night. Do you not feel weary?

Terror is a sad sapper of human strength."

"Not so tired, perhaps, as I might expect to be," answered Agnes,

"considering that I had a long ride before this terrible event took

place.--Alas, my poor jennet, that bore me so often and so well, I

shall never see you more!--Yet I am wrong to speak so: my whole

thoughts should be gratitude."

"We have both much cause for thankfulness," replied Algernon, "and

see, dear lady, the beautiful moon, to guide us on our way, is rising

over the hill, half hidden by the woods, half seen through the tree

tops. How quickly she wanders on along her blue way. But we must take

a lesson from her, and speed forward likewise. What path shall I

choose? for I have no knowledge of this land."

"And I very little of this part," said the lady; "but one thing is

clear; by bending our course towards the hills again, we shall at all

events approach the town."

"That must be far," answered her companion, "and those small limbs of

yours will hardly bear you thither to-night; but let us to the right

at all events; as likely to find a resting-place there as on any other

path;" and bidding her rest upon his arm for support, he led her on.

Theirs was a strange ramble through the wide fields and plains that

stretch out between the foot of the Bergstrasse and the Rhine; and yet

not without deep interest to both. Each had at heart feelings of many

a varied character sufficient to fill up long hours of dull life, and

each was disinclined to dwell upon the most thrilling emotions of all;

but yet,--however they might fly to other subjects, how anxiously

soever they might strive to withhold their thoughts from anything that

might agitate or overpower,--still those emotions presented themselves

in vague and indistinct forms, mingling with thought, seizing hold

upon fancy, and giving a tone and colour to all that was said, without

either of them being aware that they deviated from the ordinary course

of conversation between persons of their birth and station. The scene,

too, and the season, the hour, the atmosphere, the circumstances, the

events that had lately taken place, the prospects of the future in

their very indefinite obscurity, all had an influence, and seemed to

combine to nourish a growing passion in their hearts. The moon rose

bright from behind the trees upon the mountain tops, shining like the

bright pure vision of young and innocent love. The clouds, which at

the outset of their stormy and perilous course had swept like the

evils of life over the whole sky, had now vanished as if by magic,

leaving but here and there a fragment whirling upon the wind, to

obscure the twinkling stars with its light veil. In the south-west,

some half way up the heaven, shone a lustrous planet, beaming calm,

steadfast, serene, like the undying light of hope; and, while opposite

stretched in grand masses the hill-slopes of the Bergstrasse, beneath

that star appeared the wavy outline of the Haardt mountains, still

coloured with a purple hue, as if the rays of the departed sun had not

yet entirely left them. Above, and to the south and east, all was

bright and silvery with the light of the risen moon. The stars

themselves were there extinguished in the flood of splendour; but on

the borders of the sky the twinkly lights of night looked out, like

gems on the robe of their queen; and, from time to time, a bright

meteor crossed the expanse, bursting from space, and dying ere it

reached the earth, like the light thoughts of many a great mind, which

perish in the brain that gives them birth.

The air was warm, and yet stirred by a strong breeze. There was a

certain languor in it, a love-like, luxurious softness, disposing to

gentle thoughtfulness; and a sweet perfume rose up from some of the

shrubs of the field, mingling harmoniously with that bland air, and

rendering its softening powers still greater. Over the wide plain

which they traversed, the moon's beams fell bright, but not clear; for

a thin vapour, too light to obstruct the view, and only serving to

diffuse and generalize the light, rose up from the drenched fields in

the warm air.

Rescued from death, and brought safely through innumerable perils by

him on whose arm she leaned, the heart of Agnes Herbert might well

dwell fondly on the thought of one whose words, whose manners, and

whose look had before captivated her fancy, if not touched her heart.

All the terrors she had felt, all the dangers she had passed, all the

services he had rendered, all the kindness and tenderness he had shown

that night, mingled strangely in memory with the words and the conduct

of the two preceding evenings, with the interest she had previously

felt in him, and with the account given of him by his companion and

friend. But she, like himself, would not pause to think of such

things--at least she would not scan them; and gladly she joined in

conversation upon any topic, which would lead her mind away from that

on which it lingered.

Many and varied, too, were the subjects with which he strove to

entertain her, to wile her mind away from the thoughts of her

situation, and to lighten the minutes of their long and devious

course, as they wandered on in search of some human habitation.

"How bright the night has become," said Algernon Grey, after a pause.

"Thus very often, when we least expect it, the storms that hang over

some part of every man's career, are wafted away, and all is clear

again."

"And but the brighter for the storm," said Agnes.

"Ay," he rejoined, "I fear me much, sweet lady, that we should never

enjoy the sunshine but for the shade. It is in the varieties of

creation and the constant changes of the world's life, that the grand

harmony of the whole consists. Let the tone of an instrument be ever

so sweet, what effect would it produce upon the ear, if it had but one

note? How poor is a concert with but two or three instruments! But in

the succession and combination of many notes and many tones, how

grand, how beautiful is the melodious harmony!--Skies ever blue, and

pastures ever green," he continued, changing to a gayer tone, "would,

I believe, become very dull and wearisome, notwithstanding all the

verses of pastoral poets."

"So men think, I have been told," answered Agnes; "and that they

choose their wives of tempers that may give them some variety."

"Yes, but there may be pleasant varieties, too," answered Algernon

Grey, "even in one character. The storm is, in itself, a grand thing;

but no man, methinks, would unroof his house to let it in; and,

besides, dear lady, all things have their fitness. The drums and

trumpets of an army are fine enough, mellowed by the open air; but who

would think of enjoying a full choir thereof in a narrow room? After

all," he continued, "in most classes of society this same marriage may

be called a matter of fate rather than of choice, arranged by friends,

or fixed by circumstances. Man little knows how rarely in life he is a

free agent, and, above all, how rarely in this respect. Then again,"

he continued, "even when man or woman is truly said to make a choice,

do they ever know that which they choose. We walk about with vizards,

my sweet friend; ay, even up to the steps of the altar; and the real

face is seldom seen till the ring is on the finger."

He spoke very seriously; but Agnes replied with a laugh: "Perhaps, if

it were not so, no one would marry at all; and yet," she added, in a

graver tone, "if I thought I did wear one of these same masks, I would

never rest till I had torn it off; for I would much rather never be

loved, than lose the love I had obtained."

"A far happier fate!" answered Algernon Grey; and then changing the

subject suddenly, he said, "How is it our discourse ever gets so

grave? With this fair scene around us, and such a joyful escape as we

have both had, methinks, we ought both to be more gay. It wants but

the nightingale's song to make this moonlight night complete in

beauty."

"Ah! but the dear nightingale," answered the lady, "is penurious of

his melody here; and in the month of June, or, at the latest, this

last month, all his sweet notes come to an end. I know not why; for

the people give the nightingale another flower; but, in my mind, he is

always associated with the violet. His song is so sweet, so tranquil,

so fragrant I may call it, so unlike the gay and perfumed rose, the

flower of summer sunshine, whose blushing breast seems to court the

gaze he shrinks from, that I can never fancy he would love the rose;

while the calm violet, pouring forth her sweet breath in the shade, is

his true image."

As she spoke, a distant light seemed to glimmer on the plain; but in a

different direction to that in which their steps were bent; and they

paused for a moment to remark it.

"It moves, it moves," said Algernon Grey; "it is but an ignis-fatuus.

How many of them are there in this world. Each man of us, I believe,

has his own, which he follows blindly. Love here, ambition there,

avarice elsewhere, the desire of worldly honours, the gewgaw

splendours of pomp and state, the miserable false light of fanaticism,

the dull foul lamp of superstition, are all so many Will-o'-the-wisps,

leading us ever from the broad, straightforward way. So will not we,

fair lady; but by your good leave, go upon this path, which will

conduct us somewhere. Here are tracks of wheels, I see, with the

moonlight glistening on the pools the storm has left--but your step

seems weary. Do I go too fast?"

"Oh, no," she answered; "yet I confess, a little rest, a roof over my

head, and a cup of cold water would not be unpleasant. The thought of

a village and all its quiet comforts which that light afforded, has

made me feel more fatigued since I saw it."

"Oh, yes," answered Algernon Grey, "there is something very sweet in

human associations, which we know not till we are deprived of them for

a time. The mind of man, I am sure, was never intended for solitude;

for the very thoughts of home-happiness and quiet converse with our

fellow-creatures--ay, even of their proximity, though they be

strangers to us, makes the heart yearn for all the warm companionships

of society when we are deprived of it."

"But I have society," said Agnes, simply, "when you are with me."

Algernon Grey made no reply, but changed the subject to courts and

courtly festivals, and then went on interweaving, as he was well able,

lighter with graver conversation, and striving, not without success,

to interest and occupy his fair companion's mind. The arts, then

almost at their height, or at least very little declined, were one

theme. Poetry furnished another. War, the chase, the pursuits of men

of his own day, the habits of the world, the differences between

countries, then marked out more strongly than at present, all passed

under light review, and sometimes speaking gravely, sometimes jesting

lightly, he gave that variety to all he said which he himself had

praised. Whether from weariness or from thoughtfulness, I know not,

but Agnes grew more silent as they went on. Certain it is, that the

words of William Lovet often came back to her mind. "He does not speak

thus to every one," she thought; and she asked herself whether it was

merely to cheer the way for her, that he thus put forth his powers, or

that he really esteemed and held her highly. If the first, she was

bound to be grateful, though, to say sooth, she would rather have

believed the latter. Either conclusion, however, was pleasant to

her--ay, very pleasant--almost too much so; for she grew frightened.

It lasted but an instant; and indeed then, with the happy sophistry of

woman's heart, she quelled her own alarm. "Surely," she thought, "one

may esteem and like without fear or danger. Am I such a vain fool as

to believe that every man who may see something better in me than the

light coquettes of a court, must therefore love me? Am I such a weak

fool that I must needs love, unasked, the first man who seems to treat

me as a rational creature? I am silly indeed even to let my thoughts

rest on such a matter. I will think of it no more. I will act as if

such idle fancies had never crossed my brain, but as the heart

prompts, and as nature leads."

She became more cheerful upon her delusion; but the way was long and

wearisome. The soft ground loaded the tired foot; the turnings of the

road disappointed expectation; and, though the bright moon still shone

out to guide them, no village could be distinctly seen; for the thick

orchards and small woods, which then occupied a large part of the

valley of the Rhine, cut off the view from those who wandered in the

low ground. The lady's garments too, fitted for the ride of the

morning, were all unsuited to her long night ramble, and fatigue

seized upon poor Agnes, and well nigh overpowered her. Twice she sat

for some minutes by the road-side to rest; and, whenever the wetness

of the swampy ground gave fair excuse, Algernon Grey took her in his

arms and carried her; but still she was well nigh sinking from pure

exhaustion, when a village clock struck clear and loud the hour of

eleven. No great distance could exist between the musical bell and the

ears that so gladly heard it; and with renewed hope and strength they

let themselves be guided by the sound through the trees, till the

tones of laughing voices came upon the air.

"There must be a village close at hand," said Algernon Grey, "and

happily some Fair or merry-making seems to have kept the good peasants

up and waking. See there are cottages!" and the moment after they

entered the long street of a small hamlet with the church at the

further end, and beyond, rising high above the houses, the tower of

some old castle built upon a mound.

The cottages were all dark and silent, and the merry voices they had

heard seemed to go on before them singing in chorus.

SONG.

Bruise the grape! draw the wine!

Oh the fruit of the vine!

It was given to console for the flood:

To bring light to the eye,

And to raise the heart high,

And to warm the old world with new blood.

When shut up in the ark,

Noah swam in the dark,

And no dove had returned to his breast;

He dreamed a glad dream,

That he saw a red stream

Flow forth from the cluster when pressed.

"We are weary," he said,

"We are cold, and half dead,

But there's comfort beneath this grim sea:

When we touch the hill top

The vine shall spring up,

And its warm juice shall set the heart free."

Bruise the grape! draw the wine!

Oh, the fruit of the vine!

It was given to console for the flood:

To bring light to the eye,

And to raise the heart high,

And to warm the old world with new blood.

Thus sung the peasants as they walked along, and Algernon Grey

exclaimed, with a smile, "Their song gives good council, sweet lady.

Though I saw last night that you were no wine drinker, you must now

even consent to take some of the juice of the grape, whose qualities

these good men celebrate. The inn where they have been tasting it

cannot be far, and you will at length have rest and refreshment."

"Rest, rest," said Agnes, "is all I need;" but Algernon would not

believe that food too was not wanted.

At length a light was seen streaming forth from a door not far from

the church; and a good stout country girl, throwing forth into the

midst of the street some torn and scattered flowers, which had decked

the little hall of the hostelry for the country festival, appeared at

the door. It was a glad sight for poor Agnes Herbert, and she drew a

long deep sigh, while Algernon Grey inquired if they could have

refreshment there, and rest for the night.

The girl seemed hardly to comprehend him, but called the bustling

landlady, who gazed at the two gaily dressed, but worn and

travel-stained strangers, for a moment with looks of doubt and wonder.

Agnes, however, in few quiet words, explained her situation, using, as

far as she knew it, the jargon of the country; and the good woman's

whole manner was changed in a moment. Instead of doubt and suspicion

of her guests, which she had before displayed, she was now all

motherly tenderness towards the young and beautiful creature before

her, although she was not without some embarrassments, also, as to the

accommodation of her unexpected visitors. Situated in a remote and

distant village, where a traveller very rarely staid for the night,

she had neither room nor bed prepared; and, though plenty of supper,

she said, was to be obtained in a moment, and as good wine as any in

the Circle, she did not see how she could get two beds ready, although

her daughter would willingly give up her own for the young lady's

convenience. Algernon Grey relieved her from a part of her

difficulties by telling her that he could sleep very well where he

was, and that the table or the bench in the large room, where she had

received her guests, would form a bed good enough for him, if she

would prepare a room for Agnes as soon as possible. With this latter

injunction she promised to comply; but there were two obstacles to its

literal fulfilment, namely, first, the good landlady's determination

that her guests should partake of a supper before they slept; and

secondly, that the hostess herself, and all her people were boors of

the Palatinate, who are not celebrated for the quickness of their

evolutions.

In vain did the young gentleman hurry her; in vain did Agnes protest

that she wanted rest before all things; half a dozen dishes, dressed

in various strange manners, were placed on the table before them, as

they sat by a dim and comfortless lamp, the mistress of the house

observing sagely, that it could do them no harm on earth to eat some

supper after so many adventures, and that, in the mean time, the

lady's bed could be prepared.

After having discovered that they were in the village of Shriesheim,

Agnes Herbert and Algernon Grey were left for more than half an hour

alone in the dinner-room of the little inn; and deeply did the fair

girl feel his conduct during that time; for although, with kindness

and every gentle attention, he pressed her to take some food and drink

some wine; though, with cheerful gaiety he strove to amuse and cheer

her, yet there was no token of respect that he did not show, to

diminish or remove any embarrassment springing from her position with

regard to himself. He made her smile; he even made her laugh; he

awakened her fancy, to lead her thoughts to gay and happy images: he

rendered his conversation light, playful, and sunshiny, but took care

that it should be sufficiently reserved to place his fair companion at

her ease, and to make her almost forget that she was not with him in

one of the saloons of the palace of Heidelberg. Her weariness somewhat

decreased as she sat and listened; and, to tell the truth, by the time

the landlady returned to conduct her to her bedroom, Agnes Herbert was

more disposed to remain where she was, and listen to sounds which fell

with dangerous softness on her ear.

Nevertheless she rose instantly, and held out her hand to her

companion, bidding him farewell for the night. He took it, and pressed

his lips upon it, wishing her good rest, and fair dreams.

Agnes gazed upon him with a smile as he did so, saying, "Methinks it

is I ought to kiss your hand, and thank you again and again for all

your acts of kindness in every way, all of which I have felt, from the

saving of my life to the soothing of my mind; but I must leave others

to do it who are more capable--I have no words."

CHAPTER XI.

One of the first cares of Algernon Grey, when Agnes had left him for

the night, was to send off a messenger to the castle of Heidelberg, to

announce, even at that late hour, that the lady was in safety. It was

with difficulty, indeed, that any one could be procured to undertake

the task; for Germany is a country in which there are some things that

people will not do even for money. But a man was at length found to

walk the distance, and to set out at once. The young Englishman's next

thought was how to obtain horses for the following morning; but it was

not till the messenger had departed that this occurred to him; and

when it did he felt some doubt as to whether a woman's saddle could be

obtained for the lady.

The good hostess undertook the task, however, without making any

difficulty, naming a neighbouring farmer's horse for himself, of whose

qualities he was very willing to run the risk, and saying that their

minister's daughter had a nice ambling pad, which she would lend very

willingly to bear that pretty lady to the castle.

This being settled, and pure water having been procured to wash away

from his face and neck the traces of all he had lately gone through,

Algernon Grey was left alone in the hall, to find repose as he best

could. But for a long time he sought no rest, at least for the busy

brain and anxious thought. During the three or four hours last past,

his mind had been fully occupied, at first with perils and dangers,

and with a sweeter and not less engrossing task at an after period;

but now, suddenly reverting to still earlier events, he turned to

inquire what might be the result to the adversary whom he had met in

the wood, of his sudden departure from the scene of strife.

Apprehensions crowded upon him for the fate of the Baron of

Oberntraut. The page, he feared, might have seen him hurry to the

rescue of Agnes, and, thinking only of duty to his master, might have

neglected to fulfil the orders he had received, in his anxiety to

trace and assist him. The wounded man might have been left to bleed to

death on the meadow, and, though he felt that he was not to blame, yet

Algernon Grey would have given a king's ransom to be sure that his

opponent had met with proper aid and treatment.

Thought, he knew, was fruitless, upon this subject at least; and yet

he continued to think upon it for some time, till the image of Agnes

Herbert began to mingle with these waking reveries, and with it a new

source of anxiety; she was so beautiful, so gentle, so full of every

grace and quality which he had dreamed of as perfection in woman, that

he could not but think of her with tenderness. He would not believe

that he thought of her with love; and yet he dreaded his own

sensations. Once more he made strong resolutions to quit Heidelberg

and the Palatinate immediately--to see her no more--to wander far--to

forget her. Poor youth! he had some experience of the world, but he

had not learned how completely all human resolutions are the sport of

circumstances; he had not yet learned that if in our weakness or our

passions we do not break them voluntarily, there are a thousand little

incidents over which we have no control, which step in between us and

their execution. His determination was firm and strong, however; his

conviction of the right course was not in the least shaken; and,

making up his mind at length to accompany Agnes back to the castle,

letting her see no change or difference in his manner, but to leave

her there and to depart the next day, he seated himself near the

table, bent his head upon his arms, and gradually sank into sleep.

In that strange, mysterious state, when a dull heavy curtain falls

between the mortal senses and all their external objects, when life

alone remains, and the spirit is cut off from all communication with

the rest of creation, while fancy yet from time to time--ay, and

memory too--wakes up with strange caprices, to deal with past and

future things;--in that great mystery of sleep, which none have

solved, notwithstanding the laborious idleness of their efforts,

images, not new perhaps, presented themselves to his eyes, but surely

arranged in novel and fantastic forms. Neither was it remembrance of

the things last past that called up the visions to his eyes; he saw

not his adversary lie bleeding on the grass; he saw not the drowning

horse, the sinking girl; no fierce engulfing stream rolled before his

eyes; no whirling bark bore him onwards through the darkness of the

night. Yet Agnes was with him in his dreams. Bright, as in her

festival beauty she had led him through the castle halls, she now

guided him through gardens of sweet flowers, stopping here and there

to pluck them, and wind them into coronets for his brow. Then came

another form across them, beautiful but fierce like a young tigress,

and aimed a dagger at his heart, when William Lovet grasped her hand

and plunged it in her own bosom.

The vision passed away, more profound sleep succeeded; and when

Algernon Grey woke on the following morning, the early light was

shining through the uncurtained windows of the room. His toilet was

necessarily brief; but the matutinal peasantry were all astir before

it was finished. A substantial breakfast was soon laid out for him and

his fair companion; and, after waiting for a few moments, he sent up

to inquire if she were ready. Agnes had been long up, and immediately

joined him in the hall, refreshed with sleep, though somewhat pale

with the terrors and fatigues of the preceding day. All her

cheerfulness had returned, but yet it is an invariable law of human

nature that no great emotions can be felt without leaving some

permanent effect behind. The scenes she had gone through, the

agitation she had felt, even the feelings she had experienced while

wandering through the fields at night with Algernon Grey, had made

their impression, never to be erased. I will not attempt to look into

her heart, for she would not look into it herself; but yet there were

external signs and indications, which, to any experienced and

observing eye, would have told the change. There was a deeper tone in

her manner; there was more soul and spirit in her look; there was a

thoughtfulness even in her gayest smile. All spoke of the heart, and

of newly-awakened sensations therein; and it seemed to Algernon Grey,

as she advanced, and, raising her eyes full of deep thankfulness to

his face, placed her hand in his, that she had now all which had been

previously wanting to render her beauty well nigh divine.

The meal passed gaily over; they spoke of the adventures of the past

day with the pleasant gratulation of dangers ended. They spoke of

their morning ride back to Heidelberg with the sweet anticipation of

pleasure to come; and, when breakfast was done, they mounted the two

horses which had been procured for them, and, with a youth on a third

to bring those which they rode back, they set out, with the bright

morning sun shining on their way. The clouds and storms of the

preceding day were all dispersed; and, in one bosom, at least, was a

gay and cheerful heart, unburdened with anticipations of evil, or

regret for any act in the past. As they rode along at the best pace

which their horses could command, Agnes poured forth to her

companion's ear all her bright and sparkling thoughts, lighted up by

that purest of enjoyment, which the expectation of giving pleasure to

others affords to a fine spirit. She talked of the joy her uncle would

feel in clasping her in his arms again, after he had thought her lost

for ever; of the calm, but hardly less heartfelt satisfaction of the

Princess Dowager in seeing her once more; and, although in Algernon's

bosom many a bitter and painful thought arose, many a struggle, when

he fancied that the last hours of their companionship were passing

away for ever, he would not suffer any appearance of his own gloom to

bring a shadow over her young happiness.

Thus fled the time; till, once more turning along the course of the

Nectar, the town and the hills, and the laughing valley, and the proud

castle, appeared before their eyes; and, crossing the bridge, and

threading the narrow streets, they began to ascend the hill. For one

moment they paused as they went up, to breathe their horses and to

gaze over the scene; and Agnes, before they proceeded, let fall her

rein, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, "I never thought to see all

this again."

Her eyes were raised to heaven in thankfulness, and then turned with a

momentary glance to Algernon Grey. From an impulse she could not

resist, she held out her hand to him, saying, simply, "But for

you--but for you!"

They rode on more slowly, and, as they entered the court-yard of the

castle, Algernon Grey said, "I must here leave you, dear lady, I

believe; but be assured, that to have rendered you service in a moment

of peril has been a happiness which will brighten many a future hour."

"But you will come with me to my uncle?" replied Agnes, with a

start, and a look almost of alarm. "Oh, come, I beseech you; it is but

fit that the deliverer of his child--of one that he loves as his

child--should take her back to his bosom. Oh, come."

"If it will give you pleasure," replied Algernon Grey, with a faint

smile; for he could not resist the temptation to linger still for a

moment beside her, and he felt himself weak.

At the farther angle of the court there were a number of gentlemen and

officers collected together, talking in the morning air; and, when

Agnes and her companion rode up, several of them sprang forward to

assist her in dismounting; but she paused till Algernon Grey was by

her side, and then suffered him to lift her from her horse. Returning

courteous, but brief answers to the congratulations, which showed how

much anxiety had been felt for her fate during the preceding night,

she looked round to her companion, saying, "Now I will lead the way to

my uncle. I know he would never forgive me, if I did not bring you to

him at once."

But, at that moment, a tall, elderly man, dressed in a military garb,

advanced and laid his hand on Algernon Grey's shoulder, saying, "I am

sorry for the task, sir, but I am commanded to arrest you, wherever I

may find you, in the Elector's name. I have sought for you all through

the town this morning. Give up your sword."

Algernon Grey merely smiled, replying, "I have no sword to give up,

sir. May I know my offence?"

"Your fatal encounter with the Baron of Oberntraut," replied the old

officer; "his father last night formally charged you with the murder

of his son; and the Elector issued instant orders for your

apprehension."

Agnes had turned deadly pale; and she raised her hand to her head, and

thought deeply for a moment.

"Where is the Elector?" she exclaimed, at length; "I will see his

Highness myself.--This gentleman saved my life; he rescued me, when

all others abandoned me; he perilled existence a dozen times for a

person whom he hardly knew--and is this his reward?"

"Fear not, dear lady," replied Algernon Grey; "this can have no bad

results--a little inconvenience, but nought else. I met the Baron of

Oberntraut, as one honourable gentleman meets another, when called by

him to the field; I met him without provocation on my part, without

anger or animosity, in a place of his own choosing, on a quarrel of

his own seeking. I spared him as long as I could; and, though I deeply

grieve to hear that he is dead, I will ever maintain, that the wound I

gave him was only in defence of my own life."

"He was supposed to be dying, though not dead," replied the old

officer, "when the news came last night. This morning we have no

intelligence."

"Where is the Elector?" asked Agnes again; "can any one tell me where

I shall find him?"

"He was in the Princess's cabinet a few minutes ago, fair lady," said

a young gentleman, stepping forward; "I do not think he has come forth

yet."

With a quick step, a flushed cheek, and an eager eye, Agnes hurried

away; and, at the same moment, the old officer whispered to a page who

stood by: "Run and tell old Oberntraut, he may want a word or two." He

then turned to his prisoner, saying: "As I know not what may be the

Elector's pleasure, sir, concerning you, it may be as well, that I

should take you to his presence as speedily as possible. We can wait

for him in his audience room, till he comes forth from the Princess's

apartments. Have the goodness to follow me." Thus saying, he led the

way to the castle, up the stairs and through a gallery above; and

then opening the door, he conducted his prisoner across a sort of

waiting-hall, which displayed numerous doors on either side. At one of

these, as he crossed, Algernon Grey beheld his fair companion of the

night before, standing with a page by her side. Her beautiful head was

bent down; her eyes fixed upon the ground; and she moved not in the

least, though the sound of steps must have reached her ear. The old

officer then opened a door on the opposite side; and the young

Englishman followed into a small room containing but one chair. There

they paused for about ten minutes, left entirely alone; and, at the

end of that time, the old chamberlain, who had so unwillingly

introduced Algernon and his cousin to the Elector's presence on the

night of the nineteenth of August, passed through with a hurried step.

As he went, his brow gathered into a heavy frown; and he glanced at

Algernon Grey, with his teeth set and his fingers clasped tight upon

the sheath of his sword. A moment after a bustle was heard without;

and the door being thrown open, the Elector entered with a stern brow,

accompanied by several of his officers, and followed by Agnes Herbert

and the chamberlain. Without noticing in any manner the young

Englishman, the Prince advanced towards the chair, but did not sit

down, turning as soon as he had reached it, and looking round.

"May it please your Highness," said the gentleman who stood by

Algernon's side, "I have, according to your commands, arrested Master

Algernon Grey here present, and crave your further orders concerning

him."

The young gentleman took a step forward before the Prince could reply;

and with a calm and well-assured countenance demanded, almost

haughtily, for what offence his liberty had been abridged. The proud

spirit of the free islander, the source of so much that is good, and

alas, too often the source of so much that is disagreeable, showed

itself for a moment in his tone and manner, though he took care to use

all courtly terms and titles of reverence, and in the end softening

his lofty bearing, professed himself ever willing to abide by the laws

of the land in which he sojourned, adding, "But knowing my innocence

of all offence, I claim fair and equal justice, and a full inquiry,

ere I am punished in any shape."

"Justice and fair inquiry you shall have, sir; fear not," answered the

Elector, somewhat offended by his bold tone. "It is fortunate that we

have been in England, and know that noblemen of that country fancy

themselves equal to the princes of other lands, or we might think your

bearing somewhat strange.--My lord of Oberntraut, you laid a charge

against this gentleman yesterday late at night--a most serious charge.

We had not at that hour time to inquire fully; but will now hear you

further."

"I charged him, your Highness, with the murder of my son," exclaimed

the old chamberlain, coming forward, "the cool deliberate murder of my

only child."

"What is he dead, then?" inquired the Elector, with a look of stern

grief.

"Not yet, sir," replied the other, "but he is dying. I saw him an hour

ago--his voice could be hardly heard--his eyes were faded and dull,

and his strong limbs, which have so often served the state, were

feeble as an infant's; but this man, I say--this stranger who comes

here, it may be as a spy into your court, seeks a quarrel with one of

your best servants, lures him at nightfall into a remote place, and

there, having left the two pages behind that no eye may see, slays a

man, who, as we all know, in fair honest fight and deeds of arms, had

no superior--scarce, indeed, an equal. It is of this I charge him,

your Highness--it is for this I demand his punishment. Justice I will

have by one means or another, and if by honied words, which he can

well use, he should escape the arm of law, let him look well to

himself, for I and mine will do ourselves right at last."

"Hush! hush!" exclaimed the Elector; "you injure a good cause by such

rash threats.--What would you, lady? I am glad to see you safe.--I

will speak with you presently.--This is no scene for you."

"Pardon, your Highness," answered Agnes, with the bold bearing of

strongly roused feelings; "it is a scene in which I must bear a part

whether I will or not. Listen to me for a moment. To this noble

gentleman I owe my life, and I must raise my voice against his

enemies. As I followed your royal lady here last night, my horse,

frightened at some object in the wood, plunged over the bank into a

torrent against which no living thing could struggle. He perished

there, poor beast! Your Highness's servants saw it. They can tell you

all."

"I have heard, I have heard," answered Frederic, bowing his head.

"All abandoned me," continued Agnes.--"Your followers--some of them

stout soldiers--the gentleman who rode by my side, those who went

before and they who followed--not one would venture on that frightful

stream to aid a drowning girl, when this noble man, almost a stranger,

in a frail bark, not stronger than a toy, which sank ere we reached

land, came, found, and saved me. Many a time that night he perilled

life for me--for one without a claim upon his goodness. Ay, at the

very moment when this old lord declares he had just committed cool

deliberate murder, he risked life, and all life gives, on the first

generous impulse of his heart. Is this likely, noble prince?--Is this

possible? Oh, no! the same high heart that bade him venture on that

dark stream, at the scream of a dying girl, be you sure has ruled his

actions whatever they were, in his dealing with a proud adversary.

Believe it not, believe it not! or else believe that honour is a name,

truth falsehood, and noble self-devotion but a murderer in disguise."

She spoke eagerly, vehemently, and her beautiful countenance, lighted

up with the roused energies of her heart, beamed like that of some

reproving angel, till in the end the emotions that she felt

overpowered her, and the light went out in tears.

"My lord and prince!" cried the old lord of Oberntraut, his bitter

rage taking the form of scorn under the restraint, such as it was, of

a formal sense of courtesy towards a woman. "It is easy to understand

and to forgive a lady pleading for her lover. But let us have done

with such trash now. Love tales are not for such occasions!"

"Sir, you imply, if you do not assert, a falsehood," said Algernon

Grey, sternly; "the very name of love has never been mentioned between

this lady and myself. When I pushed off the skiff to save her, I saw

not even who she was. But I will beseech you, dear lady, to leave us.

In the justice of this noble prince I will fully rely, and, by

staying, you only expose yourself to wrong constructions from the fury

of a rude old man."

The lord of Oberntraut laid his hand upon his sword, and partly drew

it; but one of the attendants held his arm, whispering a caution in

his ear; and Agnes replied, "I go then, but only to call a better

voice than mine to advocate the same cause."

"Now, Master Algernon Grey," said the Elector, "what have you to say

to this charge brought against you? Speak, if you will; but if you do,

I need not, I think, remind you that the truth is ever best, and in

this case more especially, as it must undergo full inquiry before

judges who will not be deceived."

"It is my habit, sir, to speak the truth," answered the young

Englishman; "and if the Baron of Oberntraut be still living, I require

that his statement be taken from his own lips. He is a brave and noble

gentleman, and will not belie even an adversary. Let his statement be

compared with mine, and they will be found to tally, I am sure. I

declare then, in this presence, that he fixed a quarrel on me for I

know not what: that he himself led me to the spot, made all the

arrangements, attacked me first, I passively parrying his thrusts till

the last moment, and then only lunged in self-defence. He will tell

you, too, that I did all in man's power to staunch the blood and give

him help; and I should have returned to remain with him, after having

sent my page for aid, had not that lady's cries called me to another

task, and the swollen Neckar borne us both far away. Let his own boy

be asked if he did not hear him give me directions on the road he

followed, invite me to dismount, and lead the way himself. This is my

simple tale, and, unless a gentleman and a soldier may without shame

refuse such invitations, I have done no wrong in yielding to his."

"In this land, sir," answered the Elector, sternly, "a gentleman and a

soldier not only may without shame, but must, refuse such invitations;

for, by my own law, now of some four years' date, all such encounters

are prohibited most strictly."

"Then his be the blame," replied Algernon Grey, "for leading a

stranger unacquainted with the law your Highness names, to violate it.

Gladly would I have avoided that which I personally do not approve,

but which habit not only sanctions but requires."

"My noble prince, this tale must be false," exclaimed the old lord of

Oberntraut; "you know my son right well, and that he is not one rashly

to violate your Highness's laws."

Frederic smiled; and, notwithstanding the sad importance of the

occasion, a light murmur, somewhat like a laugh, ran round the court,

to hear so peaceable a character given to the young baron. But the

Elector immediately exclaimed, "Silence, gentlemen. This is

unbecoming! I am sorry, sir, to show severity to any one of your

land," he continued, speaking to Algernon Grey; "but, at all events,

till your adversary's state is better known, and till we are sure what

the termination will be, you must endure confinement as best you may;

I will myself inquire of those who have tended his wounds, whether

they are mortal or not, and, when they shall judge it necessary, will

cause his own account to be taken from his lips. Fear not: you shall

have justice; but at present you must retire. My good lord of

Helmstadt, will you see him conveyed to the great tower, near the

English building. Let him have the vacant rooms on the third floor;

and I will afterwards put him in ward of some inferior officer."

"Look that you hold him safe, Helmstadt!" exclaimed the old lord of

Oberntraut; "for I call Heaven to witness that I will require blood

for my son's blood, if not from him, from those who hold him."

"Silence, sir!" said the Elector, "and quit my presence;" and waving

his hand, as signal, to the lord of Helmstadt, then chief marshal, to

remove his prisoner, the Elector turned to the Chancellor, Christopher

of the Green, by Wegersberg, and spoke to him for several minutes, in

a low tone.

CHAPTER XII.

In the large round room I have described in a former chapter, with its

column in the midst, decked out with arms and banners, just as it had

appeared when Algernon Grey first saw it, sat Colonel Herbert, the

English Knight as he was called at the castle, at the same hour when

his visitor was brought before the Elector on the charge of murder.

His brow was grave and thoughtful; his eyes bent down, as if he were

considering some subject deeply. Nevertheless, it must be said that

his mind was not affected by any immediate apprehensions for his

niece, though he was not yet aware of her return to the castle; but

Algernon Grey's message of the night before had reached him duly,

showing that she had been rescued from the great peril which she had

encountered.

The first news of the preceding evening had represented her as lost to

him for ever. When her horse had plunged over, the greater part of the

train of the Prince and Princess had, as I have shown, galloped

quickly forward. William Lovet had followed immediately after the

accident; and the small party of servants and attendants, whom Agnes

and the Englishman preceded, saw the accident as well as he did; but

not one of them ventured to make an effort for the lady's deliverance.

All that they thought fit to do, was to hurry on as quickly as

possible, and to inform the Elector of what had occurred, very

naturally believing the case to be a hopeless one, and the lady lost

beyond recovery. Frederic, for he was in truth a kind-hearted and an

amiable prince, at once stopped the cavalcade, and eagerly consulted

with those around him what was to be done. But all agreed, that long

ere assistance could be rendered, the lady must have perished, so that

it was in vain to attempt aught for her deliverance. Elizabeth of

England, though not more hopeful than the rest, urged immediate

search, or exertion in some way; but her voice was overruled by those

who felt that no exertion could be successful; and one old man even

ventured to say,--"It is all in vain. The Neckar will have its dues; a

certain number are drowned in it every year; and if it had not taken

this one, it would have taken another."

In deep, stern, solemn bitterness of heart; with that feeling of

despair which nothing can produce but the loss of the only one truly

and entirely beloved, Colonel Herbert had passed the hours from the

moment that the first news had been communicated to him till he heard

a hurried foot ascending the stairs of the tower; and then he started

up and gazed towards the door. He had not wept--his was too stern and

powerful a nature for tears; but, concentrated in the heart's deepest

recesses, the feelings which in other persons so often melt away like

spring thunderclouds in falling drops, burned and seared, till all

seemed desolate as a desert.

"They have found the body," he said to himself, when he heard the

step; but his servant ran in with a face of joy, exclaiming, "The lady

is saved, Sir Henry, the lady is saved; here a peasant has come from

the country to bear the news to the castle."

"Where is he?" exclaimed Herbert; "bring him hither--quick!"

"Alas! sir," cried the man; "the hall-porter has let him go."

Herbert seized him by both the hands, and gazed earnestly in his

face,--"Are you lying?" he exclaimed; "Are you lying?"

"No, Sir Henry, I would not lie for the world--on such a matter as

this," the servant answered. "The hall-porter sent his boy; and before

I would bear you the news I went up to inquire; but there I found it

was beyond all doubt. The man had come on foot three or four leagues

from a village down the river; and the gentleman, who saved the lady,

had given him two gold pieces to bear the tidings. He fancied himself

as rich as a prince, the porter said; and had gone to get himself

drink in the town."

"Enough, enough!" answered Herbert; "a man would not give gold to

spread such a report falsely. Leave me!" and, seating himself at his

table again, he remained in deep thought, without one exclamation of

joy, with scarcely the movement of a muscle, till the castle clock

struck two; and then, retiring into his bedroom, he laid himself down

and slept profoundly. When he rose on the following morning, a new

train of somewhat anxious thoughts took possession of him. "Who was it

that had saved his Agnes?" he asked himself. "Who was it that had

borne her company through the past long night? Was it one who could be

trusted? One who would respect the purity of her mind and heart, and

guard her like a child from all that would sully as well as injure?"

He was still busy with these fancies, when his ear caught a light step

on the stair; he knew it well; and, starting up, threw wide the door.

In an instant Agnes was in his arms, and a few moments were given up

to joy and gratulation. But the lady soon turned to a different theme.

"I will tell you all hereafter," she said; "but at present you must

come to the Elector to plead for and defend the saviour of your

Agnes;" and with rapid and eager words she gave a clear brief account

of all that had taken place since her arrival at the castle.

Herbert gazed upon her glowing countenance, as she spoke, with a

thoughtful and inquiring look, and then said in a low voice: "So it

was this Englishman, then, was it?"

"Yes," exclaimed Agnes, eagerly; "all others abandoned me; even his

own cousin, who had been riding by my side, spurred on and left me.

But for him, I must inevitably have perished."

"And he fought Oberntraut, too," continued Herbert, in the same tone,

"and vanquished him,--that were no easy task. But I knew what would

take place between those two--I saw it; but deceived myself as to the

time, else I would have stopped it."

"Nay, come," said Agnes, laying her hand upon his arm; "if you come

not speedily they will have sent him to prison."

"Stay awhile, my child," answered Herbert. "So this young man was kind

to you?"

"Most kind," replied Agnes, somewhat surprised at her uncle's manner:

"nothing that could be done to make me comfortable was left undone by

him."

"He has seen much of the world--been in courts, and camps, and corrupt

foreign lands," said Herbert, musing. "Where slept he at the place of

your last night's rest?"

"In the hall below," answered Agnes.

"And doubtless, by the way, he cheered and comforted you?" continued

her uncle.

"With the kindest courtesy," replied the lady.

"And with tales of love?" said Herbert.

"Not one word," cried Agnes, with the warm blood mounting into her

cheek; "nought that could be so construed for an instant. What is it

that you seek to know?" she added, pressing her hand upon his arm, and

looking full into his face. "Why do you speak so strangely? I have

nought to tell--not a syllable to say that your ear would not be well

pleased to receive. If you seek to know how my deliverer treated

me--it was as a kind and gentle brother towards a sister just saved

from danger,--somewhat colder, perhaps; than a brother might have

been, but still as tender, as considerate, as feeling. He aided,

supported, cheered, strengthened me, with more reverence than was

needed, perhaps; but yet I thanked him for it, for it set me at my

ease; and through those long hours I walked, hanging on his arm as if

it had been your own, with the same confidence and trust, and to the

end was not deceived; for not one word, nor act--and I am sure I may

say thought also--was there which could give me even a moment's

pain.--Surely you do not doubt your Agnes?"

"No, no, my child," cried Herbert, throwing his arms round her;

"I wished but to be sure that this young man was what I thought

him.----Now let us go, I am ready to plead his cause for you, and I

trust I shall not plead it vainly. I saw the challenge given, and

though I was not near enough to hear the words, feel sure that it came

from Oberntraut. Come, Agnes," and, with the lady leaning on his arm,

he walked quickly from his own tower to that part of the castle where

the apartments of Frederic and Elizabeth were situated. He was there

informed that the Elector was still in the small hall, as it was

called; and, hurrying thither, he threw open the door. The figure

which his eye first sought did not appear; for Algernon Grey had

already been removed. But the Elector was still standing at the

farther end of the room, conversing with the gentlemen around him; and

Herbert advanced at once towards the Prince, bowing low as he

approached.

"Ah, Herbert, is that you?" exclaimed Frederic, when he saw him; "I

wish to speak with you a moment alone.--Gentlemen, I need not detain

you longer. Stay you, fair lady: I have counsel for your ear also."

At the hint thus given, the room was instantly cleared of all persons

but the Prince, the English officer, and his niece; and, as soon as

the door was closed, Frederic exclaimed: "What is it, Herbert? there

seems an angry spot upon your brow. The affair of this young nobleman,

I will warrant. Well, that will be easily explained."

"You mistake me, noble Prince," answered Herbert; "I may be deeply

grieved to find that a noble gentleman, who has not only just saved

this dear child's life at the hazard of his own, but through a long

night, when she had no one else to protect her, has treated her with

that mingled respect and courtesy--that tenderness, united with

reverence, which none but the noble heart can feel or show--should

have fallen under your indignation; but anger, on my part, towards the

Prince I serve, is out of the question."

"You have heard the cause?" said Frederic, interrupting him; "this sad

duel with young Oberntraut."

"Oh, yes, your Highness, I know all that," replied Herbert; "I saw

Oberntraut seek the quarrel, and give the challenge."

"Then you are sure it came from him?" inquired Frederic.

"I heard not the words which were spoken, sir," answered Herbert; "but

there are looks and gestures as good as any words, and from them I

feel quite sure that the challenge came from him, who has fallen, it

seems. Besides, it was he who stopped my young friend, calling him

from my side, and, as he did so, I marked the frowning brow and

flashing eye--the lip that quivered with scorn and anger, and the

impatient gesture of the hand. It must have been hard to bear that

demeanour of his, and yet the other's was calm and grave, as if

resisting passion rather than yielding to it. Let the matter be

inquired into, my Prince; and if it be as I say, surely you will not

visit the faults of Oberntraut on the head of Master Grey, even by

imprisonment."

"For his own safety, Herbert," replied the Prince, putting his hand

upon his arm, "he must endure confinement for a while. If this young

lord recovers we can easily settle all differences between them, and

quiet down the old man's rash heat; but if he dies, you know old

Oberntraut, and are well aware he would move heaven and earth, and

take any means, lawful or unlawful, for revenge. In that case, we must

get this young gentleman out of the Palatinate as secretly as may be.

In the mean time, however, he must be a prisoner; for a chance-meeting

between him and the old man might be fatal to one or both."

"I trust your Highness will take care then," answered Herbert, "that

all shall be done to make his imprisonment light."

"As light as may be," replied the Prince. "I have been forced to put

on a stern face, and use harsh words, in order to satisfy my court

that I show no unjust favour to one of my fair lady's countrymen; but,

at the same time, I never dreamt of dealing hardly with him, and I was

but even now thinking of giving him into your custody, my good friend.

Then you can attend to all his wants and wishes,--but you must be

responsible to me for his safe custody, and you shall swear, upon your

honour, that by no indulgence you grant him, shall he be seen beyond

the walls of his present prison at any time when old Oberntraut is

within the castle-gates."

"Then the youth must be mewed up altogether," answered Herbert,

"unless we bring him out to walk at night, for that fierce old wolf is

here from sunrise till evening close."

"All that you must arrange as you can," answered the Prince. "I would

not, for half my dominions, have those two meet---- But will you

accept the custody, and give the promise? for I must now go."

"Well, well, since it may be no better," rejoined the English officer,

bluntly, "I must even take what your Highness is pleased to grant: I

give you my honour then, sir, to observe the orders you have given,

but I must have a soldier or two to keep guard, for we cannot prevent

him, I suppose, from seeing his friends."

"During the day," answered Frederic, "but not after nightfall. You can

take a guard if you think it necessary. Come to me in half an hour and

you shall have an order for his custody. We must hear the tale of your

strange adventures, fair lady, at some other time,--for the present,

fare-you-well!"

Thus saying, the Prince quitted the room by the door on his right

side; and, drawing Agnes's arm through his, Herbert returned towards

his own lodging, saying: "You shall be his little gaoler, Agnes; and,

as he has dealt nobly and truly by you, so you shall repay his

services by kind services in return."

END OF VOL. I.

HEIDELBERG.

-----

Vol. II.

HEIDELBERG.

A Romance.

BY

G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF

"THE SMUGGLER;" "ARRAH NEIL;" "THE STEP-MOTHER,"

ETC. ETC.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL.

1846.

London:

Printed by Stewart and Murray,

Old Bailey.

HEIDELBERG.

CHAPTER I.

In a large and stately chamber of one of the older parts of the castle

at Heidelberg sat a lady of the middle age, about half an hour after

Algernon Grey had been removed from the presence of the Elector. The

room was a long parallelogram, tapestried all round with richly worked

hangings, representing, in glowing colours and somewhat warm designs,

the loves of Vertumnus and Pomona. Few specimens of that now abandoned

branch of needlework could compete with those which were there

displayed. The flowers and the fruit seemed to stand out from the

background; the rich clusters of the grape and apple, the leaves of

the trees, and the very birds upon the branches, all seemed to project

into the chamber, and gave it the air of an arbour: while the forms of

the garden goddess and her changeful lover were displayed with a truth

and energy which, though not all offensive to the less delicate eyes

of those days, would be judged rather indecorous in our own. This fine

suite of tapestry had not been treated with much reverence by the

hands that hung it up; for over each door, and there were three in the

walls, a piece of the same size had been cut out and bordered with

gilt leather--much to the inconvenience of the legs of Vertumnus in

one instance, and to the waist and arms of Pomona in another--for the

purpose of nailing the slips so detached to the door, the opening and

closing of which were thus greatly facilitated. The ceiling above was

of dark oak, richly wrought in pentagons, which, rising one above the

other, diminishing as they came forward and ending with a spot of gold

in the centre, took the shape of stars to the eye below, before it had

time to trace out the elaborate workmanship; and from the central

pentagon hung a large rich gilt lustre of twelve lights. Chairs

covered with crimson velvet, tables with spiral legs and inlaid tops,

a small mossy carpet for the feet in one corner of the room, a lute, a

number of books, amongst which were several huge folios, and a

quantity of very fine rare porcelain, made up the furniture of the

chamber, which, though the light was by no means strong, even on a

summer morning, had an air of comfort and calm state about it, which

was pleasant and impressive to the eye.

There is a general harmony in all things, which we seldom see

violated--or rather, perhaps, I should say, things naturally fall into

harmony, and are never long in adapting themselves harmoniously to

each other. The man and his dress, the room and its tenant, the church

and the worship there celebrated, have all their peculiar fitness to

each other; and so it was in this instance; for the lady, who was

there seated, was exactly what one would have expected to find in that

place. She was a woman of a grave and thoughtful aspect, tempered by a

kindly look about the mouth, though the brow was firm and thoughtful,

and the eyes clear and very bright. The lightness of youth was gone;

and, if she could not exactly be called graceful, she was dignified;

and yet there was the ease of high birth and high education, which is

in itself a kind of grace, and the dignified carriage was softened by

an occasional touch of homeliness of manner the most remote from

vulgarity or coarseness. She was large in person, though not very

tall; and the fine cutting of the mouth, the dimpled chin, and the

small, though somewhat aquiline nose, displayed some pretensions still

to that beauty, which courtiers had celebrated in her younger days.

Her dress was very peculiar, consisting of a gown of black velvet,

covered down the front and on the arms with embroidery of the same

sombre colour; and, from the neck to the bosom, she wore a tucker of

the most magnificent white lace. Above this, round the neck, was a

large frill of plain white muslin; while springing from the shoulders

was a sort of black silk wimple or hood, much in the form of a

cockle-shell, stiffened with whalebone, and ready to receive the head

and neck, ruff and all. The coif consisted of a piece of black velvet

trimmed round with lace, fastened to the hair behind, and brought over

the head in a peak upon the wide-extended forehead, from which the

hair was drawn back, so as to leave the whole brow completely exposed.

Such was the dress and appearance of the Electress Dowager, Louisa

Juliana, sister of the famous William, Prince of Orange, one of the

most remarkable and clear-sighted women of her day; and I have thought

it fit to dwell thus far upon the mere description of her person and

habiliments, inasmuch as portraits of this Princess are very rare, and

no description, that I know, exists.

At the moment I speak of, she had just seated herself in a great

chair, and taken up a book; while one of her waiting-maids, who had

run forth from her dressing-room by the door on the left hand, was

thrusting another large pin into the black velvet coif to fasten it

more securely to her hair, a precaution which, it seems, she had

neglected while actually at her toilet. When she had done, the

Electress looked up, inquiring, "Have you sent to my cousin, the Lady

Agnes?"

"Eldrida is gone, may it please your Highness," said the maid with a

low reverence, and withdrew.

The reader will remark that the Electress Dowager applied the name of

cousin to the person of whom she spoke; but it must not be thence

inferred that they stood in a very close degree of consanguinity to

each other, for the lady to whom she sent was no other than Agnes

Herbert; and it was common in those days, for high personages, either

as a mark of reverence or love, to give the name of cousin to others

of inferior station in no degree related to them.

For about five minutes Louisa Juliana continued to read with a

somewhat careless and inattentive air, as if she were merely seeking

to occupy a short space of time with the semblance of some employment,

while her thoughts were really busied with other things. At the end of

that period a light tap was heard at the door--not the great entrance

which issued forth on the corridor and the stairs, but that of the

dressing-room--and the next instant Agnes Herbert entered and

approached the chair of the Princess. She had changed her dress since

her return; and though, perhaps, her face was a shade paler than it

had been before all the adventures of the preceding day, yet her

exceeding loveliness was not diminished, even if the character of her

beauty was somewhat changed.

The Electress rose partly from her seat as soon as she saw her; and

when Agnes bent, almost kneeling at her feet, she cast her arms round

her and pressed her warmly to her heart.

"Welcome, welcome, my sweet child," she cried; "I thought that fate,

after taking from me so much and so many that I loved, had deprived me

also of my Agnes. Oh, my dear girl! you cannot fancy the anguish of my

heart during many a long hour last night. Seeing what I suffered, they

came to my bedside at one this morning, and told me that, by some

miracle, you had been saved. I would scarcely believe the tidings,

loved one; and till I heard just now that you had returned, a shade of

unbelief would linger in my mind."

"I should have been here ere now, your Highness," answered Agnes, "as

bound in duty and in love, had not a matter of importance called me to

the presence of the Elector. My deliverance was, indeed, a miracle,

though yet one should scarcely say so, when it was brought about by

that which should be as frequent as it is seldom, the gallantry and

devotion of a gentleman and a courtier."

"Nay, sit you down here, my Agnes, and tell me all your marvels," said

the Electress; "for as yet I have heard nought of the story. Indeed, I

believe all in the castle are as ignorant as myself."

"Not now," replied Agnes; "in different forms, part truth and part

falsehood, it has spread, I find, far and near. But I will tell you

all, noble lady, exactly as it happened; for it is a pleasant task

when one has nought but gratitude and praise to speak;" and, with more

minute details than even she had indulged in towards Herbert, the fair

girl proceeded to relate to her high friend all that had occurred

since she had left her on the preceding day, till the moment she had

left the Elector's presence. I have said "all;" but there were two

things which she omitted: William Lovet's praises of his cousin, and

the keen questions which her uncle had put to her on her return. For

some reason, she knew not what herself, she spoke not on these two

themes, but all the rest was told.

Louisa Juliana listened with thoughtful, earnest attention; her

countenance did not vary much, for she was habituated to command its

expression; but still there were particular parts on which she seemed

to ponder more than others. All Agnes said of her escape from the

imminent peril of death, and of him who had delivered her, she seemed

to mark peculiarly; but, at the story of his arrest and what had

followed, she took apparently but little heed, merely saying: "It will

be found that Oberntraut provoked it."

When the young lady had done, she laid her hand upon her shoulder and

kissed her brow, thanking her for her tale, and adding, "This is

indeed a noble and a generous man, my Agnes; and I must see him and

tell him what I think, for your sake, my sweet cousin."

"But he is in prison," answered Agnes; "and, I fear, may not be

enlarged for a long time."

"I must see him, nevertheless," replied the Electress, thoughtfully,

"on many accounts, dear girl--" she paused, and seemed to meditate a

moment or two, after which she added, "I had heard of his being here

before, Agnes--nay, you yourself told me of his demeanour the other

night, but it is not that alone; a hint has reached my ears, that he

has more objects than one, that he is not merely a traveller for

pleasure; and this calm and thoughtful character in one so young

bespeaks, methinks, a brain burdened with weighty matters. My son, I

can see, judges the same,--he denies not that he knows him, and that

he is not exactly what he seems.--I must see him, Agnes; and that,

too, as speedily as may be."

"But how, dear lady?" inquired Agnes Herbert.

"Oh, that will be easy," answered the Electress; "your uncle has him

in custody, you say; well, you shall be his turnkey for the night, and

bring him forth to take the air upon the walls, or in the gardens;

then lead him out beneath my windows, which shall be open; and, when

you hear my little silver bell, conduct him hither by the small

staircase in the tower.--I must know more of his errand, Agnes; and,

if it be what I think, I may find cause for a long conference. The

fate of my son and his whole house, the fate of Germany, nay, perhaps

of Europe, is now in the balance, and I would fain prevent any fresh

weight being thrown into the wrong scale. Wait till night has fallen,

and I will ring my bell some time before ten.--Tell Herbert you have

my commands."

"Which shall be obeyed, depend upon it, madam," answered the young

lady, and then remained silent, as if waiting to receive any further

directions.

"And so you are doubtless very grateful to this young cavalier, my

Agnes," said the Princess, at length.

"What would I not do to show my thankfulness!" cried the fair

enthusiastic girl.

"Anything in reason, child," replied the elder lady; "but let not

gratitude carry you too far in your young fancies. The saving of a

life may be paid too dearly by the peace of the heart."

Agnes smiled gaily. "Oh, no fear of that, noble lady," she answered:

"he is no love-maker; and if I could thank him for anything more

earnestly than for his chivalrous deliverance, it would be for his

kind, calm, brotherly treatment throughout yesternight, without one

word or look that the vainest heart could construe into gallantry."

"Strange conduct for so young a man! Strange gratitude for so fair a

girl!" replied the Electress, laughing. "Yet be not too sure of

yourself or him, dear child. Love may be heaping up the fuel before he

sets the flame to the pile. Mark me, my Agnes, and do not let your

cheek glow so warmly. I do not tell you not to love: that were both

vain and dangerous: I only say, know him better before you do. All I

have heard of him speaks well, and marks him out for no ordinary man;

but yet it is right, when gratitude is so warm in a young heart, to

take care that it lights up no other flame without our knowing it.

Yours is a rich fancy, my Agnes, and an ardent spirit; and my good

cousin Herbert is not so careful as a mother."

"Oh, he is more careful than you deem him," replied the young lady,

with a faint smile at the remembrance of his questions; "he

interrogated me as strictly this morning as a grand inquisitor; would

know all my companion's words and acts towards me, even to the

smallest trifle."

"But asked you nothing of your own, I will warrant," said the

Princess: "that is his character, my child. All the English are

theoretical, and he has his system, good as far as it goes, but often

carried too far, and often inapplicable. Because he met with one woman

in life who was an angel, if ever one dwelt on earth, and has known

few others, his rule would seem to be to trust all women, and to doubt

all men. But my advice, my Agnes, to every young being placed as you

are, would be, to doubt yourself and ever to fly danger!"

"And do _you_ doubt me, dear lady?" asked Agnes, almost mournfully.

The Princess cast her arm round her, exclaiming, "No, dear girl! No! I

would doubt myself sooner; but what I have said was yet in kindness,

Agnes. This same gratitude often leads on along a flowery path into a

wilderness. Sweet smiling blossoms strew the path at first, and as we

gather them we go forward farther than we know; till, frightened at

the growing desolation round, we would turn back and then find the way

shut with thorns and brambles. I say, beware, my sweet child, till you

have known him longer, better, nearer. Then if he seek to win your

heart, and you can give it, let it be so; for I am not one to

undervalue the worth of true and honest love. It may have its pains;

but I do believe that woman's life, at least, is not complete till she

has known its blessings."

"But why should he seek to win my poor heart?" asked Agnes. "Why

should I fancy that he ever will? He has never said one word that

should justify me to myself for dreaming of such a thing. Doubtless he

has seen many brighter, better, fairer than myself, and will see many

more. As yet I have done nought to win his love, though your Highness

thinks I know he has done much to win mine; but there is a vast

difference between gratitude and love. I am too proud to love

unsought, believe me; and till he either tells me so, or I have

accomplished something worthy of love from him, I will not even fancy

that he can feel aught but courteous kindness to me."

"Poor child!" said the Electress, "you are a scholar of the lowest

class in this same school of love, I see. You have done nought to

merit love! Have you not made yourself to him an object of eager,

anxious thought and apprehension, when, whirling in the torrent, he

rushed to save you? Have you not given him cause for the display of

gallant daring and fine enthusiasm? Have you not wakened through the

livelong night the tender, soft emotions of the heart for one

protected, soothed, supported? What is this but to merit love from any

man? You much mistake, my Agnes, if you think men's hearts are won by

that which will win woman's. Man's is a different nature, a calling

unlike ours: his task to strive with danger for himself and others, to

shield the feeble, and love those he shields. Ours to suffer and to

shrink, to seek protection from a stronger arm, and pay with our whole

hearts the price of man's support. Overwhelm him with benefits, give

him wealth, distinction, a kingly crown if you have it to bestow; save

him from death, or pain, or misery, still you will twine no bond

around his heart so strong as that which binds it to the object of his

care or pity. But enough of this, my child, I would but warn you; for

every woman carries a traitor in her bosom, ever ready to yield the

citadel unless well watched. Bring this brave gentleman to me, as I

have said, to-night. When I have seen him, I will tell you more."

Agnes retired, but she went not straight to her uncle's tower. It was

her own chamber she first sought, and there, for well nigh an hour,

with her fair face resting on her hand, she remained in deep and

seemingly painful meditation. I will not pause to inquire what were

the busy thoughts that crossed that young and inexperienced brain;

what the emotions which filled that pure warm gentle heart. For a time

her reveries were certainly bitter ones; but then she seemed to cast

them off with some strong resolution; the clouds passed from her brow,

her sparkling eye looked up, and rising with a gay laugh, she cried,

"No, no; I will not give it another thought!" and with a light step,

hurried to Herbert's tower.

CHAPTER II.

In the custody of the Grand Marshall, Algernon Grey was removed from

the presence of the Elector, and passing across the hall where he had

seen Agnes waiting, he was led into one of the open galleries which

ran along the great court on one side, and thence by innumerable small

passages, scarcely large enough for two persons to thread them

abreast, to the door of a chamber which opened upon one of the

landing-places of a tolerably wide staircase.

The door was low, scarcely of the height of the young Englishman's head,

and covered with large bars and bands of iron, as well as heavy-headed

nails. When it was opened, it displayed on the right-hand side a small

ante-room, with a high window, opposite to which was another low-browed

arch with a door, and beyond that a third door equally solid and strong

with the first.

The Lord of Helmstadt, as they passed, pointed towards the arch on the

left, saying, in a courteous tone: "There will be your bedroom, and

here your servants can remain, if, as I trust, it be the Elector's

pleasure that your usual attendants should be admitted to you." As he

spoke, he led the way towards the third door; and, turning the heavy

key that was in the lock, opened it, motioning the young Englishman to

go in.

Algernon Grey did so in silence, and with no very pleasant

anticipations; but he was agreeably disappointed in finding himself in

a room bearing very little the aspect of a prison, cheerful in itself,

and commanding that same unrivalled view, which he had beheld before

from the castle grounds. In shape, the chamber was an exact half-moon;

the large round tower in which it was situated being cut by a

partition, which left this segment as a sort of wide saloon; while the

other half was again divided into two, the one portion being

appropriated to the purposes of a bed-room, and the second and lesser

part serving as an ante-room, except a small space which was separated

from the rest to contain the staircase.

The furniture of the room was costly and convenient. Nothing was

wanting that could contribute to the comfort of its denizen; and

Algernon Grey drew from the aspect of the whole place an augury that

it was not the Elector's intention to show any very great severity

towards him. The hangings, the tables, the velvet chairs, however

attracted but little of his attention; for he walked at once forward

to one of the three large windows, through which the full torrent of

light was streaming into the room, though not indeed the sunshine; for

it was yet morning, and that side of the tower looked to the south and

west.

"A glorious prospect," he said, turning to the Marshall; "methinks a

day or two's sojourn here will be no great infliction. Nevertheless, I

protest against the right of any one to place me in confinement for

that which I have done. Endurance, however, is a serviceable quality;

and the Elector's will must be obeyed; but I do trust that I shall not

be left here without some attendants within call; and that my servants

and baggage may be brought up from the inn, where I left them, little

anticipating imprisonment."

"I will take the Elector's farther commands," replied the Lord of

Helmstadt. "Of course some persons will be appointed to attend upon

you; but whether your own servants, or not, I cannot say.--I must

leave you alone for a time, greatly grieving that such a chance should

have befallen so gallant a gentleman. We all know John of Oberntraut

well; and there is not a man in all the court who doubts that he has

provoked this affair; but the Elector has been very strict in such

matters lately, and of course he cannot show favour even were he

inclined."

Thus saying, he withdrew; and Algernon was left alone. For an instant

he gazed round the room, while the key grated heavily in the lock, and

then laughed in a light cheerful tone. "Here I am a captive," he said;

"well, though unexpected, it is no great matter. A few short hours, a

few short days, what are they from the sum of life; and, forgetting

that I have lost my liberty, I will think myself a prince hospitably

received, well lodged, and only, like the slave of the Harem, not

suffered to go abroad. What an idle thing it is for a man to fret and

wear himself with vain regrets over the loss of that shadowy thing,

the portion of freedom that is left him by the usages of the world. In

courts and cities, with the stiff bit of the law beneath his jaws, he

is trained and curbed up by the habits of the land to go through his

taught paces, like a horse in the manege, curveting here, and

passaging there, with hardly a natural step in his whole allure. Here,

with no eves to watch me, with no form of restraint or customary

ceremonies, I can have more real freedom than in a king's halls,

although yonder door be locked and bolted. What is it that makes

imprisonment painful? Either the anticipation of farther evil as its

dark termination, or the prospect of its indefinite, perhaps

interminable, extent. In a few days I shall be free. They dare not do

me wrong. I have nothing farther to apprehend. Why should the locking

of that door jar upon my ear, when the hand that turns the key is on

the outside? Had it been my own hand, ere I lay down to sleep, it

would have been nothing--no, no, I will bear it lightly. Man doubles

all the evils of his fate by pondering over them; a scratch becomes a

wound, a slight an injury, a jest an insult, a small peril a great

danger; and a light sickness often ends in death by the brooding

apprehensions of the sick.--What a magnificent scene! Methinks, I

could contemplate that view for ever; and, forgetting all the world,

live here an anchorite in the midst of a great city, worshipping God

in the grand temple of his brightest works."

Vain, oh! how vain is it in man to strive, by the mere power of

intellect, to quell or overrule the natural affections of the heart.

The stoical philosophy would have broken down instantly, had not its

teachers skilfully applied emollients to its harsh sternness, teaching

not alone to bear the evils that fate inflicts, but often, also, to

fly from them--ay, to fly, even though the place of refuge was the

tomb: for, after all, the magnificent-miened crime of suicide, was but

a cowardly flight before a conquering army of the world's ills.

Vain was all the reasoning of Algernon Grey; and silently and slowly

the solitary moments, as they passed, sapped the foundations of the

tall edifice of lofty thoughts which he had so confidently built up.

First he began to find the time go slowly; he felt delight in the

beauty of the scene, it is true, but it was all still: nothing moved:

the very air had fallen away, so that the leaves of the trees stirred

not on the branches; and the green Neckar looked like a sheet of solid

glass. He could not see into the streets of the town; the thickness of

the walls excluded the garden below; the sky overhead was without a

cloud; the glowing heat of the day kept the birds quiet; and the light

changed so slowly, that the creeping on of the shadow here and the

sunshine there was imperceptible to the eye. The prospect was

beautiful; but it became monotonous; and a storm or cloud would have

been a relief.

He began to turn his eyes towards the door, and wished that some one

would come. The knowledge that it was locked became oppressive to him;

he felt that his philosophy was failing, and he determined to find or

make an occupation. He had not yet seen the bed-room; and, walking

through the door, which communicated with it, he examined the

furniture it contained, looked out of the high window over the roofs

of some of the buildings and against the walls of others. A pigeon,

seated upon one of the gables, took flight at that moment, and whirled

up into the free air. Algernon Grey knew then how much he had felt the

loss of liberty; for to witness the bird's flight was joy to him; and

yet it woke melancholy associations. As he saw it spreading its

pinions lightly in the clear sky, sweeping round in a gay circle, and

then darting away to meadow or to corn-field, he thought how beautiful

a thing freedom is, how terrible is its loss.

The bird disappeared; and walking slowly back into the other chamber,

he seated himself in the window and gazed out; but bitter thoughts

took possession of him; and the mind rambled on from one sad train of

images to another. He thought of human life, its griefs, its cares,

its changes. He viewed it all darkly, both its accidents and its

ordinary course. "What is it," he said, "but a gradual development,

filled with many an evil and many a danger, a short maturity and a

long and sad decay? Scarcely have we touched our prime, when some

failing power, some slackened energy, some corporeal, or some mental

weakness, warns us that we are on the descent, and that all is

thenceforward downward, downward to the grave. Thenceforward the game

of life is all loss. One after another we cast the dice for a new

stake; and fate is ever the winner against us; till, bankrupt in body

and in mind, we go to bed, and sleep--forgotten. Then, too, how often,

even in the days of our highest energies, comes something to bar us

from the treasures that we covet; some small but fatal obstacle, over

which all our hopes fall prostrate; the eternal stumbling-block of

circumstance that gives the ever-flying good time to escape us.

Often!--Nay I should have said ever; for that dark inscrutable hand of

fate, still mingles with the cup of joy, even when sparkling most

brightly in the hand of youth, the bitter drop that soon pervades it

all."

He turned his mind to other things. "Well, it matters not," he

thought, "there is surely one unalloyed pleasure, at all events,--to

do good, to save, protect, befriend." Then, for an instant, his fancy

rested joyfully upon the events of the night before. He thought of

Agnes Herbert--of having saved her from destruction--of having rescued

her from the dark waters of that turbulent stream--of having given

back to life that creature, so full of all life's brightest energies;

and, for a moment, he was happy. She rose before him in her young

beauty, sparkling with graces, heart beaming from her eyes; love and

happiness upon her lips; her clear, fair brow, like the expanse of

heaven; and the soul of loveliness in every look and every movement.

The vision was too bright; and, clasping his hands together, he fixed

his eyes upon the ground, murmuring bitterly through his closed teeth:

"Yet she never can be mine!"

Deep, deep and gloomy were his meditations after; and more than one

hour passed by, ere he moved a single muscle; till, at length, he

heard a step, and a voice speaking without; and, starting up, he

strove to clear his brow, brushing back the hair from his forehead,

and looking grave, but not so sad. The key was turned in the door; and

the next moment, two faces, which he knew well, presented themselves,

those of Herbert and William Lovet.

Herbert stayed not long. "For the first time in life, Master Grey," he

said, "I have petitioned to be a gaoler; but I have so much to thank

you for, that I might well undertake that office on your behalf, to

soften, as much as possible, your captivity, which will not be long, I

trust. My thanks and my plans of all kinds must have greater room than

I will now give to them, as your cousin is here to talk with you; but

I will see you again, ere the day be over, and, in the mean time,

provide for your comfort, as far as may be. So fare-you-well for the

present;" and, shaking him warmly by the hand, he turned to Lovet,

saying: "The guard without knows your person, and will give you exit

when you require it. You can come hither as often as you like during

the day; but after sunset the gates of the tower, by the Elector's

orders, must be closed against all visitors."

"Thanks, colonel, thanks," answered Lovet, and gazed after him to the

door, ere he spoke to his cousin. The opening of his conversation was

as strange as usual; for he began with a loud burst of laughter.

"Caged, Algernon, caged!" he exclaimed. "Well, upon my life, a mighty

pretty dungeon, and convenient! Velvet chairs, upon my life; and a

ravishing prospect, as poets would call it. Good soup, a bottle of

rich wine, and bread not too brown, and, methinks, you are comfortably

provided for. On my life, I am greatly indebted to the Elector."

"You seem to enjoy his bounty towards me, certainly," answered

Algernon Grey, with a slight touch of bitterness; "may I know,

William, whether it is from kindly sympathy with my pleasures, or from

personal satisfaction, you derive your merriment?"

"Oh, personal, personal!" exclaimed Lovet. "That celebrated cardinal,

the son of a butcher and master of monarchs, bright Wolsey, was a

frank and sincere man; and when he wrote 'ego et rex meus,' he

only did what every other man would do, if he were not a hypocrite,

namely, put himself first, that is to say in the place which he

occupied in his own consideration. I love you second to myself, dear

Algernon.--Don't tell sweet Madam de Laussitz, or her deep sleepy eyes

would flash with indignation, to think that I loved any thing or any

body, but her fair self. However, can you deny that I have great

obligations to the Elector? Here he has caged my bird, just as I

thought it was about to take flight, and that I should be obliged to

follow. It answers my purpose just as well as if you had fallen in

love with all the ladies of the court together, and stayed

philandering in orange bowers. As to yourself, from what I know of

you, the Elector's prison will be much more pleasant than Cupid's

chain; and, on my life, he has put the jewel in a very snug casket.

Here you are, like a poor simple Catholic girl's new crucifix, wrapped

up in cotton, and laid upon a shelf, all safe and sheltered; while I,

like the same poor maiden, go wandering at large in my worldly

vanities."

"Take care, William," answered Algernon Grey, "that your vanities

don't get you into worse than this."

"Heaven and earth listen to the man!" exclaimed William Lovet,

laughing. "Think of his preaching decorum to me! Did I not tell you

long ago, Algernon, that your vices were much more serious ones than

mine? Here, instead of bowing down and worshipping the embroidered hem

of some fair lady's petticoat, the very first thing you do in a

strange country is, to go and cut a poor man's throat. Now, I will ask

you fairly and candidly, which is the worst, to amuse an hour or two

in giving and receiving pleasure; or to spend your time like a wild

cat in a holly bush, scratching your neighbour's heart out?--The

thing won't bear an argument, cousin of mine. I am the moral and

well-regulated young man; and you are the reprobate."

"I only cut another man's throat, as you call it, William, in defence

of my own life," replied Algernon Grey; "but, of all men, you should

be the last to find fault with such a transaction. Methinks I have

heard of some six or seven of such affairs upon your hands."

"Ay, but I never begin with fighting," answered Lovet; "when driven to

such extremities, I can't help it. I always commence with love and

affection; and, if it end with hate and naked rapiers, it is no fault

of mine. And so you pinked this Oberntraut! Why, you deserve thanks

for that, too. Really it was a public service; if he die, there will

be one bubble less upon the stream of the world; and, if he recover,

the bleeding and the lesson will do him an immense deal of good. 'Tis

a pity it was not in the spring; for that is the time, the doctors

say, to let blood."

"Pray, do not jest upon the subject, my good cousin," answered

Algernon Grey; "I went unwillingly on a quarrel not of my own seeking;

I did what I scarcely judged right to save my honour; and I bitterly

regret that I was forced to wound a gentleman, who was too skilful a

swordsman to be disarmed. Let us talk of other things."

"Pooh!" said Lovet, "he's a coxcomb, and deserved it. If you had not

done it, I would have done it for you.--But to talk of other things,

as you say. The Elector can certainly mean you no harm by assigning

you so pleasant a place for imprisonment. When you have got up your

clothes and a few books, you will be as comfortable here as at the inn

with a sprained ankle--more so; for you will want the pain. Then, my

dear Algernon, you will be out of all temptation, which is a great

thing in your case. Here you can neither drink, nor swear, nor game,

nor make love; in short, you are now physically in the state, to which

you voluntarily reduce yourself morally, and are cut off from all the

little pleasures of life by that door, instead of a puritanical

spirit.--I could myself be very comfortable here but for one thing. I

have often thought, as I like to try every sort of emotion in this

world, that I would make myself a voluntary prisoner for a few days,

only I could never determine upon the gaol."

"And pray what is the one thing wanting in this sweet place?" asked

Algernon Grey; "the one thing I want is liberty; but, I suppose, that

is not what you mean?"

"Oh, dear no," cried Lovet, "I mean woman's company; I should require

something sadly to play with, to teaze, to irritate, and to amuse

myself with, as I would a petted child, and then to soothe her with

soft caresses, and look into her liquid eyes, half full of tears, half

light. Liberty! Pooh! liberty is nothing. I would sell myself for a

sequin to a Turk, if he would but engage to imprison me in his harem.

But, on my life! if I were shut up in a prison for any of my small

misdemeanours, I would get some fair girl or another to come and

entertain me at any price, were it but the gaoler's fat daughter."

Thus went he on for well nigh an hour, with gay, light, apparently

thoughtless talk; but yet it was all calculated to produce a certain

impression; and it must not be denied that, in a degree, it did so. He

never mentioned the name of Agnes Herbert; he never alluded to her in

the most remote manner; he spoke not of his cousin's gallant conduct

on the preceding night; he seemed to be ignorant of all that had taken

place, except the duel and the arrest. But yet his conversation turned

Algernon's thoughts to Agnes, and made him long for her society. His

words called up a pleasant dream of how she might cheer the hours of

imprisonment, how, under other circumstances, she might make the sad

and weary day the sweetest and the brightest of life. Algernon gave

himself up to the dream too. As he had no substantial source of

pleasure, he fancied he might as well console himself from the stores

of imagination; and on Agnes his thoughts rested, fondly, tenderly,

even while his cousin remained with him.

Lovet marked well the effect he produced; the meditative look, the

occasional absence of mind, the random answer, and a sigh that once

broke forth; and, when he thought he had succeeded sufficiently, he

rose to go.

"Well, Algernon," he said, "what shall I send you up?--clothes, books,

and an instrument of music by the hands of a pretty maid, if I can

find one. They tell me, you must not have your man; but the category

did not include the fair sex; and, unless they are barbarians,

they will let you have a femme-de-chambre, though they exclude a

valet.--Come, come, do not look so grave. I must go and pay my

devotions, but first will despatch all that you may require.--Leave it

to me, I will make a good selection, never fear; and your little

coxcomb, Frill, shall carry them all hither, and see if they will let

him stay to tend upon you. Whatever be their rules and regulations, if

they view him justly, he can fall under none of them; for Heaven only

knows what class the little devil belongs to; I am only certain that

he is neither man, woman, nor child.

"Well, send him at all events," answered Algernon Grey; "it would be

convenient if they let him stay. Send a lute, too, if you can find one

in the town."

"A lute!" exclaimed Lovet. "On my life! the man will fall in love at

last, if it be but by twanging catgut to his own sweet voice. To

think, that two pieces of white board, strung with the entrails of a

tame tiger, should give a reasonable creature, full of intellect as he

thinks himself, the best consolation in adversity, is a sort of

marvel--a lute! Heaven bless the mark!--Well, you shall have a lute,

if it be but to make you commit a folly for once in your life and sing

soft ditties to a certain spot in the ceiling.--Adieu, cousin, adieu!

I will see you again to-morrow."

"Bring me news of this young baron's state, if you can get them," said

Algernon Grey.

"Happy for him, I am not his physician," answered Lovet; and thus

saying he left the room. When he was gone, the prisoner relapsed into

thought again; but he had found out--or at least his cousin's words

had suggested--a new source of pleasant meditations. They were

dangerous ones, it must be owned--those sweet alluring fancies which

lead us along far, much farther than we know of, with steps as light

as if the foot rested upon clouds. It was weak, but it was very

natural so to give way. For long, long hours there was no occupation

for his mind. The choice, if it could be called a choice, was between

dark and gloomy broodings over a bitter point in his fate, together

with sad anticipations of the future, on the one hand; and, on the

other, an unreal dream of happiness, which could hardly, by any

possibility, be verified, but which yet presented itself to fancy

every moment, when thought was left free to roam, unrestrained by a

powerful will. Is it wonderful that he grew weary of the struggle? Is

it surprising that more and more he gave way to the bright deceptions

of a warm eager heart and quick imagination? Is it to be marvelled at,

that in the dull hours of solitude, he turned from the gloomy pictures

presented by reason and memory, to gaze upon the glowing pageantry of

fancy and hope? Ah, no! And so constituted mentally and corporeally,

so situated in the past and in the present, few, very few men on earth

would be found to resist more than he resisted, to do otherwise than

he did. He yielded his heart to the only comfort it could receive, he

yielded his mind to the only thoughts that were bright; and, though

his stern resolve to do all that was right maintained its place, yet

the traitors of our peace were busily undermining in secret the

defences of the castle in which he trusted. He made Agnes Herbert the

companion of his thoughts. He saw her with the mind's eye; the tones

of her sweet voice came back to his ear melodiously; the glance of her

clear soft eye, with all its tempered brightness, seemed upon him

again; the very memory of her grace and beauty brought sunshine with

it, as sometimes, when we shut our eyes in the darkness of the night,

resplendent scenes come back to sight, all vivid and distinct, as if

they were painted in light upon our closed eyelids. He made a

happiness for himself where none other was to be found; and if it was

a weakness, be it remembered he was but man.

Nothing was, indeed, wanting to mere corporeal comfort, except

freedom. A well-served table was provided for him; one of the

Elector's servants attended to all that could lighten his captivity;

his clothes, some books, and a lute were brought up in the course of

the day; and a small hand-bell was placed upon a table that he might

have the means of summoning attendance when he needed it. His page,

indeed, was not admitted; and no one visited his chamber after the

hour of dinner, but once when he rang. His thoughts, however, had by

this time chosen their own course. He read little; he touched not the

instrument of music; but, seated near the window, he gazed out; and

thought while, wandering slowly round to the west, the bright summer

sun presented the scene beneath, in the same warm light of evening

which had flooded valley and plain and gilt mountain and castle, when

he had seen it from the Altan with Agnes Herbert. Her image mingled

with the whole, and the prospect was not the less sweet to his eyes

for the associations with which memory enriched the view.

CHAPTER III.

The sun set; the beams of the departed orb spread up from behind the

mountains of the Haardt over the whole wide expanse of the cloudless

heaven; and, from the golden verge of the horizon to the glowing

crimson of the zenith, a broad sheet of varied colouring stretched

unbroken, hue melting into hue, so that the eye could not detect where

one tint blended with another. It changed, too, with each passing

minute; the golden verge grew red; blue mingled with the crimson

overhead; then came a shade of grey; and then looked out a star, like

hope to cheer the heart on the departure of some bygone joy. At length

the twilight succeeded to the warm sunset; and stream, and valley, and

mountain, and plain grew faint and soft under the prisoner's sight;

while his chamber became full of shadows; and many of the bright

fancies, which had cheered the day, passed away with the declining

light, as if they had been the creatures of the sunshine.

His thoughts were becoming gloomy, when suddenly he heard the key turn

in the lock, and then a light knock at the door.

"Come in!" he cried; and the next moment it was opened. But Algernon

Grey could scarcely believe his eyes; for in the dim light he saw a

woman's form and garments; and heart, more than sight, told him who it

was.

Starting up with a quick and joyful movement, he advanced to meet her;

but Agnes only entered a few steps, and that with an air of timid

hesitation.

"My uncle has sent me to you," she said, giving him her hand, as he

came near; "and I am very glad indeed to have any means of showing my

gratitude for all that you have done for me. It is but little that I

can do, but still a walk in the quiet evening air will refresh and

calm you; and I trust," she added, laying the tips of her small taper

fingers on his arm, "that it may tend to soothe the indignation which,

I am sure, you must feel at the treatment you have received."

"Indeed, dear lady," answered Algernon Grey, "I feel none."

"Then I feel it for you," answered Agnes, warmly; "I should feel more,

indeed, did I not know that it is all weakness, rather than injustice.

They fear that fierce old man and his rash son, otherwise this would

not have taken place; and for that reason it is that I am obliged to

take this unfit hour to give you whatever little liberty I can. But

you must promise me," she added, in a timid and imploring tone, "to

return when it is time. My uncle told me to exact such an engagement.

He could not come himself; for he has been all the evening with the

Elector on business of importance, planning new defences to the place;

and so he made me your gaoler--sad, yet pleasant task. But you will

return, will you not?"

Algernon Grey took her hand again and pressed it in his own. "Whenever

you wish it," he replied.

"Nay, not when I wish it," answered Agnes; "that would never be; for,

could my wishes avail aught, you would not be here at all."

"Well, then, when you ask me," said the young gentleman.

"No, not so either," she replied; "I should never have the heart to

ask you. Even in my youngest and most thoughtless days, I could not

make a prisoner of a poor bird. How much less, then, of one who has

saved my life. I value freedom too much to do so. It must be for you

to decide. You shall return when it is right, and you shall be the

judge."

"I will then," answered Algernon Grey; "and now let us forth, for I

confess I feel the air of imprisonment very heavy; and the lock of

yonder door, which my fair turnkey has left unguardedly open, is a

chain upon my spirits."

"No, not unguardedly," replied Agues; "but I was quite sure that, for

my sake, you would not take a step beyond without permission, when I

came to see you. Oh, I know you right well, noble sir. Your conduct to

me last night was a whole history; I need no farther insight."

"Indeed," said Algernon Grey, taking his hat from the table as she

moved a step or two towards the door; "if you knew my history, it is a

strange one; but still I think you read it right, if you judge that in

nothing I would abuse your trust."

"I am sure of it," she said, leading the way into the ante-room.

Two guards were seated there on duty; but the lady's presence seemed a

passport; and they made no opposition to the prisoner's exit, only

rising as he and Agnes passed.

The moment that the top of the stairs was reached, a change seemed to

come over the fair girl's demeanour. So long as she had been in the

apartments of the prisoner, a timid sort of hesitation seemed to hang

about her, restraining her words and even her movements; but the

instant she had passed the door of his prison, her heart and spirit

were unchained again.

"Not down there, not down there," she cried; "you are ignorant of the

castle and its manifold turnings and windings. I will lead you through

it, and try to cheer you as we go. Here, turn to the left;" and taking

her way along a narrow passage, through the tall windows of which

streamed a pale and uncertain light, she walked on, till a short

staircase of five or six steps led them down to a broad balcony,

running along the face of the western part of the building, and

looking down into the court. Here she paused for a moment, and

Algernon Grey took his place by her side, gazing thoughtfully at the

number of servants and officers who were still crossing and recrossing

the open space below, like so many ants on their busy labours.

"This castle and the sights that it presents," said Agnes, after a

moment's meditation, "always make me more or less thoughtful at every

moment when one has time for thought. There, on the right, is what

they call the Rupert's building, the oldest part of the castle, it is

said; and I know not why, but I cannot look at its ornamented windows,

and rich arches, without thinking of all the changes that have taken

place in this small spot since it was raised. See, how busily they go

along, and how gaily too, as if there had never been any others

before, or would come others after."

"And they are right," answered Algernon Grey. "Why should men lose the

happiness of the moment by thinking of its short duration? A certain

portion of life only is given to each human being; and, so to enjoy

that portion that our acts shall stain no part with regret, and shall

lay up no store of vengeance against us for the future, is, methinks,

the wisest policy, as well as the truest religion."

"And do you think so, too?" Agnes, turning suddenly towards him with a

bright smile; "I am glad of it; for sometimes I am inclined, when I

have heard a grave discourse of worldly vanities and mortal pleasures,

to think myself no better than a butterfly or a bird, because I am so

happy in my little day of sunshine. We have men here, who speak so

hardly of the brevity of mortal existence, that I cannot but think

that they feel dissatisfied so small a portion is allowed them."

"When I hear such men," answered Algernon Grey, "and there are many of

them all over the world, they leave a very different impression on my

mind from that which they expect to produce. They can have very little

confidence in an everlasting future, who dwell so mournfully upon the

shortness of the present. To enjoy God's blessings, and, from the

heart, to thank Him for all, is to honour Him by the best sacrifice we

can offer--at least, so it seems to me; and we may be right sure that,

when we can thank him from the heart, we have not enjoyed amiss."

"I think so too," answered Agnes; "at all events, I know one thing,

that though I would strive to bear all misfortunes without repining,

yet, when I am happy, I ever feel the most grateful sense of the

goodness and mercy of God. But let us come on; and mark that building

there, that one with the stony escutcheon on the front; you can

scarcely see it, I think, in this dim light; but some day I will tell

you a story about it. It is too sad a one for to-night. Let us pass

down here; and then, turning to the left again, I will lead you

through the chapel."

As the way was now broader than before, Algernon Grey drew his fair

companion's arm through his own, turning as she directed him; and, but

for that light touch and that sweet companionship, his walk might have

been gloomy enough; for the light faded rapidly as they went on. The

long dim passages seemed damp and chilly, even in that summer evening.

The moon had not yet risen, but there was sufficient light in the sky

to throw deeper shadows from the columns of masonry upon the faint

grey gleam, which still illuminated one side of the halls and

corridors in the neighbourhood of the western casements. Agnes,

however, was near him; her hand rested gently on his arm; her eyes

were turned to his from time to time, as if seeking the expression

which gave point to his words. And Algernon Grey was happy; for he

felt as if the dreams he had been indulging were realized; and yet he

knew at his heart, that the realization was little better than a dream

likewise. But he would not give way to sad thoughts; for he remembered

that he should have time for plenty of them in his captivity; and the

new philosophy, to which he had given way, taught him to enjoy.

"Shall we see our way across the chapel?" said Agnes, at length,

pushing open a small door at the end of a long passage after

descending a few steps, and looking into a wide and splendid aisle

beyond.

"Oh yes," cried Algernon Grey, "there is plenty of light;" and, taking

a step forward, he led her in. The air was very dim; but yet he could

see that, except the architectural decorations, the building was

destitute of all ornament.

There is something, however, in the very atmosphere of a place

destined for the purposes of prayer, which brings a feeling of awe and

solemn meditation upon the heart. Here the petitions of thousands have

ascended day after day to the throne of grace. Here the Almighty has

promised to be present in the midst of the two or three who seek Him

faithfully; here have been all the struggles, that bare themselves

before the Almighty eye; here the consolation and the hope derived

from the pure source of Almighty beneficence. A crowd of grand

associations, of mercies sought and benefits received, rush upon the

mind and fill it with devotion.

Algernon Grey felt it strongly then, as--with that fair being by his

side, whom he had protected, comforted, saved--whom he loved, in spite

of reason, in spite of resolution, in spite of every effort,--he

walked slowly up the nave, till he stood with her before the altar.

Then what thoughts were they that came thick upon his mind? What

memories, what visions--dark and bright mingling together, black as

night and brilliant as the dawn? Whatever were the emotions in Agnes's

heart, her hand slowly fell from his arm; and he suffered it to drop.

How or why, he knew not; but by an impulse, gentle, yet irresistible,

he took it; and there they stood for a moment before that altar, hand

in hand. He felt his fingers clasping upon hers more tightly; and,

afraid of himself, of his own heart, of his own fate, he drew her arm

once more through his, and led her with a deep, heavy sigh, to an open

door, through which a faint gleam was streaming.

There was a lamp in the passage beyond; and, by its light, they passed

through the northern mass of the building, and mounted the steps to

the Altan. The stars were now shining forth in exceeding splendour;

each bright spot in Charles's wane twinkling like a living diamond in

the deep blue sky; and the small pole-star glistening high above,

fixed and immoveable, like a constant mind, while the others whirled

round it in never-ceasing change.

"Ay, this feels like freedom indeed," said Algernon Grey. "I know not

how it is, dear lady, but the sensation of liberty is never so strong

upon me, as in one of these bright clear nights. During the day, there

is a sort of oppressive bondage in the world and the world's thoughts

and doings--in the busy multitudes that float about--in the very hum

of tongues, and the sight of moving masses of mankind, which seems to

cramp and confine the spirit within us. But here, with that profound,

unlimited vault above, the wide air all around, and the far-off stars

twinkling at immeasurable distances through space, the heart has room

to beat; and the soul, upon the wings of thought, wanders unfettered

through the infinite creation."

"I love not crowds either," answered Agnes; "and yet it is pleasant to

me that I have my fellow-creatures near--perhaps it is a woman's

feeling, springing from her weakness; but still I would rather not be

free, if I were to be all alone on earth. Not that I do not often love

solitude and to be afar from the multitude; but still, a wild ramble

over a mountain top, or a gallop over a wide open moor, is enough for

my small range; and, like the lark, after I have taken my flight and

sung my song, I am ever ready to fold my wings and sink to earth

again."

The image pleased her companion; he thought it very like her; and in

such conversation passed more than an hour, till the round edge of the

yellow moon was seen rising above the fringed forest, and spreading

new lustre over the sky.

"Here comes our fair and bountiful companion of last night," said

Algernon Grey; "I will see her rise into the sky before I go; but

then, to show how moderate and discreet I am, and to encourage you to

give me some more hours of liberty hereafter, I will tell my fair

gaoler that I am ready to return to my prison."

"Strange," said Agnes, looking up in his face with a smile, and

leaning a little more heavily upon his arm, "strange that it is I who

must ask the prisoner to remain at large for a while; but you know not

that you have a visit this night to make, to one, who will thank you

on Agnes Herbert's account, for all you did last night."

"Your uncle," asked Algernon Grey.

"No," replied Agnes; "it is to a lady, a kind and noble one. The

Electress Louisa, she is anxious to see you, and bade me bring you to

her whenever I hear her bell ring. It will not be long first; there

she sits in that room, where the lights are shining through the open

windows; and when she thinks that the bustle of the day is fully over

in the castle, she will give us notice."

"She loves you much, I doubt not," answered Algernon Grey. "'Tis

strange to find here one of my own fair countrywomen, domiciled in a

different land, and so linked with a foreign race. There can be no

relationship, surely, between you and this Palatine house?"

"The Electress calls me cousin," answered Agnes with a smile, at the

half-put question; "but it is a far and not easily traced

relationship. Mine is a strange history, my noble deliverer; but,

doubtless, every one's is strange, if we knew it all--yours, you say,

as well as mine?"

"Most strange," answered Algernon Grey; "and if we meet often, I must

tell it to you--Yes, I will," he repeated in a low murmur, as if

speaking to himself; but then added, "not now, not now, I cannot tell

it now."

"Whatever it is," said Agnes, "I am sure it will show nought but

honour and high deeds on your part--I have had proofs of it; and as

you, like other men, have mingled in the world, your story will be,

doubtless, one of action; while mine is more the history of my race

than of myself, for I have done nought and suffered little in this

life. Spoiled by kind friends; supported, protected, and left to

follow my own will--often, perhaps, a wayward one--reverses, as yet, I

have not known; no strong emotions, either of grief or joy, have

visited my breast; and the part of life already gone has lapsed away

like a morning dream in pleasant but faint images, scarce worthy the

remembrance. You shall tell me your history, if you will; but I cannot

promise yet to be as sincere, mine being, as I have said, the history

of others rather than my own."

"I will tell mine, nevertheless," answered Algernon Grey. "It were

better that one, at least, should know it."

As he spoke, they heard a bell ring; and Agnes exclaimed, "That is the

signal of the Electress. Now come with me;" and, leading the way into

the castle again, she ascended a long spiral staircase in one of the

small towers, and then, proceeding along a well lighted corridor, she

passed the top of a broad flight of steps exactly opposite to a large

door surmounted by a gilt coronet. A few steps farther on, entered a

small room on the right, where, to the right again, was seen another

door apparently leading into the chamber, one entrance of which they

had already passed. Here Agnes paused and knocked; and a sweet voice

from within instantly answered, "Come in, dear child." The lady then

opened the door, and, beckoning Algernon Grey to follow, advanced into

the room, which I have already described as the scene of Agnes's

interview with the Electress Dowager in the morning.

With a calm and stately step, and his fine thoughtful eyes bent

forward on the face of the Electress, Algernon Grey came after his

fair conductor at the distance of a few steps. Louisa Juliana gazed at

him steadily for an instant, and then bent her head with a dignified

air, as Agnes presented him to her.

"Be seated, sir," she said, pointing to a chair near; "and you, my

sweet cousin, come hither beside me. Here is your accustomed place."

Algernon Grey took the seat she assigned him; and, leaning his arm

with easy grace over the back, he turned towards the Electress, whilst

she proceeded to say, "I have first, sir, to offer you my thanks for

your gallant, I might almost call it, heroic conduct last night, in

saving the life of my sweet cousin here, who is as dear to me as if

she were my child. Accept them, therefore, I beg; and believe me, it

is with pain I find my son has thought himself called upon to deprive

you of your liberty for a less fortunate event."

"I merit no thanks, your Highness," answered Algernon Grey; "I have

but done that which any man of good breeding, not a coward, would do

in similar circumstances; nor can I even claim the lady's gratitude;

for when I went to give her aid, I really knew not who she was. I will

not deny, indeed, that the pleasure of the act was more than doubled,

when I found who was the object of it; but surely, a thing which

affords such great satisfaction to the giver, deserves no thanks from

the receiver. 'Tis done for his own pleasure; and his own pleasure be

his reward."

"It would be a harsh doctrine on any other lips but yours," replied

the Electress Dowager, while Agnes shook her head with a smile; "nor

can I admit," continued Louisa Juliana, "that every man of good

breeding, not a coward, would do the same. I fear much, my noble young

friend, that, pick all the world, you would not find ten such. We have

a sad proof of it--you were the only one who went to her rescue."

"I was more near than any one," answered Algernon Grey; "so, still,

that is no title, lady; however, I am well pleased it has been as it

is."

"The men, who do best service," answered the Electress, "are always

those who require least thanks. I have found it so through life.--But

now I have other things to speak of."

Agnes rose as if she would have withdrawn; but the Electress stopped

her, saying, "Stay, stay, my child; you shall be of our counsel; I

know that I can trust you."

Agnes reseated herself in silence, but looked somewhat anxiously to

the face of Algernon Grey, with feelings upon which we must pause for

a moment. She was a very young diplomatist. She had not learned the

art of that craft, as it was practised in those days--I trust less in

the present--and she was not aware, that to deceive a friend or

benefactor, to lead one who has aided and assisted us, into a

dangerous and difficult position, is a stroke of skill, and not a mark

of baseness. A sudden doubt came over her, lest the questions which

the Electress was about to put--lest even the visit to her apartments

might be painful and unpleasant to him who had ventured life to save

her; and, though she saw not how she could have escaped from such a

task, she was very sorry that she had undertaken it. After one brief

glance then, she withdrew her eyes, and remained gazing at some

objects on the table, till the voice of the Electress, speaking after

a somewhat long pause, roused her, and she listened.

"You have come from England, sir, very lately, I think," said Louisa

Juliana, fixing her eyes upon Algernon Grey.

"Not so, your Highness," replied the young gentleman; "I have been

absent from my native land, now, for a long time, frequenting the

various courts of Europe, and studying the manners of other nations.

On my way back, I received letters at Genoa, which made me resolve to

remain some time longer out of England; but I have not seen aught of

it for more than five years."

"Methinks you are very young," said the Electress, "to be such a

traveller. Doubtless you have forgotten all about the court of

England."

"Oh, no," replied Algernon Grey; "I may be older than I seem; but

certainly was not young enough when I departed, to forget aught that

was worth remembering."

"'Tis a strange court," continued Louisa Juliana; "and yet, to say

truth, all courts are strange. Do you know the king?"

The question was somewhat abrupt; but the young Englishman replied

immediately: "Oh, yes, I know him well, without being one of the

minions or the favourites of the court."

"And, doubtless, have been trusted by him?" rejoined the Electress, in

a sort of catechising tone--"he is a wise and witty monarch."

"I know not any mark of trust that he has ever given me," replied

Algernon Grey; "and his courtiers give him right good cause to be

witty as well as to be vain. I have always remarked, that where there

is much of this lip-service there is little real loyalty, and that

downfalls are preceded by the most servile adulation of power. I trust

it may not be so in our day."

"You doubt it," replied the Electress; "and I think it may be so; for

I always doubt it, too. This court is full of flatterers as well as

yours. They would persuade my son that he is a god, as they persuade

your monarch that he is a Solomon. Fortunately, fate holds out no

offer to King James of another crown; and even if it did, he would

never stretch forth a hand to reach it. Here we are in a different

position. The diadem of Bohemia, which beyond all doubt will be

offered to the Elector in a few days, will find, I fear, a more

ambitious candidate, and one who may not calculate so well the means

to the end."

Algernon Grey was silent; for he felt that the subject was a difficult

one to speak upon; but, after waiting for a few moments, the Electress

added: "What say you, is it not so?"

"Really, your Highness, I cannot answer," replied her visitor; "I have

never spoken with the Elector on the subject--I have only seen him

once."

Louisa Juliana gazed at him steadfastly, and then said, with a smile:

"Come, come, Master Grey, let us be candid with each other. Thus

stands the case. The Elector is wealthy, powerful in his own

dominions, doubtless, a wise and warlike Prince, but at the same time

to grasp and hold a crown requires a ruthlessness which he does not

possess. What is the Palatinate pitted against the empire? What can

give even the seeming of success to such a struggle, except potent and

immediate foreign aid.--Will your king give it, Master Grey?"

"Really, your Highness, I cannot tell," answered Algernon, a good deal

surprised at the lady's tone.

"Methinks not," continued Louisa Juliana. "He is a wise, but most

pacific king; wasting in subtleties those powers of mind, and in

pageantry and revelling those vast material resources, which are most

needful to keep a turbulent and energetic people under even wholesome

rule, which, wisely employed, would be successful, but which, thus

foolishly squandered, will leave a debt that nought but the best blood

in the land can wipe out.--Forgive me, Master Grey, that I thus speak

of your sovereign; but see, what does he do now in my son's case? What

energy, what activity does he display in behalf of his own child?"

"But small, I fear, madam," answered Algernon Grey; "but, perhaps, if

he see danger menace, he may do more.--However, I know so little of

the court of England, that I have no right to form a judgment."

Louisa Juliana shook her head: "You are a diplomatist," she said; "and

for so young a one, a wise one; for I have heard that the chief skill

of that intricate art consists in three negatives: 'Not to know more

than enough; not to say more than enough; and not to see more than

enough.'"

"Indeed, your Highness does me wrong," replied the young Englishman;

"I belong to no such base craft; for I cannot hold the task of

deceiving to be aught than dishonourable, the task of concealing aught

but pitiful. I am no diplomatist, I can assure you; not even of that

better kind, who, like the great Duke of Sully, make it their boast to

frustrate dishonest craft by wise honesty."

"Then you are greatly mistaken here," rejoined the Electress Dowager;

"for every one thinks you have been sent over by King James to see how

the land lies, and give advice or promise of assistance accordingly."

Algernon Grey laughed: "Your Highness will pardon me," he said; "but I

beseech you to believe me, when I tell you, that, a mere boy when I

quitted the court of England, I am recollected there by friends and

enemies, kings and statesmen, but as a mere boy still."

"Hush!" cried the Electress, raising her hand; "some one knocks. See

who it is, my Agnes. I thought we should be free from interruption."

Agnes Herbert ran lightly to the great doors, opened them partly, and,

after speaking a few words to some one without, closed them and

returned, saying in a low voice; "The Elector, madam, with the

counsellor Camerarius, is coming up, and has sent forward a page to

say he wishes to confer with you."

"He must not be found here," cried the Electress, looking at Algernon

Grey; "quick, take him into my dressing-room; then, when you hear that

they are all arrived, lead him down by the great staircase and away

out upon the Altan.--Quick, Agnes, quick!--Adieu, Master Grey; we will

talk farther another night."

With a sign to him whom we now may well call her lover, Agnes ran to

the small door to the left of the Electress, exactly opposite to that

by which they had entered, and threw it open. All was dark beyond; but

Algernon Grey, though he was not fond of such secrecy, followed the

fair girl with an inclination to the Electress Dowager; and, drawing

the door gently to behind them, Alice took his hand, saying:--"I will

guide you; but we most open this other door a little, to know when

they pass;" and, advancing a step or two, she opened a chink of the

door, which seemed to lead out upon the great corridor at the top of

the stairs.

In a few moments, the sound of footsteps reached them, and a voice

speaking, which Algernon Grey recollected well as that of the Elector.

They heard the great doors thrown open and closed again; and then the

young Englishman whispered:--"We can go now, I think."

"Hush!" replied Agnes; "there is some one going down the steps." The

next instant a round, fat, but somewhat cracked voice was heard to

exclaim:--"So you have caged the birds, Joachim.--Now let us wait here

and watch till they take flight again; and I will instruct thee in the

sciences of courts."

"More likely to instruct one in the science of pottle pots and great

tuns," answered a younger voice.

"It is the fool and the page," whispered Agnes, "waiting on the

landing five or fix steps down. How shall we get out?"

"Cannot we go by the staircase which led us hither?" rejoined Algernon

Grey.

"We must cross the top of the great staircase," answered Agnes;

"and they can see up to the very door. We had better wait where we

are.--Hark! they are speaking in the other room; we must keep as still

as death."

Algernon Grey made no reply, but remained standing close beside her;

and in the silence they preserved, a great part of the double

conversation that went on, in the chamber of the Electress Dowager,

and on the landing of the stairs was distinctly audible to the ears of

the young pair. A part, indeed, was lost, or conveyed very little

meaning; but what was heard, for some time made a strange medley of

ceremonious courtesy and broad vulgarity, questions of policy and

absurd jest. Sometimes this extraordinary cross reading turned

epigrammatically, sometimes gave the most curious counter-sense; and

it was difficult to ascertain at all times whence the voices

proceeded, so as to know whether the reply was addressed to the

sentence just heard before, or to one that preceded and had been lost.

"I know right well, counsellor Camerarius, what are your opinions, and

on what they are founded," were the first words audible. But

immediately a merry but coarse voice said:--"Eleven bottles of sack a

day, a gold chain and a fool's cap are no things to be lightly

respected, Master Joachim."

"But hear me, your Highness," said another voice, "you, I know, are

always amenable to reason, and you must not prejudge me, nor suppose

that I am biassed by ordinary motives."

"If what a fool thinks were to guide men of reason," said another

tongue; "a fool's cap and bells would be as good as the crown of

Bohemia."

"We must discuss this question, dearest mother, without passion or

prejudice," was the next sentence; "great interests are at stake, your

son's, the Protestant religion, the liberty of Germany,--"

"The great tun of Heidelberg brimful of wine," exclaimed the juicy

tongue of the jester, "would not drown the gabbling of a page; he

would still shout from the bottom of the vat and make empty bubbles on

the top, as full of noise as a petard.--"

"Nothing more is wanting to shatter the whole constitution of this

empire," Camerarius was heard to say, "than disunion amongst the

Protestant princes, the fall of that kingdom which has first raised

the voice against tyranny, oppression, and superstition, and the

rejection of a preferred crown by the only sovereign prince who is

qualified to guide the march of events by power, talent, and

influence."

"Give me reason and a good supper," said the page.

"But have you an offer thereof?" asked the Electress.

"If I had the rule, you should have none," said the jester, "but a

good whipping and a book to read."

"The sceptre of Bohemia."

"A fig for your bauble."

"A coxcomb against a page's feather."

"At the feet of your Highness's son, with all the advantages, which--"

"The König's-stool and the Heiligberg upon your head for a mad ape;

you have untrussed my jerkin and let my fat out."

"No motives of personal ambition, no hope or expectation of renown,

nay, not even the voice of an oppressed people would induce me,

dearest mother."

"Though the gods and goddesses were to come down upon earth to wash

themselves in the fountains of the gardens, you would still be an ass

and drink deep to the increase of your carcass, and the perdition of

your soul."

"Notwithstanding which, the voice of the people of Bohemia is not to

go for nothing; and, when added to that, is the maintenance of the

Protestant religion in merely its just rights and liberties--"

"A whoreson varlet with legs like a blacksmith's tongs; feet like the

ace of diamonds, and shoulders vastly too intimate with his ears."

"Those who could advise the prince to give a decided refusal to such

an appeal--"

But here Algernon Grey called off the attention of his fair companion

from the curious conversation which they overheard, by gently touching

her hand and saying:--"Methinks, we must listen to this no longer,

sweet lady."

"How can we avoid it?" rejoined Agnes in a whisper. "To close either

of the doors now, would be worse than to risk and go boldly down the

stairs."

"Then let us go boldly," answered Algernon Grey. "It were better to

risk anything personally, methinks, than to overhear what is evidently

not intended for our ears."

"You are right," said Agnes, "you are right--I only feared--but no

matter for personal fears; they shall not stop me from doing what I

ought. Let us come, then;" and advancing a step, she opened the door

upon the corridor and went out.

There was a large lamp suspended opposite to the door of the Electress

Dowager, casting a full light upon the stairs. In the corner of the

landing, leaning with one leg cast over the other, was a fat, short,

red-faced man, dressed in the motley garb of the fools of those days;

while, opposite to him, lolling against the balustrade, was a lad of

some sixteen or seventeen years of age, habited in the splendid

costume of the Electoral pages. Advancing straight towards them, and

descending the stairs with a calm countenance, Algernon Grey passed on

side by side with Agnes Herbert. The page moved and drew himself up,

doffing his bonnet as they went by; but the jester, with the usual

license of his calling, remained in his corner unmoved, shutting one

eye and fixing the other keen grey orb upon the lady with an

inquisitive stare. The moment she and her companion had passed,

however, he stuck his tongue into his cheek and winked knowingly to

the page, who replied merely by a low laugh.

"What will come of it, Master Joachim?" asked the jester, after a

pause.

"Nay, I know not," replied the youth; "love and marriage, I suppose."

"Nay, love won't come," said the jester; "for he is there already; and

marriage may come, or may not, as the gods will have it; but, if I

were pretty Mrs. Agnes Herbert, I would take that long fellow to the

buttery, and give him a toast and two or three bottles of Burgundy

wine. She is afraid of doing so, for fear of being found out; but,

methinks, it would be the seal of matrimony, which Heaven send her

speedily; for the walking about in the passages of this old castle is

somewhat like to chill the little god, Cupid's brother, who is known

to be rather aguish."

In the mean while Agnes and Algernon Grey walked on and passed through

the lower part of the castle, and upon the Altan again. There she

paused with a momentary hesitation; for she felt how sweet a thing

liberty must be to her companion, and she could not find it in her

heart to say that it was time to return to his prison. Did any

personal feelings mingle with her reluctance? Was she unwilling to

part with him so soon? Who ever felt a joy that was not grieved to

lose it? and Agnes Herbert had been very happy by the side of Algernon

Grey.

He saved her the pain of speaking, however, by divining her thoughts

ere they were told.

"Methinks, dearest lady," he said, "that it must be time for me to

return, and for you to go to other occupations, though your kind heart

will not tell me so. Let us on towards my tower, however. My heartfelt

thanks are due for the alleviation you have given me, and I would not

for the world mingle one pain with the pleasure you must feel in such

an act."

"My only pain," replied Agnes, walking on beside him, "is, that you

must return at all. The Electress Dowager, I think, may call for me

again, or I would say, stay longer."

They were not long ere they reached the foot of the stairs leading up

to the place of Algernon's imprisonment--it seemed to him, indeed,

marvellously short--and there he stopped to bid her farewell for the

night. True, he might have done so as well above; but there the guards

tenanted the ante-chamber; and feelings which he would not own to

himself made him unwilling to have witnesses to his parting with her.

"Farewell, dear lady," he said, pressing her hand in his; "if you

could tell the relief and pleasure you have afforded the poor

prisoner, your heart would, I am sure, rejoice.--Nay, I feel that it

does, though you cannot know from experience how tedious the hours of

captivity are. Thanks--a thousand thanks--for the solace of the free

air, rendered trebly bright by your sweet company."

"You have no thanks to give," she answered, leaving her hand in his;

"do I not owe you everything? and, surely, a few hours from the life

you have saved is but a poor offering for a grateful heart to make.

To-morrow night, at the same hour, I know I may promise to come again,

and perhaps my uncle will come with me. Till then, I must bid you

adieu. Sleep well; and pleasant dreams be yours."

He still held her hand for a moment--he still gazed upon that fair and

beaming face by the pale light of the lamp that hung upon the

staircase, and sensations he could hardly master rose in his bosom.

They frightened him, and, breaking suddenly the spell that held him,

he turned and mounted to the chamber, where sat the men on guard.

There, came another adieu, colder in seeming but not less warm in

truth; and, entering, he himself closed the door. He heard her hand

laid upon the key; but it did not turn, and the next instant her sweet

voice reached his ear, somewhat trembling in tone, as she said to one

of the guards--"Here, come and lock it--I cannot."

"Why, it goes as easy as a wheel," answered the man, advancing with a

heavy foot; and the next moment the door was locked.

Agnes trod her way back with a slow and thoughtful step towards the

corridor of the apartments of the Electress Dowager; but at the foot

of the stairs she met her uncle Herbert, and the keen eye of affection

soon discovered that, from some cause, he was agitated, though he

endeavoured to maintain his usual equable mien.

"What is the matter?" she said, clinging to his arm; "you are

disturbed--I see it in your eyes."

"'Tis nothing, my Agnes," he said, "nothing. So you have given your

prisoner his little holiday. How did he comport himself?"

"He enjoyed it much," answered Agnes: "in his calm and serious manner,

he showed as much pleasure as I hoped he would feel."

"Ay, but to you, my child," asked Herbert, "was there any difference

this night?"

"Exactly the same as ever," replied the beautiful girl, with a gay

smile; "banish all fears and doubts. Indeed, indeed, you may. I

thought they were gone for ever; for I know that such things linger

not in your heart; and when once you trust, you trust implicitly. You

may trust here--on him--on me; for not one word has ever passed our

lips that the whole world might not listen to."

"'Tis well," said her uncle, thoughtfully, "'tis well--I do trust."

"Nay, but all is not well, I am sure," rejoined Agnes; "something has

troubled you."

"Nothing but the words of a fool," answered Herbert; "and I am a fool

for being troubled by them. Yet something must be done to set this

matter right. Listen, dear one; I met, just now, that mischievous

idiot, the Elector's droll.--How is it that men of common sense can

find delight in the malicious drivelling of a lackwitted knave like

that? He spoke with mockery of my Agnes--said he had seen her taking

love's walk, which is a crooked one, forth from the bedchamber next

the Dowager Electress' hall, down to the pleasure gardens, and bade me

look well to my pretty bird, as he called you. What more he said, I

need not repeat. One cannot strike an idiot, or I had felled him."

Agnes laughed gaily. "Nay, nay," she said; "he has but proved himself

more fool than ever."

"Laugh not, Agnes, in your young innocence," answered Herbert; "no

woman's name must be lightly spotted. You know not that the slightest

foul mark upon a pure reputation remains for ever, breeding doubts and

suspicions impossible to be removed. I'll tell you what, my child, I

must have done;--for it shall never be said that with my will you ever

did aught you were ashamed to acknowledge. I know that the Princess

bade you bring him to her, though why you passed through that room I

cannot divine; but now you shall go to the Electress Dowager, and tell

her the history; you shall petition for leave to speak the exact truth

of how and why you were seen coming from that room with the prisoner.

You will obtain it, I doubt not; but if she should refuse, I must

speak to her myself; for this may rest as a stain upon you, my child;

and it must not be. So well do I know you, Agnes, that I say boldly

and fearlessly, do anything you will, provided it be that which you

can explain to the whole world, when it becomes necessary. But, at the

same time, I warn you, dear one, never do aught that you cannot

explain; for diplomacy is not a lady's trade; and, if it be dangerous

in the hands of a man, it is fatal in those of a woman."

"I will go to the Electress, at once," answered Agnes; "for although,

so far as I am personally concerned, I would scoff at all idle

rumours, yet were they to give you pain, it would be no matter to be

scoffed at."

"Go, Agnes, go," rejoined Herbert. "It is better, both for you and for

me; when you have once the power of explaining all, I care not for

aught else. Idle rumours affect me not, Agnes; and fools may talk and

babble as they please; but doubtful circumstances, unaccounted for,

must not affect you, my child."

"I go, then," replied Agnes; and, mounting the stairs, she hurried to

the apartments of the Electress Dowager.

CHAPTER IV.

There was a lamp lighted in the chamber to which Algernon Grey

returned. He found the room neatly ordered, as if care and attention

had been bestowed upon it; and, in a few minutes after his return, a

servant entered, bearing materials for a meal such as prisoners seldom

taste. The man set it down and retired in silence; but Algernon Grey

left the supper untouched. For nearly a quarter of an hour he strode

up and down the room in deep thought; and then, breaking off suddenly,

he said, "I will go to bed and sleep. What need of troubling my mind

with things that may never occur? Am I to cast away every enjoyment of

this mortal life, for fear of their remote consequences? No, I will

guard my heart firmly; I will rule my conduct strictly; but I will not

debar myself of my sole solace, for fear it should become too sweet. I

will go and sleep, and these gloomy visions will take their flight

before the morning."

Accordingly, proceeding into the other room, he undressed and went to

bed. Neither did sleep refuse to visit his eyelids; for there are few

things more wearing and wearisome than the dull lapse of solitary

hours to an active and energetic mind; but his slumber was not calm;

it was not of that soft and balmy kind which visits the pillow of

careless childhood; nor was it chequered with those light gay dreams

which hover over the bed of hopeful youth. Visions he had many; but

they were all more or less dark, all more or less troubled; and the

same forms and features were in each. Two female figures were ever

present, and one was Agnes Herbert. But, as I have already touched

this theme, I will not pause here to enter into the details of all

that imagination and memory suggested to the sleeping brain. Suffice

it, that he slept without repose; and that agitated feelings, running

masterless in unreasoning slumber, wore both body and mind, even

during the hours of rest.

He woke on the following morning languid and unrefreshed; and, if he

had lain down somewhat gloomy in his thoughts, the next morning found

him sadder and less tranquil still.

The heavy hours rolled slowly on, and nothing occurred throughout the

morning to break the dull monotony of his imprisonment. The servant

brought in the meals, arranged the rooms, and showed towards him every

sort of civility and attention. But still it was not there that

Algernon Grey could find companionship, and but few words passed, the

young gentleman still speaking first, and receiving but brief and

insignificant answers in return. The sight even of a human face, it is

true, was pleasant to him; but yet it seemed each time that the man

came and went as if his momentary presence and quick departure but

added to his heaviness of heart.

He longed for somebody with whom he could converse--any one, it

mattered not whom; and he looked eagerly for his cousin's promised

visit; but that day William Lovet came not. It is true his

conversation had a great deal in it more irritating than pleasant to

the ears of Algernon Grey; but yet there was something in

companionship, something in old associations and mutual habits of

thought which he fancied would be a relief; and he felt disappointment

as the moments flew, and he saw him not.

Perhaps there might be a desire to fly from other ideas--to rid his

mind of reflection upon matters on which he did not wish it to rest;

but as evening came on, and with it that change of light which,

without diminishing the lustre of day, softens and saddens it, thought

would have way; and Agnes Herbert was again the theme, resolution

contending with affection, and an honourable spirit with a warm and

ardent heart. He asked himself, "What am I feeling? What am I doing?"

And to both--though seemingly very simple questions--he found it

difficult to reply. The difficulty existed in the subtlety of man's

heart; for skilful, indeed, must he be, and well experienced in the

ways of that dark and intricate labyrinth, who can find the path to

the arcanum at once. And yet he remembered his sensations towards

Agnes when he had stood with her in the chamber adjoining that of the

Electress; when her hand touched his; when, bending down his head to

hear her whispered words, he felt her warm fragrant breath fan his

cheek like that of the spring wind. Could he not have thrown his arms

around her, and clasped her to his beating breast, and pressed warm

kisses on those sweet lips, and asked her to be his--his for ever?

Could he not at that moment have poured forth, as from a gushing

fountain, the full tide of first and passionate love, bearing all

before it on its fierce and eager course? He felt that he could; he

felt that he had escaped a great peril; and he asked himself: "Should

he risk the same again? Should he madly run into the same strong and

terrible temptation? If he did, was it not improbable that any

circumstances would arise anew to strengthen and support him; that any

means of escape, that any happy accident would present itself to

enable or lead him to fly from the immediate danger?"

"It is madness to put it to the hazard," he thought. "No, I will not

go!--I will frame some excuse, not to pain her kind and gentle heart;

and, even if I do show her want of courtesy, it is better than to show

a want of honour."

He paused and pondered long. He thought of what he should do, and what

he should say; he considered how he might best act, so as to avoid the

perilous society, without wounding one whose sole wish was to give him

pleasure. Vain thought! Idle considerations! as they always are with

man. We raise an imaginary scaffold, and then build upon it. Comes

firm reality and knocks it down beneath our feet; the whole structure

falls; and happy is it if our best hopes and brightest happiness are

not crushed in the ruins. The last two hours--they were hours of

meditation--had passed rapidly--far more so than he had imagined. He

had not heard the sound of the clock; he had not marked the rapid

decline of the sun and the steady advance of night. He saw, indeed, or

rather he felt, that darkness spread through the chamber in which he

sat; but he had rung for no lights, and he changed not his position.

He remained fixed with his eyes bent upon the ground, his arm resting

on the back of the chair, and the left hand playing with his empty

sword-belt, not raising a look even towards the window, where the

glowing heaven shone in, radiant with the last smile of day.

In about a quarter of an hour after the key was turned in the lock,

and some one knocked lightly at the door. He knew that it was Agnes's

hand: he felt sure of it before he saw her; and, advancing quickly, he

gave her admission, saying in a mingled tone of joy and sadness:

"Welcome, welcome, dear lady, you are punctual to your hour."

"Not quite," answered Agnes; "but I was detained a little. Your time

of freedom shall not be abridged, however; for we can stay out the

longer--Now, will you come?"

There was a struggle in Algernon Grey's heart; his lips would scarcely

utter the words he had resolved on; and, perhaps, had he not seen, as

they stood together at the door, that the ante-chamber was for the

moment vacant, the restraint which the presence of others always more

or less imposes would at once have turned the balance against

resolution. As it was, however, after a pause he replied: "Nay, dear

lady, you will think me churlish and morose, I fear, when I say, it is

better for me not to go, and, with deep gratitude and heart-felt

thanks, decline your kindness."

"But why?" exclaimed Agnes, gazing on him with surprise; "surely, I

should think it would be a relief."

"And so it is," he answered, "a sweet and joyful one; but that

momentary relief, dear lady, makes me but feel the bitterness of

imprisonment more painfully when it is over. Believe me, it is better

I should stay."

His words, as so frequently happens with words which do not fully

express all the speaker thinks, had quite the contrary effect to that

which he intended. They made Agnes Herbert but the more eager to

comfort and to soothe him, to lighten his hours of solitude, to banish

the dark thoughts that seemed to oppress him; and she answered: "Nay,

come! Do not give way to such gloomy fancies. I will take no denial.

You surely cannot refuse a lady, when she asks your company in a walk

through the free air. I fear you hold my gratitude as little worth;

but this is the only means I have of showing it. I would willingly

come and sit with you and cheer you through the day, if my uncle could

come, too; but the Elector has besought him to hurry forward the new

defences of the castle and the town; and every instant of his time is

employed. Besides, you must come to-night; for I have got news for you

of various kinds; and I cannot stay here to tell them."

Algernon Grey smiled faintly; but his resolution gave way; and taking

Agnes's hand, he pressed his lips upon it, answering: "You are very

kind--too kind; but I must not make you think me ungrateful for such

kindness; therefore I come." At the same moment the guard re-entered

the ante-chamber, and Algernon Grey followed the lady through it, and

descended the stairs with her.

Grown somewhat bolder by custom, the lady led him at once across the

great court, and thence into the gardens of the castle. "Now," she

said, with a gay laugh, "if you had the will to be refractory, who

could stop you from breaking prison? Not this weak hand, I fear."

"But these gardens are all walled round," answered Algernon Grey, "and

hemmed in with the defences and outworks. Methinks it would be no easy

task to make one's escape hence."

"As easy as to sail upon a lake with a light wind and a summer sky,"

answered Agnes gaily. "The ground is all pierced over which we tread,

with subterranean passages leading hither and thither, some to the

mountain, some down into the town.--Did you not see those two obelisks

just now with two half-open doors by the side? Well, they lead

straight into the city; and the first night, when I was wandering with

you through these gardens, you must have remarked a man appear so

suddenly that he startled me. He was some one belonging to the castle,

who had come up by the vaults.--But I must not tell you all these

secrets, lest, finding so many doors of his cage open, the captive

bird should take wing and fly away."

She spoke gaily and lightly; and Algernon Grey replied, "No fear, no

fear, dear lady; you have a stronger hold upon the poor bird than

wires or bars--the chain of honour. No gentleman could so misuse your

trust. But you seem yourself to be well acquainted with all these

secret ways; though, doubtless, they are not much trod by lady's

feet."

"Oh, I have them all in my little head," she answered, "as if upon a

map. My uncle has shown them to me all; for he has a strange sort of

superstition, that some time or another the knowledge may be needful

to me. I know not what he fears or fancies, but so it is; for gloomy

thoughts frequently possess him, and I do not wonder at it. But now I

will tell you my news, and first a silly story about myself; for

women, they say, always like to talk about themselves before all

things. Do you know our adventure last night alarmed my uncle for his

poor child's reputation?"

"How so?" exclaimed Algernon, with a start and feeling of more

apprehension than the lady's words might seem likely to produce; "what

adventure, sweet lady?"

"Oh, our adventure in escaping from the apartments of the Electress

Dowager," Agnes replied. "Do you not remember passing the fool upon

the stairs, and the page? Well, they saw us come forth from the room

on the left; and that fool is as malicious and insolent as he is

drunken. He met my uncle a few minutes after; he thought fit to jest

with my poor name. But I only laughed when I was told; for, methinks,

when the breast is clear and the heart quiet, one may well treat a

fool's ribaldry with scorn. But my uncle took it up more seriously,

and insisted I should ask permission of the Princess to tell the

whole, in case of need. I related to her all that had happened to us,

how we had overheard in the neighbouring chamber part of her

conversation with her son, and how we had determined to confront the

fool and the page upon the stairs rather than listen to more. She said

we had done well, and gave the permission I asked for."

"Did it end there?" asked Algernon Grey; "or has this knave been busy

spreading his scandal?"

"Oh, yes," answered Agnes, "he has; and perhaps it is lucky I obtained

leave to speak; for early this morning the Elector sent for me, and,

with a grave brow, told me I had been seen the night before leading

the English prisoner down from his mother's lodging. I answered simply

enough, 'I know I was, your Highness. The fool and the page both saw

me.' He then asked me what it meant; and I replied, that I had her

Highness's permission to tell him, if he asked, that it was by her

commands that I had brought you thither and led you away again."

"What more, what more?" said Algernon Grey, as the lady paused.

"Why, this intelligence seemed to throw him into a fit of musing,"

continued Agnes; and, at length, he said, "'So, she has discovered him,

too, and his errand;' and then he asked me if I knew who you were; I

answered, 'I had been told your name was Algernon Grey;' and thereupon

he laughed and shook his head; but inquired no further, saying, 'If it

were by his mother's orders, it was well.' Nevertheless, I could see

that he thinks you some great man, and that you come here upon some

secret mission of deep moment. So, henceforth, I shall call you 'my

lord,' and be very ceremonious."

"Nay, nay, not so," answered Algernon Grey, thrown off his guard;

"give me none of such formal titles, sweet lady; from your lips they

would sound very harsh to me."

"Then call me not 'lady' any more," she answered; "none but the

servants here do that. I am the child of the castle, and to those who

know and love me, I am only Agnes."

Algernon Grey felt his heart beat fast; but he had a habit of flying

away from such emotions; and after a single moment's pause, he said,

"I must clear your mind of one impression. The Elector is quite wrong;

and so, I fancy, is the Electress Dowager. Because, for an idle whim,

I and my cousin have pledged ourselves to each other to go through

Europe for a year under false names, they fancy here, I find, that we

have some concealed object, and that I, who never meddled yet with the

intrigues of courts, am charged with some secret mission. I give

you my honour--and by this time, I hope, you know it is to be

trusted--that I have no such task to perform; that I have no state

secrets of any kind; in short, that I am but a simple English

gentleman, travelling hither and thither to while a certain portion of

dull time--"

"Which you heartily wish were over," answered Agnes gaily.

"Not so, upon my life," answered Algernon; "although I deeply love my

country, yet there are matters therein sooner or later to be brought

to issue, which make me long to go on wandering thus, till life and

the journey find their close together, and never more to set my foot

on British shores. But here come sad thoughts again, and I will not

indulge them. You hinted that there was more to be told me. I hope the

rest of the tidings is less bitter; for it is painful for me that your

great kindness, Agnes, should have brought discomfort upon you or your

uncle."

"Oh, to me it is none, and with him it is past; but the rest of my

news will, I am sure, be pleasant to you. You have heard of an

unfortunate duel that was fought," she said, looking up in his face

with a smile which the twilight did not conceal, "between an English

gentleman and the Baron of Oberntraut. You have been sorry for the

young baron, I am sure, and will be glad to hear that to-day he is

much better. His wounds, indeed, seem not to be mortal, as was at

first thought; and these terrible faintings, from several of which

they fancied he would never revive, proceeded solely from great loss

of blood. I hear he was up this afternoon and seated in a chair."

"This is good news, indeed," answered Algernon Grey. "Believe me I did

not seek to wound him, and perilled my own safety to avoid it; till,

at length, in the half-light--for it was then growing dark--I was

obliged to return his attack, seeking to touch him but slightly. He

slipped, however, and was thus more sharply hurt. You too are pleased,

if I judge rightly," he added, gazing down upon her with an inquiring

look; "for methinks that a part of the young baron's wrath against

myself is a sort of retribution for one pleasant evening that I

enjoyed too much with you in these same gardens."

"I trust not," said Agnes, eagerly; "I trust not. He should have known

better. He is a noble, brave, and upright man, generous, and kind in

many things; but still--" and there she paused, as if unwilling to

speak farther.

Two or three minutes of silence had passed, and the hearts of Algernon

Grey and Agnes Herbert were perhaps both busy with feelings somewhat

similar. At length a wild strain of music rose up from the town below,

and they paused on the edge of the great terrace to listen to it.

"A party of young students singing," said the lady. "Do you love

music?"

"I must not say better than aught on earth," replied Algernon Grey;

"but yet if I were to ask for any sort of consolation in hours of

grief and heaviness, I would choose some sweet voice to sing my cares

away. I made my cousin send me up an instrument; but I know not how it

is I have not had the heart to use it."

"Oh, I will sing for you some time or another," answered Agnes; "I

learned from a famous Italian musician who was here, and who said I

was no bad scholar."

"It would be, indeed, a great delight," said Algernon; "but I fear I

must not hope for it as a solace of my imprisonment, if your uncle is

so busily occupied."

Agnes looked down thoughtfully for a moment and then laughed: "I do

not know," she replied; "I do not know; we shall see. I trust your

imprisonment will not be long; and you told me once you were going

away very soon. I must lose no opportunity of showing my deep

thankfulness for what you have done for me. It is little, indeed, that

I can offer. Some men have mines of gold and precious stones, and some

but a garden of poor flowers; but were I a prince, I would not value

less the tribute of the poor man's blossoms, if given with a willing

heart, than that of the great vassal's ore. I do hope that you will

feel the same, and accept all I can do, though it be but small, as a

testimony of what I would do had I greater means."

We need not pursue their conversation farther: for nearly an hour more

it went on in the same strain; and if the resolutions of Algernon Grey

faltered for a moment now and then,--if a tenderer word would fall

from his lips,--yet still, considering the feelings that were at his

heart, he exercised great power over himself. I know not whether it

were better or worse for Agnes, that he did so; for certainly the

calmness of his manner and the careful tone of his language aided her

in deceiving herself as to that which was in her own breast. She

laughed to scorn the thought of love between them. She was grateful,

deeply grateful; and if there was aught more in her bosom, she fancied

it was but a feeling of compassion for one whom she thought wronged by

unjust imprisonment. She could hear him talk as calmly of his

departure, she said to herself, as she could listen to a sermon or a

lecture. She could speak of it herself without one emotion. Was this

like love? Oh, no. She had a deep friendship for him; well she might

have; but that, and gratitude, and compassion, were all. Agnes knew

not what she would have felt had she been called upon to part with him

at that moment. As it was, she went on gaily, like a child treading

the verge of a precipice and gathering flowers upon the edge of

destruction. And when the time of his short liberty was at an end, she

was sorry for it; for it had been a sweet and pleasant time to her.

They parted at the door of his chamber, each with a sigh; and Algernon

Grey paced up and down his solitary room, and, as the moon rose

solemnly over the hills, opened his window and gazed forth as if his

thoughts would be more free with the wide expanse of heaven and earth

before him. The moment after, he heard the sound of an instrument of

music; and turning quickly round to the right he saw the light

streaming forth from an open casement, which, as far as he could

calculate, was near those of the Electress Dowager. He could not see

into the room; but the sweet sounds issued forth upon the night air,

as a skilful hand swept the strings; and a moment after a voice, the

sweet, clear, rounded tones of which he knew right well, poured out a

flood of melody, rising and falling on the ear like the notes of a

nightingale in the spring eventide. The music was not exactly gay; but

yet, every now and then, a cheerful tone enlivened the graver strains;

and partly from memory--for he had heard the song before--partly from

the exceeding clearness with which every word was pronounced, he

distinguished each verse as it was sung.

SONG.

The moon is on high, but she's hid by a cloud,

The prospect looks gloomy and drear,

And still through the night may she weep 'neath the shroud;

But daylight is coming, and near.

The heart is bowed down 'neath the cares of the hour,

And the eye may be dimmed by a tear;

But the heart shall rise up in the morn like a flower;

A brighter day's coming, and near.

We have trusted and hoped, been oppress'd, and have grieved;

But joy will return, never fear:

There's a trust and a hope that is never deceived;

A brighter day's coming, and near.

Each life has its joy, and each life has its pain;

But the tempest still leaves the sky clear;

And for honour and truth, which are never in vain,

A brighter day's coming, and near.

CHAPTER V.

Another night passed of agitating thought, with but little sleep and

many troublous dreams; and for more than one long hour Algernon Grey

remained in deep and intense thought, pondering over the present and

the future. I know not how or why--for there are many mysteries in

man's nature, which the skill of philosophy, as yet, has not been able

to unravel;--but certain it is, that at one particular portion of the

night, unless sleep deaden the reflective powers and still the

imagination, or active exertion occupies the thoughts with tangible

things, dark and gloomy images come crowding upon the mind and seem to

triumph over the powers of reason, with a supernatural influence, like

that which has been attributed to spectres from the grave. All that is

sad and horrible in man's general fate, all that is grievous or

perilous or worthy of regret in the history of the past, in the aspect

of the present, and in the prospect of the future, marches by in long

and black procession; and the oppressed heart is fain to exclaim at

this sight of human ills, "What! will the line last to the crack of

doom?"

The couch of Algernon Grey was not without such apparitions;

and--alas! that I should say it--the thought of her who had just

quitted him in all her beauty, in all her sweetness, in all her grace,

but rendered the wild phantoms of fancy more terrible. He felt, he

could not deny, in that hour of the opening of the heart's secrets to

itself, that he loved her, eagerly, ardently, with that first

passionate love of enthusiastic youth; that to win her he would

willingly have sacrificed rank, name, station, aught on earth but his

own sense of right. But still, at the same time, came a voice from his

own breast, like that of fate, repeating: "She cannot be thine! She

cannot be thine!"

"What should he do?" he asked himself; "how should he act?" He could

not reject her gentle kindness offered in simple innocence by a

grateful heart. Flight was his only resource; but he was a prisoner

and had no power to fly. Chained down to the sole society most

dangerous to his peace, it seemed as if he were tied to the stake to

endure to the utmost the fiery ordeal of temptation. Then again, he

strove to cast the thoughts from him, and gained a brief interval of

sleep; but visions all coloured by the same gloomy hues either

disturbed repose, or made him start up again to think of the same

themes and wrestle with the same dark adversaries.

At length the day dawned; and, rising quickly from his bed, he hurried

to the window, opened it, and gazed forth. Oh, how sweet was the fresh

aspect of the morning to his wearied eyes, as calm and reinvigorating

to the mind as the gentle breath of the early summer day to the heated

cheek it blew upon. The golden light spread through the valley and

over the hills, sunk in amongst the deep woods, and threw out the

masses of the dark trees from a soft background of luminous mist;

while, here and there, a woodman's fire or cottage chimney sent up

wreaths of faint blue smoke, rolling in graceful lines amongst the

leaves and branches.

The day went on in its usual course: many hours of solitude, broken

only by the entrance of a servant or the guard. Algernon Grey found no

means of relieving the tedious passing of the time. He tried to read,

but he could not. He turned from the instrument of music he had asked

for, with a sickened feeling, as if sweet sounds would but increase

the bitterness of meditation. Thought, devouring thought, consumed the

moments; till towards evening, when the guard threw open the door, and

to his surprise he saw his old and attached servant Antony enter and

approach him. The man's face wore a mingled expression, as if he was

striving to keep up his usual appearance of gaiety, when in truth his

heart was sad; and his master would not suffer one who, he well knew,

loved him dearly to see how bitterly circumstances made, him feel his

imprisonment.

"Well, Tony," he said, in a cheerful tone; "so they have given you

admission at length."

"Yes, my lord," replied the man; "they have come down from their high

flight, now that they find their heavy bravo will not do.--I hope your

lordship has not fancied I have been negligent; for I have been up

here twice a day, and the page as often. The little devil would have

stabbed the guard, I believe, to get entrance, if I had not stopped

him; but we two are not enough to storm the castle, and we should have

only got ourselves in limbo too. However, to-night they let me in to

carry you these letters, which a courier brought just now from

England; so there are now four of us; and, if you like, methinks

between us all we can contrive to get you out."

Algernon Grey shook his head with a smile, and taking the letters, he

read the addresses with a listless, uninterested look.

"No, no, Tony," he said; "they would only catch us again, before we

had gone far.--But what was that you said of the young Baron of

Oberntraut?"

"Why, the fellow you fought with, sir," answered the servant, "if you

mean him, is getting better hourly. He was out in the garden up there

to-night, by the bank of the river, sitting in a chair. You have not

hurt him much, it seems. Pity you did not send your sword through his

maw. The bleeding will do him good, however; for he is mighty pale,

and won't affront an English gentleman again, I warrant. I saw him

myself when I rode up to get tidings. There he was, sitting all white

and colourless in a great gilt chair against the wall of the house,

like a wax-candle in a sconce."

While the man had been speaking, his master had slowly approached the

window, opened one of the letters, and was reading the first lines as

his servant concluded. For a moment or two the subject of the epistle

seemed to produce no great effect. He smiled slightly, ran his eye

down to the bottom, skimming carelessly the contents, and then turned

the page. The next moment, however, he seemed to be stirred by strong

emotions; his brow contracted, his eye flashed, his lip quivered, and

the hot angry blood rose in an instant into his cheek and overspread

his forehead with a fiery glow. Straining his eyes upon the sheet, he

read on; and, when he had done, held the letter open in his hand for

several minutes, gazing sternly up into the air. He uttered not a

word; but the servant could see how his heart beat, by the quivering

of the paper in his hand. Then, throwing it down upon the table, he

tore open the other hastily and read it likewise. The contents did not

seem to mitigate his agitation, though they mingled a degree of scorn

with the expression of his countenance. This time some portion of his

emotion found vent in a few brief words: "So, so!" he cried. "So bold

and shameless--and shall I be restrained by such scruples?--Nay, nay,

this is too bad--England, farewell! You shall not feel my foot for

many a day!"

"Ah, my lord," said the man, "things seem going on at a fine rate,

truly; methinks, when one takes a part so boldly, the other may well

choose his part too. Faith, I would let them whistle for me long

enough, before I went."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Algernon Grey, turning upon him sharply.

"Why, my noble lord, I have had a letter, too, by Hob, the courier;

and I dare say the news in mine and yours is all the same."

"And has it become the common scandal then?" said Algernon Grey

thoughtfully. "So young, so fair, so haughty, and yet so shameless!

Leave me, Tony, leave me, and come up to-morrow early. Doubtless they

will give you admission, if all goes well--I want nothing more

to-night--leave me, I say."

"Well, my lord, if I were you, I would not take it much to heart,"

replied the man, lingering for a moment ere he departed. "There's not

much love lost on either side, I believe, and never was; and you will

be just as well quit of a bad bargain."

Algernon Grey waved his hand for him to leave the room, but answered

not; and when the man was gone, he strode up and down the wide chamber

for full half an hour with quick and agitated steps. Then, casting

himself into a chair, he laughed aloud, exclaiming, "I am a fool!--Why

should I grieve? Why let such idle passion tear me?--I love her

not--have never loved her--I contemn, despise her--have ever scorned

her pitiful pride, and but strove, against my nature, to bend my

affections to my duty.--Let her take her course.--Nay, indeed, she has

taken it."

The door opened suddenly, and then, for the first time, he perceived

that night had fallen, as the light from the ante-chamber poured in;

and he saw the form of Agnes, without distinguishing her features,

standing in the doorway, like a graceful shadow.

"Will you come to-night?" said that sweet, musical voice; and,

starting up, Algernon Grey snatched his hat from the table, replying,

"Most willingly, fair Agnes."

As they walked on, through the courts, along the Altan, out into the

gardens, over the terrace, Agnes saw that a great change had come upon

her companion. Far from seeming to have received any evil news from

his native land, it appeared as if some heavy weight had been taken

from his mind. His manner was light and cheerful; his words gay and

full of unusual fire--somewhat wild and absent, indeed, at times; but

still, the whole tone was sunshiny and very unlike the gloomy mood of

the preceding night.

The difference made Agnes thoughtful. She asked herself, "Is it his

nature to be thus variable?" But she would not believe it. There was

something in her breast that would not let her think the slightest ill

of him beside her. The picture of his character was already drawn by

the hand of affection upon a woman's heart; and, when such is the

case, stern, and hard, and continued must be the wearing power that

can ever efface the lines. A new light seemed to break upon her; and

at length she said, "I think I can divine that you have heard how much

better your adversary is. It is said they will bring him into

Heidelberg to-morrow."

"Yes, I have heard it," answered Algernon Grey, "and am exceedingly

rejoiced to find his wound will not prove dangerous."

Agnes was satisfied; his new gaiety was accounted for; and, as they

wandered on, she gave free course to all her own thoughts, as they

sprang up from the deep well of the heart unobstructed to the lips.

Once, indeed, she was a little frightened at her own feelings and at

his manner. Not that he said aught to alarm or agitate her; but there

was a tenderness mingled with the frank and rapid outpouring of all

the ideas that seemed to cross his brain, which startled and moved

her. But women have always some veil ready to hide agitating truths

from their own eyes; and Agnes dismissed the thought ere it had

possessed her mind for a moment. Carried away by the quick and

sparkling current of his conversation, her brain seemed to whirl as

the mind followed him; and he, in the turbulent emotions produced by

the tidings he had received and the struggling love within his bosom,

suffered himself to be hurried rapidly on, he saw not, he knew not, he

cared not whither. Their perilous course in a frail bark some few days

before down the furious torrent of the Neckar was but an emblem of the

voyage of their two hearts along the troubled stream of love that

night. Time flew on more rapidly then either of them knew; the

castle-clock striking ten roused them as it were from a dream; and,

returning to his prison, Algernon Grey, as before, parted from Agnes

in the ante-chamber. The moment he had entered his own room, and the

door was closed, he cast himself into a seat, leaned his folded arms

upon the table, and, as if utterly exhausted, let his head fall upon

his arms; and there, for three long hours, without a change of

attitude, he remained plunged in the chaos of wild, unformed,

unregulated thoughts. An attendant came in, but he took no notice of

him. He placed supper on the table, and invited him courteously to

take some. He replied not, for he heard not; and the man, thinking

that he slept, retired.

At the end of the time I have mentioned, the prisoner started up,

brushed back the rich brown curls from his broad forehead with a

bewildered look, and, taking a light, retired to bed and slept,

strange to say, profoundly.

The sun had risen high; an attendant had twice entered the large room;

and all the world was busy with the ordinary affairs of life, before

Algernon Grey awoke from one of those deep, dreamless sleeps, which

sometimes succeed to the exhausting conflict of passions in the human

breast. For a few moments he could hardly tell where he was; he could

with difficulty recollect the circumstances in which he was placed, or

the events of the preceding day. But, as they rushed at length upon

memory, a shadow came over his face; and again the question recurred,

"What am I doing? Whither am I hurrying?" The gloom of the preceding

days came over him more darkly than ever, and he passed a full hour in

anxious thought.

"No, no!" he exclaimed at length; "whatever be the temptation, I will

not do such wrong to her young and innocent heart as to seek its love,

while there is no chance, no hope of our ultimate union. I will rather

see her give her hand to another, and live on in loveless, cheerless

solitude myself. Yet, if I am kept here, if I linger near her in this

constant companionship, with her beauty and her grace before my eyes,

her sweet voice sounding in my ears, her high yet gentle thoughts

mingling with and softening my own, how can I so guard myself as never

to betray the secret of my bosom?--how can I restrain myself so as not

to tell my love and seek hers in return? Men have tried the same

before and have ever failed. I have no such confidence in my own

strength, and I will not risk it; I will fly--whatever it cost to tear

myself away, I will fly."

The hours went by; and a little before noon the prisoner received a

brief visit from Herbert. The news he brought was so far satisfactory,

as it showed Algernon the prospect of his speedy liberation. His

adversary had been removed into Heidelberg the day before, had not

suffered in the least by the exertion, had passed a good night, and

pronounced himself quite well. But the duration of the old officer's

stay was so short, that no other information could be communicated.

After dinner Algernon's servant appeared again, but he brought no

tidings; and when his master inquired, with some surprise, what had

become of his cousin, that he saw him not, the stout servant answered,

with a laugh, "Oh, sir, he is woman-hunting; some fair lady here has

him always at her heels; but, though Heaven forbid I should say I love

him much, yet I do believe he has striven to serve you, in this matter

at least; for I know he has been twice with the Elector and once with

the Electress about your affairs."

"And why love you him not, Tony?" asked his master. "I have seen, it

is true, that you have less reverence for him than pleases me; but I

would fain know the cause."

"I have known him from a boy," replied the man drily; "and, though he

never did aught to injure or offend me, yet there are certain things

that one sees, and hears, and knows, which, do what a man will, make

up in the course of time an amount of love or disliking very difficult

to be changed. I own I love him not; and, to say truth, I have found

few that do who have known him as well; but it is no affair of mine,

and, if you love him, I have nought to do but to be his humble

servant."

"I trust you will show yourself so," replied his master; "first, as he

is my kinsman; next, as he is my friend."

"I will, my lord," replied the man; "unless I can some time show you

that he is not your friend; for that's a point I doubt."

"You are prejudiced," answered Algernon Grey; "and I thought not to

see one, who wants not sense, recollect the follies of a boy, long,

long years afterwards.--Now leave me."

"It is not only follies I remember, good lord," replied the servant

gravely; "I never accused him of follies. It is not head he wants, it

is heart. For ten long years I saw him in your father's house, a

child, a lad, almost a man; and I know him well."

"Leave me," said Algernon Grey sternly; and the servant withdrew. But,

if the truth must be told, his young master was more inclined to share

his sentiments than he would admit. For some years he had not seen his

cousin, ere he joined him on the continent. He had remembered him only

as the companion of his boyhood, elder by several years, but still

bending to share all his sports and pastimes; devising pleasures for

him, and breaking the dull ceremonies of a stately household. After

they met again, however, he had seen much that pained and displeased

him; and he felt sorry, not without good cause, that he had entered

into one of those wild and romantic engagements with him, to travel

together for a certain time under feigned names, which had been

rendered common at that period by the publication of the most popular,

but, at the same time, it must be said, the most idle romance that

ever was written--"The Astrea." He turned his mind, however, from the

subject as soon as possible, after the servant had left him; and now

he tried to read and pass his time with any other thoughts than those

of Agnes Herbert. All those who have made such efforts know how vain

they are. She was ever before his eyes, ever present to his fancy; and

he gave up the attempt, asking himself whether, if she came again that

night, he should go as before, or steadily refuse such dangerous

companionship.

He was saved the struggle, however; for about five o'clock Herbert

again presented himself, followed by a guard, and, taking Algernon's

hand warmly, he said, "Come, my young friend, your imprisonment is

drawing near an end. The Elector has sent for you, and, doubtless, it

is to give you freedom; for this young Oberntraut is recovering fast.

Come with me, and we shall soon hear more."

Algernon Grey followed willingly enough; and the English officer led

him, by several of those passages and staircases through which he had

passed with Agnes on the first night of his imprisonment, to the

eastern part of the castle, where Frederic's own apartments were

situated. At length, crossing a ante-chamber full of guards and

attendants, they entered a hall where the Elector was waiting with his

court. There was but a small attendance of the Palatinate nobility, it

is true, not above fifteen or twenty persons being present; but

Algernon Grey saw several who had surrounded the Prince on the first

night of his presentation, and amongst the rest the old Baron of

Oberntraut.

The worthy chamberlain's countenance, notwithstanding the reports made

of his son's health, did not seem more placable than when last the

young Englishman had seen it; and that of the Elector bore a somewhat

grave and embarrassed look. As the whole party were assembled not far

from the door, Algernon Grey had not much time for observation before

he stood within a step of the Elector, and to his surprise found

Frederic's hand extended towards him. He took it instantly, and bent

his head over it; and the Prince, in a tone of much kindness, at once

began the conversation, saying:--

"I have been grieved, sir, to be forced by the laws and customs of my

country to subject you to the inconveniences of imprisonment till such

time as the results of your duel with one of my officers, the Baron of

Oberntraut, could be fully ascertained. We have an edict here

repressing such encounters; but as you are a stranger to our laws,

though amenable to them while in these dominions, I must say the fault

was more his than yours. The Baron may now, however, be considered

well; and I am willing to pass over the offence on both parts; in his

case considering all that he has already undergone, and in yours, your

ignorance of our laws. I have sent for you, therefore, to tell you,

your imprisonment is at an end, and to reconcile you with the family

of your late adversary. Henceforth, I trust, you will be friends, not

enemies."

Algernon Grey was about to reply that he had never entertained the

slightest enmity towards his opponent, when the old Lord of Oberntraut

took a step forward and said, in a sharp tone, "I came here, noble

prince, to seek reparation, and not friendship; and I beseech your

Highness----"

But at that moment he was interrupted by a low voice from behind,

saying, "Will you allow me to pass, my Lord the Count?"

The gentleman thus addressed made way; and the next instant the Baron

of Oberntraut himself came forward, ghastly pale, and apparently

somewhat feeble, but yet walking with a firm step and an upright head.

The moment he stood before the Elector he held forth his hand frankly

to Algernon Grey, saying, "I, at least, sir, entertain no such

feelings; I come here to ask your friendship, and to thank you for a

lesson you have taught me, which will make me a wiser man to the end

of my life. I have been somewhat spoiled by success and flattery, sir,

and needed a check, such as this wound has given, to teach me that no

man can always have his way in the world. You are the most skilful

swordsman I have ever seen; you dealt nobly and honourably with me,

and in this presence I declare that the whole fault, from first to

last, was mine. I sought the quarrel, urged it on, led you to the

place of the encounter; and I do believe that, exposed by my rash

anger to your cooler skill, my life was often at your mercy had you

chosen to take it. I thank you, therefore, for the wound you gave, and

trust you will forget the past, and take my offered hand."

"With my whole heart," answered Algernon Grey, pressing it warmly;

"and I do assure you, Baron, that only the defence of my own life

would have induced me to injure you. I could not help it, however; for

you are not an adversary to be trifled with. Indeed it was more

accident than aught else, which gave me a momentary advantage. Had not

your foot slipped on the wet sward, the chance might have been against

me, and I should have been lying still enough by this time."

The young baron smiled, with a look of great pleasure at this

testimony to his skill; and the Elector, calling the old Lord of

Oberntraut into one of the deep windows, said, "My lord, I

intreat--nay, I command, that you let your anger drop, and cease all

vain pursuit of revenge. This is no ordinary man you have to deal

with. I know him, though he believes I do not, and am aware not only

that he is one of the high nobles of England, but also that he is sent

hither on a secret mission of deep importance to my welfare."

"A spy, sir, you would say?" murmured the old lord, in a low bitter

tone.

"Hush, sir!" cried the Elector, his brow growing dark; "no more of

this, if you would merit the continuance of my favour. I am not so

powerless that I cannot make my commands respected by my own court.

You hear what your son has said. He exculpates him of all blame. No

serious injury has been done; and I insist that you yield to

reconciliation."

"As the boy is satisfied," replied the chamberlain, doggedly, "and in

obedience to your Highness, I submit;" and turning towards Algernon

Grey, he added, "By the commands of my Prince, sir, I am ready to let

this matter drop; but I must advise you not to try such things again

with--"

"Hush, hush, my father!" cried his son, "I will proclaim to all the

world that there never was a more noble gentleman than he who now

stands before you; and as you have hated him solely as my adversary, I

do beseech you now to love him as my friend."

"Well, sir, well," replied the old lord, "I have nought to say; let

the matter be passed and forgotten;" but it was evident that his

ill-will was but little diminished, and his angry pride unpacified.

"Now," said the Elector, with a courteous smile, "this all being

settled, and animosities healed, we will part for the evening--and

you, noble sir," he continued, turning to Algernon Grey, "though I

will only call you by the name you are pleased to assume, will, I

trust, grace our court by your presence tomorrow at the hour of

eleven. We have there matters of some weight, which we wish to make

known to all friends and well-wishers, either of the Elector Palatine,

or his lady, the pearl of England; and we trust, that you may be

ranked in both classes."

"I will not fail, your Highness," answered Algernon Grey; "but I fear

it must be my audience of leave-taking."

"Not so, not so," replied the Elector; "we shall find means to keep

you with us, I do not doubt. However that may be, farewell for the

present;" and, passing through the opposite door with a large part of

his train, comprising the old Baron of Oberntraut, he left the hall.

As soon as he was gone, Algernon Grey's late adversary once more

grasped his hand, saying, "You must not go, my friend; the Elector has

need of swords such as yours; ay, and of hearts and heads such as

yours, too. If there is chivalry in your nature; if there is high

spirit and generous enthusiasm--and I know there is--you will give him

aid in his hour of need. I may be tied down to this spot by many

things; but if you go with him, I know there is a better arm and

better brain than any I could bring."

"Nay, not better," answered Algernon Grey, "though equally devoted to

any good cause.--But I know not what you mean, on what expedition he

is bound, or what enterprise is before him."

"I cannot tell you," answered Oberntraut in a low voice; "and I cannot

entertain you, as I could wish, at my own lodgings, on account of this

sickness; but if you inquire for me to-morrow, ere you come hither, I

will let you know more.--Now I must return; for, to say truth, I am

tired. I never thought to know the day when I should say that a short

walk and a brief conference were too much for my strength; but so it

is, and I must go and lie down once more, and rest."

The party broke up soon; but ere Algernon Grey quitted the hall for

the purpose of returning to the place of his imprisonment, in order to

see that all his effects were carefully carried down to the inn below,

a gentleman approached, and, after shaking hands with him, said

something in a low voice.

"This evening, if you please," answered Algernon Grey; "but what is

it, Craven?"

His friend replied in a whisper; and a dark cloud immediately came

over Algernon Grey's countenance.

"I know it all," he answered; "all that you can tell me, Craven. Come

and see me, if you will. Right glad shall I be to spend an hour with

you; but mention not that name again. Much is, doubtless, false; much

is, doubtless, exaggerated; but much must be true that should not be

so; and my own course is decided." Thus saying, he turned to Herbert,

and, after a few words, walked back with him to the tower where he had

been confined.

CHAPTER VI.

The fair Princess of England, now in the pride of youth and beauty, in

the full sunshine of prosperity and power, with one of the fairest

portions of the earth for her dominions, with admiration, flattery,

esteem, love, almost adoration, rising up like incense before her, but

with so sad and dark a fate for the future, sat in her silver chamber,

surrounded by all the beauty she could collect from her husband's

dominions. There were only three men present, two old German noblemen,

and, strange to say, our acquaintance William Lovet. The hour was

nearly the same as that at which Algernon Grey was summoned to the

presence of the Elector before his release; and every face around was

full of satisfaction, as the Princess and her countryman talked

somewhat lightly of the imprisonment of Lovet's kinsman, and the

prospects before him; using the French tongue.

The Englishman stood before the chair of the Electress, with his hat

and plume dangling from his hand, his head slightly bent, his ear

turned to hear the Princess's words, and a slight sarcastic smile upon

his finely-turned lip.

"Good faith! your Highness," he said, in answer to something the

Princess communicated, "I know not well whether to rejoice or be sad

at the tidings you give me."

"Sad!" exclaimed Elizabeth, with a look of much surprise; "have you

not been urging his liberation?"

"That was a duty," answered Lovet, with the same meaning smile; "but

there may be unpleasant duties, madam."

"Are you his friend, his kinsman?" exclaimed the Electress.

"Both," answered Lovet; "but yet, friendship may have unpleasant

duties too. I urged his liberation, not because I thought it best for

him, but because it was what he had a right to demand."

"Is he so wild and rash, then," demanded Elizabeth, "that, like a

lion, he must be kept in a cage?--But you are jesting; I see it on

your face."

"Good faith! not so, lady," answered the Englishman; "but all men do

not know what is best for them; and my cousin is one of them--a rare

keen judge for others, and not for himself.--Now, look around, your

Highness. What do you see?"

"Too many things for a catalogue," answered the Princess; "vases,

statues, hangings of blue and silver, many fair ladies, and--"

"Stop there, I beg," said Lovet. "All these bright things make me

judge that it were wise for any gay and courtly gentleman to stay

amongst them; but these same things--nay, their very beauty"--and he

ran his eye over the circle round the Electress, calling forth a

well-pleased smile on many of the faces near--"have quite the contrary

effect on my good cousin, making him seek to fly such sweet

temptation; and, like a wandering friar, or our good friend St.

Anthony, resist the devil, love, Hymen, and the rest, by solitude and

maceration."

The Electress laughed and he proceeded; "We are of different

judgments, he and I; while I am free, I stay even where I am; no

sooner is he at liberty than he flies, depend upon it.--But if I could

have a private word with your Highness, I might tell you more, and say

things worthy of your ear."

Elizabeth gazed round the circle for an instant, and then said,

speaking English, "There is no one who understands our native tongue."

A momentary hesitation seemed to come over William Lovet; and he

paused for an instant, ere he replied. It was seldom that such a thing

happened to him; for he was ready and quick at repartee, and had, as

is the case with many a shrewd and intriguing man, a habit, as adept

as nature, of veiling his direct meaning in figures which implied more

than was actually said. He rarely found a difficulty in making his

hearers easily comprehend all that he meant, while he guarded against

an accurate report of anything that he had instigated, requested, or

desired, by rendering the expressions in themselves so unmeaning,

that, when repeated to an unprepared ear, their sense, if they had

any, seemed very different from that which the circumstances at the

moment gave them. In the present instance, however, his task was one

of some difficulty; for he sought to convey to a mind, naturally

shrewd and acute, and accustomed to deal very much with hyperbole and

metaphor, a false idea in the general, while all the particulars were

in themselves true.

So long did he remain silent, that the Electress at length said in a

tone of impatience, "Well, sir, what would you say?"

"Good faith! your Highness," he answered in a frank tone; "I do not

know well how to begin. I must not forget that it is my cousin I am

speaking of; but yet I wish to give you such an insight into the

matter that you may judge fairly of it by yourself. From various

circumstances, which it is little worth while to speak of, this good

cousin of mine has conceived a horror and fear of woman's love."

"I can conceive the circumstances," answered the Electress; "his

history is not wholly unknown to me, Master Lovet."

"Then you have the whole affair," answered her visitor, catching

gladly at the admission; "I need say nothing more. You have seen with

your own eyes, know right well, must have heard and marked the

attractions which your court possesses for my poor cousin Algernon.

Within two days he took fright at his own sensations, and was for

flying as fast as possible; but a duel, a knight-errant-like

adventure, imprisonment, and the devil to boot, I believe, have

detained him here even till now; and Love's chain, I doubt not, is

round and round his heart by this time. Nevertheless, he will snap his

fetters as soon as his limbs are free; and as I have promised, by an

oath more binding than a marriage vow, to go with him wherever he goes

for the next year, you may well judge that I am not very anxious to

see his prison doors unlocked."

Elizabeth meditated for a minute or two, and then answered, "I should

have thought the mission which brought him hither would detain him

somewhat longer at our court."

"There are two objections to that supposition," replied Lovet: "first,

that whatever object he had in coming hither--of which I know nothing;

for he has his secrets as well as I have mine--must be attained by

this time. Depend upon it, your Highness, if he had any object at all,

it was but to examine, to see, to inquire, and nothing more. He must

have seen enough of your court, must have heard enough of coming

events, for a quick mind like his to have formed its own conclusions."

"That is one objection to my view," replied the Electress; "what is

the second?"

"A very simple one," said William Lovet, "namely, that the court of

the Count Palatine is very soon to become, if what men say be true,

the court of a great king. Heidelberg is about to lose its splendour,

and those who stay there may study or may sing amongst nightingales

and professors, with sweet voices and deep learning; but no courtly

auditory, and but small company."

The Electress smiled. "Such things may be," she said, in a grave

pondering tone, seeming to consider each word; "but yet, my good sir,

as all things must come to an end, so must this gentleman's visit to

our court. Only I would rather--whatever my husband's decision may be

upon matters which have been bruited about somewhat too largely--I

would rather, I say, that a noble gentleman of my own land, supposed

to be sent hither expressly by my father, should not take his

departure immediately that the Elector's resolution is made public."

Lovet saw his advantage, and exclaimed at once, "Heaven forefend! it

would be most detrimental!"

"Highly so," rejoined the Electress. "Rumours, true or false, assign

to this young gentleman a high place in the world's esteem; the

confidence of his own sovereign in the task of watching here the

proceedings relative to the Bohemian crown, and of acting according as

circumstances shall seem to need. It will certainly, as you say, be

most detrimental, if, immediately after the Elector's decision is

known, he were to withdraw himself instantly from our court, from any

private motives such as you mention. Men would instantly say, that the

step we were about to take was disapproved of by the crown whence we

have the best right to look for assistance and support. Little,

indeed, have we had hitherto; but such an act on the part of your

friend would be fatal. We all know what is the effect of high

countenance in the outset of a great undertaking; and I need not tell

you, that my father's lukewarmness in this cause has already created

difficulties, and disheartened our followers."

Lovet laid his finger on his temple, and seemed to consider deeply the

subjects brought before him. But, if the truth must be told, this

thoughtful mood was assumed; and he answered the next moment with a

sudden exclamation, as if some bright thought had struck him, "Were it

not better that you took him with you to Bohemia? His appearance at

Prague, with all the rumours going before him which your Highness has

mentioned, would give hope and confidence, would raise the spirits of

the people, would depress and keep in check the adverse party, and

would add an ingredient tending to strengthen union, which is all that

would seem wanting to complete success."

"But would he go?" exclaimed Elizabeth. "The same motives that made

him eager to quit Heidelberg, would surely withhold him from Prague."

"When we set a trap for a linnet," said Lovet, "we take care to

conceal the wires. 'Tis needless that your Highness should say, that

either the Lady Agnes goes with you, or the fair Countess of

Laussitz."

The Princess smiled; for she not unwillingly mixed herself with the

small policy of her husband's court, and took some pleasure in the

cunning parts of diplomatic intrigue. She made no answer, however, and

Lovet proceeded:--

"If ever there was a gallant and chivalrous spirit in this world it is

my cousin Algernon's. To serve a lady with his sword, or his heart's

best blood, would be the pride of his life, provided he did not fear

that by so doing he would bind himself in somewhat too strong a chain.

At your first call, the spirit of his race and his name will rise to

defend your cause before the world. A Lady, his Princess, the love of

all hearts, the admiration of all eyes, would find a right willing

servant, and one who in the camp, or court, or counsel, could do great

deeds. Ready and willing, I take upon myself to say, he would be, if

one fair lady's name was not mentioned in your train."

The Princess mused, and seemed somewhat embarrassed. "I have

always intended," she said, "that if we go--of which I as yet know

nothing--Agnes should go with me; I have told her so. She would look

upon it as a slight if I did not take her. She has been to me almost

as a sister, since I have been here--but yet I will speak with her;

for much must be sacrificed for a great object."

"Nay, your Highness, speak with her not," answered Lovet, laughing;

"leave her not behind. Once he has promised you the service of his

sword, he will not break his word, nor withdraw from the contract; but

there is no need, in naming those who are to accompany you, that all

shall be mentioned at the first. Omit some names, which may be added

afterwards as you may think fit. Heaven forefend that a high princess

shall not have right and title to change her mind seven times a day,

as well as a washerwoman's daughter!"

"I understand," answered Elizabeth, laughing, "I understand; but you

think, then, he will not take flight if he finds that this fair

dangerous little friend of mine is one of the train, after all?"

"No fear, no fear," replied Lovet; "once promised, he is yours for

life or death; and good faith! to say the truth, 'tis fair this lady

should be of the party. When he once finds her sweet companionship

fixed upon him beyond the possibility of escape, he will yield himself

gaily to his fate, put on the Celadon, and humanize himself a little,

which is all that he wants to make him perfect in his way. Never was

statue, or hewn block of stone, from Lot's wife down to the works of

Praxiteles, more cold or uncomfortable as a companion than my good

cousin Algernon, solely from his lamentable fear of giving way to the

fire in his own heart. For my part, I think a little honest love gives

the crowning touch to all excellence. With the virtue which the old

Romans attributed to the fine arts, it softens manners, purifies the

heart and spirits, elevates the character, and takes from us that

touch of the wild beast, which is always to be found in what my

great-grandmother, who was a Lollard,--Heaven keep her from

purgatory!--used to call 'the natural man.'"

"I believe it does, sir," answered the Electress, amused, and even

pleased, with the strange picture his conversation displayed of many

qualities apparently very opposite, and not knowing that all which

seemed good was thrown in to make the dish suit the palate of the

person to whom it was presented,--"I believe it does; but it must be,

as you say, honest love to do so."

"Well, beautiful princess," replied Lovet, with a low laugh that he

could not suppress,--one of those light, demoralizing, satanic laughs,

which attack virtuous principles, unassailable by any argument--"I

only speak of honest love. The thought of nought else could ever enter

into my good cousin's heart; he is as pure and innocent as what Will

Shakspeare calls a sucking dove; and that love, when he finds he

cannot escape from it, will be a chivalrous bond to your court and

service for ever."

"And your own love, Master Lovet," asked the Princess; "You don't

suppose I have been blind to your devotion to a certain fair lady?

What of your own love?"

"Oh, immaculate and high," answered Lovet, with his sneering smile;

"the pure conception of enthusiastic devotion--a passion, like the

flame on Vesta's altar, burning for ever with a holy light--no smoke,

high Princess, no red and fiery glare, but blue and thin and cold,

like the flame of spirits on a sponge--quite spiritual, quite

spiritual, I can assure you"--and he laughed again in bitter mockery

of the romantic character of the age, which could conceive that love

can be separated from the fire that is its life. "Surely, surely,

bright lady, if others may be permitted to play Strephons, I am not to

be blamed if I _Celadon_ it a little, though the languishing eyes of

the Countess of Laussitz do look as if they would wake the terrestrial

Eros, rather than the celestial."

In spite of herself, the Princess could not but smile; but, putting on

a grave look the moment after, she replied, "Well, well. Far be it

from me to lay any restraint upon gallant and noble devotion to the

fair; it is the high moving power to all great actions; and on it am I

ready to rest for support myself, should need be; but remember, Master

Lovet, I will have no scandals in my court; that is an indispensable

condition to your sojourn with it."

"Scandal, your Highness! Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Lovet; "I would not

have a scandal for the world. Always consider what such a thing would

imply; I declare the very thought of it would spoil my breakfast, had

I not made one good meal before I came out. The consequences would be

frightful: first, I should lose your Highness's favour; next, I should

have to cut the throat of a little fat, small-eyed husband--work for a

pork-butcher, but not for a cavalier with clean hands; and last, I

should have to marry the fair dame myself, which would certainly put

an end to all our fine Platonics. No, no, by that fair hand I swear,

you shall have no scandal by any act of William Lovet."

"Well, Sir William," answered the Electress, "you will recollect that

false names do not cover well-known faces; that your reputation is not

quite so clear and bright as a new crimson velvet cloak, laced with

gold; and that, knowing the person and his ways, I have my eye upon

him. As to the other matter, I will think of what you have said

concerning your noble cousin, and will act after due deliberation. We

must not lose him on any account, if it be possible to keep him; but,

ere I decide on aught, I must speak with his Highness; for these are

matters, in regard to which a woman's judgment is not worth much."

"Oh, a woman's judgment for ever!" cried William Lovet; "in love, war,

wine, and policy, there is nothing like a woman's judgment--But now I

will take my leave; for I see these fair ladies around marvelling

sadly at our long conversation in an unknown tongue--though, Heaven

help us! what we should have done on many great occasions I know not,

if certain wise gentlemen of antiquity had not thought fit to build a

high and very impious tower of Babel, and been cursed with strange

languages, which have proved very serviceable to their posterity.

However, if we talk farther in one of our Babel dialects before these

bright dames, their sweet wits will find or frame treason in it; and I

shall be impeached to the Elector for talking something more soft than

German to his lovely Princess. Thus, then, I humbly take my leave;

and, if you follow my sage advice regarding my good cousin, I will so

play my part as to insure that he is bound hand and foot to promote

your great and glorious undertakings."

CHAPTER VII.

About an hour after his liberation, Algernon Grey sat alone in his

chamber at the Golden Stag, absorbed in deep meditation. The servants

came and went, bringing down from the castle all those parts of his

baggage which had been carried up during his imprisonment, but he took

no heed of them; and even Frill, the page, obtained little notice,

though he endeavoured strongly to attract attention by eloquent speech

and graceful demeanour. The great question on which man's fate turns

so frequently throughout life: "How shall I act at this next step?"

was then before his eyes; but his mind wandered back into the past,

and, scrutinizing what had occurred during the last three days,

Algernon Grey could not free himself altogether from the reproaches of

his own heart. "I have been weak," he said, "I have been wrong; I have

yielded to circumstances, where I should have resisted them; I have

been tender in tone and manner, where I should have been cold as ice.

Better, far better, that she should think me rude, discourteous,

unkind, than that she should have hereafter to say, that I did her

wrong and sought her love secretly, when I could not ask it

honourably. Even now it is far wiser to encounter any sort of reproach

than give good cause for dark, well-founded accusation. I will

go--that is determined. To-morrow's sunset shall not find me in

Heidelberg."

His thoughts ran on from that starting point into the future, and he

asked himself, "What was before him; what was the path he should

pursue; what was the end to which it would lead?" The prospect was

dark and gloomy: no light shone upon it; no variety appeared to cheer

it, but one wild waste of life spread out before him, overhung with

clouds, and bearing nought to shelter or console. He felt like one of

those anchorites of old, who voluntarily quitted the sunshine and the

richness of cultivated nature, to plunge into the gloom and sterility

of the desert. He felt that, at that moment, there was beauty and

brightness around him, all that could charm the eye or captivate the

heart; that gaiety and pleasure, the exercise of the mind, the sport

of the fancy, the kindling of passion, the ecstasy of love, the wild

enthusiastic delights of a free heart revelling undisturbed in the

enjoyment of the best gifts of Heaven, were ready for his grasp, if he

chose to seize them, with but one obstacle--but that obstacle, to his

mind, insurmountable. He felt that he was about to fly them all,

voluntarily to resign everything that his heart longed for; with the

parched mouth and thirsty lip to renounce the cooling draught of the

deep well of happiness open before him; and to speed on through the

arid desert of existence, with no one to support or cheer, with not

one spring of the sweet waters of comfort to give him hope along his

desolate course. Barren, barren spread out the years before him. As he

looked through the long sunless vista, it seemed as if an open tomb

was all that closed the far perspective to receive him at the end of

his weary journey, and afford the dull sleep of death and corruption.

"May it come soon!" he thought, "may it come soon!" and, with his

hands pressed upon his eyes, he remained pondering bitterly over his

sad, strange fate.

"Ah, Algernon," cried a voice, as the door opened, "you look

marvellous joyful over your emancipation. One would think you had been

in a dungeon a whole year, to see your intemperate gaiety at the

recovery of your freedom. But I knew how it would be, and I told the

Electress the result. I urged her strongly to keep you in your soft

bondage, telling her, that to set you at liberty was but to restore

you to the slavery of a most perverse education.--But how goes it, my

good cousin?"

"Well, I thank you, William," answered Algernon Grey, rising and

shaking off his gloom, determined to encounter Lovet's keen jests with

a careless tone. "Faith, you are quite right, my cousin. The cheerful

society that you afforded me every day in prison made captivity so

sweet, that I could have staid in it for ever."

"See the ingratitude of man!" cried Lovet, laughing. "I have given him

up one-third of my whole time, and yet he is not satisfied, although,

by the code of love and gallantry, as he well knows, the other

two-thirds were not my own to give; they were pledged, pawned,

impignorated, and I might as well have stolen a jewel out of Madam de

Laussitz's ear, or taken any ring off her finger but one, with as much

right and justice as I could have taken one minute more than I did to

bestow upon my kinsman's affairs. Did I not thrice see the Elector?

Did I not twice see the Electress? Did I not make love to seven of her

ladies? Did I not bow nine times to nine old gentlemen? Did I not fee

a page for an audience? And actually embrace a chamberlain--the most

disgusting task of all--entirely to obtain his liberty? although I

knew the first use he would make of it would be to work his own

unhappiness and my disappointment."

"Nay, William, nothing of the kind," replied Algernon Grey. "We are

all upon the search for happiness, you and I alike; and each must seek

his in his own way. I thank you for all the trouble you have taken;

but birds when they are free will use their wings; and so will I

to-morrow. I have not been so long accustomed to a cage as to love its

neighbourhood."

"Stay, stay," cried Lovet. "Your pardon, my good cousin! I am not on

the search for happiness; that is a wild-goose chase, always

beginning, never ending; still disappointing, offering fruition

nowhere. Pleasure, pleasure is what I seek--the honey that is in every

flower. If we exhaust one, why let us fly on to another. The bee for

ever, Algernon! That industrious insect is my emblem. Good faith! I

win ask the heralds if I may not put it in my arms. Like it, I seek

the sweets of life, wherever they are to be found; and the wild thyme,

or the cultivated rose is all the same to me."

"But a spendthrift-bee," answered Algernon Grey; "for you lay up no

store for the future, but consuming all the honey that you find, and

building no waxy cells for future years. After all, the emblem is not

a pleasant one; for were you as thrifty as the best, our master, Fate,

would come and smoke you in the hive."

"I will give him no cause," answered Lovet, gaily; "for I will eat my

honey while I have got it, and hoard none to tempt his ruthless hands.

But a truce to bantering, Algernon; I have really laboured hard to set

you free, thinking that a much better way of spending my time than

piping to you in prison, like Blondel to good King Richard. But now

what is it you intend to do? I have trusted and hoped, that a few

hours' quiet reflection, in an airy room up three pair of stairs,

would turn the fresh must of your young proprieties to good sound

wine, and teach you that where you have all before you that can make

life happy, it is needless to go, like a drunken man with a purse full

of gold, and flip the ducats with your thumb-nail into a draw-well."

"What do you mean?" asked his cousin; "I intend to throw nothing away

that is good. Base coin is as well in a draw-well as anywhere else."

"Nay, nay, be frank," exclaimed Lovet; "I mean that you do not surely

intend to quit this place so soon as you have once threatened."

"I see no reason why I should stay," answered Algernon Grey.

"What! not love?" cried the other. "Nay, my good cousin, do not look

detected! Can you suppose, that I have not seen, that I do not know?

By every sign and token, from an untied collar, to a hat put on

wrongside before--from a sigh in the middle of a well-turned sentence,

to an answer made as irrelevant to the purpose as an old maid's

comment on last Sunday's sermon, you are in love, man--up to the neck

in that soft quagmire, love. And, good faith! I must own, too, that,

considering your inexperience of such things, and the resistance of

your nature to all sweet influences, you have not chosen amiss--bright

eyes, sweet lips, a cheek like a ripe peach, hair bright and glossy as

the sunshine on a bank of moss, a form that might have made Helen

envious, and false Paris doubly false."

Algernon Grey seated himself at the table again, and leaned his head

upon his hand, with his eyes thoughtfully bent down, and a red spot in

his cheek. He would not, he could not say that he did not love; but he

was pained that his clear-sighted cousin had divined the truth.

In the mean time Lovet proceeded, seeing clearly that Algernon did not

listen; but trusting that a word or two at least would fall through

the inattentive ear upon the mind, and produce, perhaps, a more

lasting effect than if they were listened to and answered.

"Stay, Algernon, stay," he cried; "stay and be happy. Cast not away

from you, for vain fantasies, joy that is seldom afforded to any man

more than once in life--opportunities which neglected never return,

and once lost, leave unceasing regret behind them. Stay, and make her

yours."

"Make her mine!" exclaimed Algernon Grey. "How?"

"Oh! a thousand courses are open," answered his cousin. "Shall I point

them out?"

Algernon waved his hand and shook his head, with a bitter smile; "I

see none," he answered.

"Well, listen," replied Lovet. "This Herbert, this uncle, is a soldier

to fortune--a man of no rank or position to bar the path to one of

your name and station. Troublous times are coming on; and over this

fair Palatinate will, ere long, roll a sea of disasters, which will

break bonds, shake ties, and, in a wide chaos of confusion, leave

opportunities which a wise lover would profit by."

"Nay, nay," cried Algernon Grey, starting up and raising himself to

his full height, "no more of such a theme; you do not understand me,

William."

"Right well, my cousin," replied Lovet, with one of his sarcastic

smiles; "but I thought it best to put the worst case first, and set

your shrewish puritanism in arms, by displaying the path that any

other wicked worldlings would take. The fair lady's heart is,

doubtless, more than half gone already; and though, perhaps, like all

these proud beauties, she might start a little at first from the

thought of such unconditional surrender, yet that said little tyrant

Love would compel obedience to his commands. Then, however, there is

another course to take. The high-stilted course, in all respects

suited to your stiff and magnificent ideas."

"Ay, what is that?" cried Algernon Grey, turning quickly toward him,

and betrayed, by a sudden gleam of hope, into a greater display of his

feelings than he could have desired.

Lovet suppressed the smile, that half curled his lip, ere his cousin

saw it; though he knew well that even to have raised up for a moment a

vision of happiness before his cousin's eyes, was so much gained for

his own plans. "The matter, methinks, is very easy," he answered; "you

have nought to do but first to make her yours beyond recall; and then,

being much too virtuous to remain in an unhallowed union, give

her the deepest proof of your tenderness and love by breaking this

boy-marriage of yours with the Lady Catherine. What right have fathers

and mothers, uncles and aunts, or grandfathers and guardians either,

to pledge a boy of fifteen by a vow at the altar to an engagement for

life, the very nature of which he does not understand? It is both

absurd and wicked; there may be many doubts whether it is lawful--"

"None, none," cried Algernon Grey; "it has taken place a hundred

times. Poor Essex and myself are in the same sad case."

"Ay, but he is worse off than you," answered Lovet; "for he, like a

fool, went back and took her home, while you have wisely staid away

with the broad sea between you. Now, though the lady and her good

friends may very likely, as the matters stand, hold fast by an

engagement which secures to her high rank and large possessions as

your wife; yet, if she finds you entangled irrevocably with another,

she will soon consent to that which you desire, and on a joint

petition to the peers this baby-matrimony will be soon annulled."

"She will not consent," said Algernon Grey, bitterly; "at least her

friends will not;" and then he added, fixing his eyes upon Lovet, "and

is it you, William, who can wish that I should thus treat your own

fair cousin?"

"Oh," answered Lovet, with a laugh, "it will not break her heart. I

know her well--better than you do, Algernon; and I advise you for the

happiness of both. This is no common case of perfidy. What does she

know of you to make her love you? or give one sigh because you love

another? Do you think, my fair cousin, that your great qualities are

so apparent, or your fine person so attractive, that one short sight

of you at the altar at the age of fifteen, tricked out in a white

satin doublet, purfled with blue, and laced with gold, is quite

sufficient to make her die of love for you? or, what were more

marvellous still, to preserve a holy constancy of maidenly affection

during seven long years of absence? Pooh, pooh! she is not of that

spirit at all, I can tell you. If she thought of you at all, when last

she saw you, it was but as a pretty, well-dressed doll; and doubtless,

had they left you with her then, she would have stuck a new

farthingale round your neck better to her taste, or put you into a

cradle and tried to rock you to sleep. She has got other notions now;

but, for aught we know, you may not be the object of them."

"Perhaps not," replied Algernon Grey, setting his teeth hard; "perhaps

not, Lovet,--I have reason to think so!--But now mark me, my good

cousin, and you know that I am firm in keeping my resolutions; I have

seen a fair and lovely creature here, beautiful, kind, innocent, high

minded. I would as soon pollute that creature, if I could, as I would

destroy the beauty of her face; I would as soon bring wretchedness

into her heart, as I would break those lovely limbs upon the rack--so,

once for all, no more of this. I shall leave Heidelberg to-morrow."

Lovet paused, and thought for a moment, laying his hand upon his brow,

with a studied air of meditation: "I thought it was on Saturday next,"

he said, "that the Elector went."

"That the Elector went!" repeated Algernon Grey; "I know not what you

mean, William."

"Pshaw, my good cousin," answered Lovet; "you do not suppose that I am

not aware Frederic has been urging you to go with him in this

expedition to Bohemia. I do not mean to say that you are making your

love for Agnes Herbert an excuse to me for a rash consent to the

Elector's wild and unprofitable scheme; but you will not deny, that,

tempted by the prospect of renown in arms, and strange adventures in a

distant country, you have taken advantage of the offer, thinking at

the same time to divert your mind from what you judge dangerous

thoughts, and quit a society that you love too much."

"I will deny it altogether," answered Algernon Grey, calmly. "The

Elector has never mentioned the name of Bohemia in my hearing; I was

not aware he had accepted this thorny crown, or that he was going

either soon or late."

"Why, it is all over the castle and the town," cried Lovet; "and if he

have not asked you, he will do it, be you sure. Craven goes with

him--"

"And the Princess?" demanded Algernon.

"She goes, or follows immediately," said his cousin, "like a true dame

of romance, she tells me, with but two ladies and two waiting women,

some half-dozen antique gentlemen, and a troop of horse."

Algernon Grey mused, calculating whether it was probable that Agnes

would be one of those selected to accompany the Electress. At length

he asked, in a somewhat hesitating manner, "Did you hear the ladies'

names who go with her?"

"Oh, yes," answered Lovet; "one was the Baroness L[oe]wenstein, whom

you saw the other night; the other a Countess, with a hard name I do

not recollect, and would not utter if I did; all I know, alas! is,

that it is not Laussitz.--But be prepared, my fair cousin: for, depend

upon it, the Elector will ask you; and, if you are not mad, you will

plead some other occupations; for nothing will come of this rash

scheme but disaster and hard blows. He is a gallant Prince, it is

true, and will, doubtless, have to aid him a brave and manly chivalry;

but the odds against him are too great. Spain and Savoy, and Burgundy,

the imperial power and three-fourths of the empire, papal gold and

intrigue, and Italian mercenaries enough to conquer a new world; while

France negotiates, England hesitates, and Holland takes care of

itself. You had better frame some excuse; so with that warning I will

leave you; for there is a pair of soft violet eyes looking for me as I

ride up the hill."

Algernon Grey smiled. It was not at his cousin's allusion to the

Countess of Laussitz, but rather, that Lovet should think he could be

deterred by such arguments as had been used. The reader may inquire if

Lovet thought they would deter him. It would seem not; and even

Algernon Grey became suspicious as he meditated.

"I will make myself sure," he said, after pondering for some time. "It

is more than probable she will remain with the Electress-mother; and

if she do, this adventure is as good as any other to fill up a space

of time.--I will go up and take leave of her and her uncle to-night;

for, perchance I may not see them at the court to-morrow."

His heart sank as he thought of that leave-taking; and he shrank from

the task, which he felt it would not be courteous to leave

unperformed. Minutes and hours passed by; and it was late in the

evening before he went; but at length he set out on foot, and, taking

his way by what is still called, I believe, the Burg-weg, he reached

the gates of the castle, and obtained admission. As usual, the courts

and passages were filled with a moving multitude; but Algernon Grey

walked straight on, noticing no one till he reached the tower in which

Colonel Herbert's lodging was situated, and, mounting the stairs, he

knocked at the heavy oaken door. A voice said,--"Come in;" but it was

not that of the English officer; and the moment after he stood before

Agnes Herbert, who sat writing at a table alone. She started up, when

she saw him, with a joyful smile; and, giving him her hand,

congratulated him on his liberation. But, after a few brief sentences

had been spoken, her manner became more grave; and she said, "You were

seeking my uncle; but he has just gone forth, leaving me to copy this

paper for him."

"I came," said Algernon Grey, in a calm and firm, but, in spite of

himself, a very sad tone, "to bid him adieu, as I thought it more than

likely, from his busy occupations, that I might not see him at the

court to-morrow morning."

"Adieu!" said Agnes. "Are you going soon, then?" and as she spoke her

face turned deadly pale.

"I must go, I fear, to-morrow," replied Algernon Grey, "as soon as I

have taken leave of the Elector and the Electress. The hour named

for receiving me is at eleven. Will you be there?"

"I think not," answered Agnes, in a voice that trembled slightly.

"Then, dear lady, I will bid you farewell now," said Algernon Grey,

using a strong command over every word and every tone. "Believe me, I

am deeply grateful for all the kindness you have shown me, and shall

remember the days I have passed here, though several have been days of

imprisonment, as amongst the brightest things of life."

He had intended, when he went thither, to explain to her his

situation; and had Agnes uttered one word, which could have led to the

subject, it would have been done at once. But for a time she remained

silent; and he felt that to obtrude such a topic would be but too

plainly to indicate the feelings of his heart towards herself.

When she did reply, she merely said, "You are generous to express any

gratitude to me. I have but shown you common kindness, while all the

debt is on my side. I, too, shall recollect these hours with pleasure,

as having enabled me, however poorly, to show the thankfulness that is

in my heart for the noble and gallant conduct which delivered me at a

moment when a terrible death seemed certain. I do not think my uncle

will be present, either, to-morrow; but I know he will grieve much not

to see you before you go; and if you like to give him such

satisfaction, you will find him at the fort, called the Trutzkaiser,

where he is causing some alterations to be made."

She spoke quite calmly, though her cheek still remained colourless. At

one or two words, indeed, her voice trembled; but there was no other

emotion visible.

Algernon Grey took her hand, and pressed his lips upon it, saying,

"Farewell! Agnes, farewell!"

"Farewell!" she answered; "may you ever be as happy as I am sure you

deserve!"

He shook his head sadly, withdrew, and closed the door.

The moment he was gone, Agnes sank into the chair where she had been

sitting, covered her eyes with her hand, and seemed to gasp for

breath. The next instant, however, she raised her head high, cast back

the glossy hair from her face, and exclaimed, "This is nonsense, this

is folly! People, with their idle warnings, have put such vain

imaginations in my head. But they are gone, and that is over;" and,

drawing the paper to her, she strove to write again.

CHAPTER VIII.

Once more the courts of the castle of Heidelberg were crowded with

horses and servants; once more guest after guest was arriving, not now

for the purposes of revelry and mirth, but for the more serious object

of hearing the decision of the Prince upon a question destined to

affect the course of his whole life.

Amongst the rest who rode in, followed by their servants, were the two

young Englishmen, with whom this history has been so busy. There was

no hesitation now as to their admission; and, following some

gentlemen, who had dismounted in haste before them, they were soon in

the hall, where the Elector was receiving his court. No ladies were

present, but a door was open on his left, through which the sweet

tones of woman's voice were heard; and Algernon Grey remarked, that

several of those present, though not all, after having spoken for a

moment with the Prince, passed on, and entered the chamber to which

that door led.

Through the greater part of the crowd--for the hall was already nearly

full--seemed to reign a sort of joyful enthusiasm. Every countenance

beamed with high thoughts; every voice spoke in gay tones; and nothing

but satisfaction seemed to be spread around by the tidings, which were

now general throughout the whole. If one or two of the noblemen,

indeed, who stood immediately round the prince, bore a graver and more

sedate aspect, it might well be attributed to courtly ceremony; and

Frederic's own face, though there was nothing like thoughtless

merriment upon it, was cheerful and serene, as if well and fully

contented with the determinations to which he had come.

After waiting for a few minutes till several others had passed,

Algernon Grey and his cousin approached and saluted the Prince.

"You have come somewhat late, gentlemen," he said; "but, nevertheless,

I am right glad to see you here; and I trust you, sir," he continued,

speaking to Algernon, "will understand the motives on which I have

acted towards you, and, in your generous nature, will forgive and

forget any pain I may have felt myself called upon to inflict."

"Entirely, sir," replied the young Englishman; "and I do assure your

Highness, that I come to take my leave of you with a heart free from

all rancour towards any one in your court."

"Ere I receive your farewell, sir," replied Frederic, "I will beseech

you kindly to pass into the Queen's chamber, on the left, where your

own fair Princess may have something to say to you;" and he pointed

with his hand to the door which has been mentioned.

Algernon Grey bowed and walked on, followed by Lovet, who whispered,

ere they reached the reception-room of the Princess, "You hear! she is

queening it already. Mind that you give her, the Majesty."

The next moment they had the whole scene of Elizabeth's saloon before

them; and, although it would seem that there had been a certain degree

of preparation, to produce a greater effect, yet assuredly there was

enough to move even cold hearts to enthusiasm. There sat the young

Princess of England, still in the first freshness of early life,

without one charm impaired, one grace lost. Her eyes were lighted up

with the fire of enterprise and courage--her lip smiling with warm

hopes--her whole form breathing energy and courage. Even in the hand,

which--stretched forth on the small table before her--grasped a roll

of papers, might be seen the firm, unconquerable, yet mild, spirit

within. Around and behind her stood a number of the ladies of her

court,--all beautiful, all radiant with the same enthusiastic light

which beamed in their sovereign's face. Scattered through the room,

with one or two a little advanced, and one close to the table at which

the Electress sat, were all the first men of the Palatinate, young and

old: some with white hair, and faces scarred and seamed; some in the

prime of vigorous manhood; some with the faintly traced moustaches,

showing the first step of adolescence; and, mixed with these, were

nobles and princes from several other lands, ready to peril life and

fortune for the fair being before them.

The buzz of conversation spread around; gay smiles were on every face,

the expectation of grand events in every breast; and the rich crimson

hangings of the room, the gay dresses, the gold, the varied hues, the

lace and jewel sparkling in the sun, rendered the scene, to the eye,

as bright and impressive as a knowledge of the occasion, and

anticipation of the results of that meeting, made it matter of deep

interest to the thoughtful mind and feeling heart.

Algernon Grey paused for a few minutes near the door, gazing over the

various groups, and meditating upon all he saw, while the Princess

spoke in a low tone with the gentleman at the table. He was a fine

looking old man, with a keen eye and a powerfully built frame; and,

ever and anon, he bowed his head with a grave smile, and answered

something in the affirmative to what the Electress said.

At length the young Englishman saw her eye rest upon himself and

Lovet; and as soon as her conversation with the other seemed brought

to a close, he was about to step forward, when Elizabeth raised her

voice, and, looking round, said aloud, in a peculiarly clear and

silvery voice, "Princes and noble gentlemen, you have heard from my

lord and husband the decision he has come to on the petition of the

wronged Bohemian states, that he will take upon him the crown of that

country, of which his own acts have deprived Ferdinand of Grätz, now

emperor. I have no voice to tell the many mighty reasons which induced

him, without aught of personal ambition, to accede to the wishes of a

brave and indomitable nation, who sought in him both a ruler and a

defender. Nor do I think it needful that I should. I will only ask,

who would refuse the task? Who would reject the cry of the oppressed?

Who would not become the defender of a brave nation struggling merely

for its just rights? However, it is not to be denied that there are

difficulties and dangers in the way, that mighty powers are opposed to

us, that every effort of the oppressor, that every means which

subtlety and despotism can employ, will be used to frustrate the

efforts made for the maintenance of the privileges of the German

princes, for the establishment of religious and political freedom

amongst the members of this great confederation. I speak of these

things as a woman; and, doubtless, my husband has explained them to

you as a man. He has asked your aid, and, if need should be, your

swords to support him, and, in supporting him, the freedom of the

whole Germanic empire, princes and people alike, in maintaining the

rights of every class, and freedom of faith, as the birth-right of our

citizens. I appeal to you as a woman; I can use no such strong

arguments; I ask you, who will support with counsel and in arms

Elizabeth Stuart? On your chivalry, on your gallantry, on your

devotion I rely. I will found my throne upon the swords of such as

those who now surround me; and if the hands that bear those swords be

willing, as I believe they are, that banner has not yet been raised

upon earth which can prevail against them."

She spoke eagerly, warmly, but without effort. It seemed as if the

words sprang from the heart to the lips, born of the feelings, and

uttered without thought. Her cheek glowed; her lip trembled with

emotion; her eye flashed; and, when in the end it became dim with

glittering dew, as the last sounds vibrated on the ear, an

enthusiastic murmur burst from the crowd, and almost every one took a

step forward to express his devotion to her cause.

There was one, however, who was before the rest, a strong and gallant

looking man, of seven or eight-and-twenty years of age, whose hair and

beard, notwithstanding his youth, showed here and there a line of

grey.

"Who is that?" asked Algernon, speaking to a gentleman near, as the

other advanced straight towards the table.

"That is Christian of Anhalt; Christian, the younger; his father

stands there behind--what is he about to do?"

"Madam," said Christian of Anhalt, bending low, "I will beseech your

Majesty for a glove."

With a look of some surprise Elizabeth drew the glove from her hand,

and gave it to him.

Deliberately, but quickly, he fastened it beneath the jewelled clasp

which held the feather in his hat; and, pointing to it with a proud

smile, exclaimed,--"In court, and camp, and battle-field, I will bear

this token of my service to your Majesty, till death lays my head

beneath the turf--so help me, God!"

Craven, who had stood near, merely touched the hilt of his sword with

his finger, and said, "Madam, this is yours, and with it my whole

heart."

"And ours, and ours, and ours," cried a number of voices round, in

every tone of enthusiasm.

Elizabeth spread forth her hands, as if overcome by the burst of

energetic love which her words had called forth; and then, pressing

her fingers on her eyes for a moment, remained silent. The next

instant she raised her head, showing the traces of tears.

"Thanks, thanks!" she cried; "I now am well assured. Yet will I not

spare one noble cavalier, who has a gallant heart to fight for a

lady's service; for they can wield swords in case of need; and we

shall have to think of marching armies and rude shocks of war, where

men are in their place. From these, and worse than these, if need may

be, I will not shrink myself; but, by my husband's side, will

encounter weal or woe until the last. Ladies, however, I will dispense

with, as much as possible; for I have no right to take them from their

softer duties, to share those tasks fate has allotted me. The Countess

of Löwenstein has her husband's good leave to follow him to war, as

war will be perchance, and my sweet friend Amelia of Solms follows me

for my love. Though my train will thus be small, yet, with such

princely nobles round me, I shall want no kind tendance; and, as

friends and brothers, in them will I put my trust, in them my highest

hope. On Saturday next, our departure will take place. I beseech all,

who can prepare in time, to be ready then, and all others to follow.

Methinks, I am very nearly sure of all my husband's countrymen. I see

several of my own present. One has at once promised me his aid. What

say the others?--Will you not go, my lord?" and she fixed her eyes

directly upon Algernon Grey; "will you not support Elizabeth Stuart,

with a still young, but often tried sword? Will you not follow her,

where great deeds are to be done?"

"I say, like my friend Craven, madam," answered Algernon Grey, lightly

touching the hilt of his weapon; "this is your Majesty's, and with it

my whole heart. I go with you, of course; for it shall never be said

that honour called me, and I refused to follow."

"And you, sir?" continued Elizabeth, turning to Lovet; "we know your

reputation; you are a knight, brave, skilful, though fanciful, we have

heard. What says your fancy to our expedition?"

"Why, may it please your Majesty," answered Lovet, with a smile, "my

fancy, like a young and feeble child, is in leading-strings to my

noble cousin here. We have a compact that will not let us separate,

like a leash between two greyhounds. Henceforth, the noose of the

leash is in your hands. You may slip us at any prey you will; and I

warrant that we dash forward as far, or farther, than the rest. I

could have wished a few things altered, it is true; when, methinks,

the state of Bohemia, and your Majesty's prospects, would be both much

improved."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Elizabeth; "what may they be?"

"Why, first, and as the principal,--for the others are not worth

naming,"--Lovet answered, "more women in your Majesty's court. Depend

upon it, bright eyes are great inducements to great deeds--a soft sort

of whetstones for sharp swords, but yet they are so; and, besides, you

do not consider the unanimity which a number of ladies give to any

counsels."

"Methinks, you are jesting," answered the Princess; "at all events,

slanderous men have said that ladies bring rather discord than

unanimity."

"Discord amongst themselves," said Lovet; "but, if there be enough of

them, unanimity amongst men. It all depends upon the numbers. With

only two in your whole court, and some five or six hundred gentlemen,

all in love with them together, as in duty we are bound to be, the

wind of our sighs will toss about your banners in a strange fashion,

even if we do not turn our swords against each other's throats, in

order to reduce our numbers to the number of the fair. I do beseech

your Highness, supply us somewhat more bountifully with objects of

adoration. I frankly confess I am an idolater, and must have my share

of gods and goddesses."

"Well, well," replied Elizabeth, "that is a fault that may be amended.

Is there aught else you would cavil at, Sir William?"

"Nought, madam," answered the Englishman, "unless it be that I do

believe you will have so many gallant hearts all armed in your

defence, that the task will be too easy, and each man's mite of honour

not worth the having."

"There is a quality in glory," replied the English Princess, "that

expands it to embrace all who truly seek it. It is the heart and will

to do great deeds that truly merit honour. It were a poor and pitiful

thing, indeed, if it could fall down at opportunity. The world may

praise the fortunate man; even princes may raise, and courts may

applaud; but true honour is the diamond which, though only admired

when brought forth and cut, is of as high value even in the dark mine

as on an emperor's crown. Fortunate or unfortunate, with opportunity

or none, the man who, with a brave heart, arms himself in this our

righteous cause, shall still have glory for his meed; and times to

come, when his name is written, be it in tale or history, or the mere

record of the family-book, shall add, as a mark of ever-living honour,

'He was one of those who drew the sword for Frederic of Bohemia, and

Elizabeth, his queen; he was one of those who fought for a nation's

freedom from oppression; he was one of those who aided to establish

right against wrong, and set men's hearts and consciences at

liberty.'"

Elizabeth paused, with the marks of strong and enthusiastic emotions

visible upon her countenance, and a murmur of applause ran through the

assembled nobles, while one turned to the other; and, though perhaps

each might use a different mode of expression, there can be little or

no doubt that but one sentiment found utterance,--"Who would not fight

for such a being as that?"

After a brief silence, the Electress resumed:--"A thousand thanks,

noble gentlemen, to all of you. Had there been a doubt or misgiving in

my heart, your words would have removed it; and now I will beseech

you, as you go hence, speak once more with my noble husband, and give

him, or rather his master of the horse, your names, and the number of

followers you will bring with you: not that we may count our strength,

for we have no apprehensions, but that lodging and provision for our

train may be fully provided by the way: Farewell! And once more

thanks! deep, heartfelt thanks!" Thus saying, she rose and retired

through the door behind her, followed by her ladies.

Slowly, and conversing as they went, the gentlemen there assembled

returned to the hall, where they had left the Elector and his court;

and each, passing before him, spoke to him a moment in turn. When at

length Algernon Grey approached, the Elector addressed him with a

smile, as if quite sure that his purpose had been changed.

"Well, sir," he said, "are you still determined to bid us farewell?"

"For a brief space, your Highness," replied Algernon Grey. "I

understand you do not take your departure till Saturday next."

"Not till Saturday week next," said the Elector; "but I hope then you

will bear me company; for my fair wife, who reckons much upon her

eloquence, counted fully on winning you to our cause."

"I will go with your Majesty," replied Algernon Grey; "and will but

take my leave for a short time, in order that I may make preparation

for serving you more effectually. I have with me but a few servants

now; but I think, ere long, I may be enabled to swell your force with

a small troop of followers not inexperienced in the trade of war. Some

have served with me in this Venetian business; and though they

returned to England, when there was no longer employment for their

swords, yet they will gladly join me again in such a cause as this."

"But if you go back to your own land, you can never be here in time,"

said the Elector. "Remember, there is but ten days."

"England will not see me for many a year, my lord," answered Algernon

Grey; "but I can make my arrangements better elsewhere than here. I

will be ready to accompany your Majesty on the day named. My followers

can join me at Prague; and though you may not see me till the very

day, do not doubt of my coming, I beseech you."

"I will not," said the Elector, earnestly; "I will not. When such a

man has given his word, it is better than the bond of other people.

How many men, think you, will you have with you? We will have food and

lodging ready for them all."

"Not so, your Majesty," replied Algernon Grey; "I defray my own

followers, wherever I be. Lodging, indeed, it may be necessary to

find; for the peasantry of the country--ay, and the citizens of the

town, have a grand objection, it would seem, to receive strangers in

their houses, especially if they be soldiers; and therefore, in this,

perhaps, your Majesty's officers must interfere, otherwise it may be

difficult to find quarters at once. The number, however, will be about

from forty to fifty. Their arms, their clothing, and their food, must

be my affair; the rest your Majesty shall provide."

"Leaving little but thanks to furnish," answered Frederic. "However,

be it as you will, my noble friend; I am neither poor enough, nor

wealthy enough, to take so generous an offer amiss. Farewell for the

present; and if you should want aid in any case, two words to our

chancellor will be enough to bring it."

CHAPTER IX.

The next ten days in the world's history are like those minutes of the

night, where the hour strikes just as the eyes are closed to sleep,

and a period passes by unnoted, except by those who dream. There are

many such pauses in all annals, where no event marks the passing time

on the recording page; and yet how full of interest to many are these

unstoried lapses in the march of time. How many gay scenes, how many

sad ones, how much of comedy, how much of tragedy, have been enacted

in the days not chronicled? How many events have taken place in narrow

domestic circles, which, spreading wider in their influences, like the

ripples round a stone cast into a clear lake, have carried, almost

imperceptibly, the floating fragments of great things to the shore of

fate?

I have said that these ten days passed over unnoted, except by those

who dream; but one of those was Algernon Grey, who, at the small town

of Mannheim, passed the intervening space between his leave-taking of

the king of Bohemia, and his return to Heidelberg, busied, to say the

truth, more with deep thoughts than important arrangements. His

letters were soon written, his courier soon despatched, and all those

measures taken which were necessary to call a lordly following to

accompany him on his expedition, and to insure rapid supplies of money

to meet even more than his own probable expenses. The rest of his time

was given up to meditation; for he had left Lovet at Heidelberg,

agreeing at once that the short distance which separated them could be

considered no infringement of the engagement into which they had

entered.

Close rooms in narrow inns have neither a very wholesome nor a very

pleasant character. Such as the small fortress, that Mannheim was in

those days, could alone afford, offered no great inducement to remain

within doors; and the greater part of Algernon's time was spent in

wandering by the glistening waters of the Rhine; and, while the

current hurried rapidly by, in drawing images of life and human fate

from the bright ripples, as they danced and fled beneath his eye.

However those images might arise, the train still led him on to the

place which he had lately left, and to one fair dreamlike form which

rose before him as a remembered vision of delight. All that had taken

place immediately before that hour, all the joys and sorrows he had

known, would have been but as phantasms, had not still enduring and

immortal passion stamped the whole with the mark of reality, and told

him that the bitterness was true, and only the dream of happiness that

was false.

Few scenes could have been worse chosen to chase such sombre thoughts,

to wake him from those dreams of the heart which he believed he had

indulged too long. The merry crowd, the gay, enlivening multitude, the

ever shifting scenes of busy life might have led on thought after

thought to occupy each hour, and banish vain regrets. The grander

scenes of nature, the towering mountain, the deep valley, the

profound, dark lake, the tempest and the storm, the forest, with its

solemn glades and innumerable trees, might well have possessed him,

even though it were at first but in part, with other images, and

weaned him, if I may so call it, from the engrossing topic which now

mastered all his mind. But that calm, grand river, flowing on in its

meditative majesty, with sunshine and brightness on its peaceful

waters, and none to break, even for a moment, the monotony of

solitude, seemed to counsel thoughts of peace, and joy, and love, and

spread, like a charm, over the young wanderer the powerful, passionate

calmness in which it itself flows on. Agnes Herbert, she whom he loved

beyond all power of forgetfulness, was ever present to his heart and

mind. He thought of her in her sparkling beauty, as he at first beheld

her, in scenes of revelry and joy: he thought of her in agony and

helplessness, as he had seen her in the whirling waters of the dark

Neckar: he thought of her in calm serenity and high-minded meditation,

as they had wandered together over the moonlight terraces, amidst

gardens, and woods, and flowers. And he loved her, oh, how he loved

her! How his heart yearned, how his bosom panted to return and press

her in his arms; but that a dark and irrevocable barrier stood

between, and mocked the eager longing of his love.

The common things of life seemed nothing to him; the ordinary events

of the day, the meal-time and the sleeping hour, scarcely broke the

lapse of the long, only dream. It was ever, ever Agnes, that was

present; and when his eyes, worn down by weariness, were closed to

waking things, she came upon the wings of the night, and visited his

spirit in his sleep. He felt--he could not but feel--that to his

peace, at least, her presence was less dangerous than her absence.

Thus passed day after day, till the last of his sojourn at Mannheim

came; and then, to his surprise, by a boat towed up the Rhine, some

eight or ten of his old followers, whom he expected not for weeks,

presented themselves at the landing-place. His messenger had proved

speedy and intelligent; and all those whom he had found in London, he

had urged to hurry into Germany without delay.

The activity of preparation which followed, gave some relief to their

young lord's mind; and on the same night he set out to return to

Heidelberg, at which place he arrived some two hours after dark,

taking his way direct to the inn where he had formerly lodged, and

where he had left his cousin.

The town, as he passed through, showed a gay and animated scene; for

whatever portion of monotony had existed therein, while the streets

presented nothing but their usual population of citizens and students,

was now removed by the appearance of numerous parties of military

retainers, whose arms here and there caught the light, as they passed

by the unclosed windows, from which the beams of taper or lamp were

streaming forth. All those inventions which give to our streets of the

present times, a light little less powerful than that of day, were

then unknown. No gas displayed the face of house after house in long

perspective; no lamp at every corner of the street showed the wanderer

his way; no lantern, even, swung across with awkward chains, afforded

a dim light to horseman or driver, as he paced slowly along in the

midst of the tall and narrow streets. But, nevertheless, every here

and there a faint beam, straying through the dull small pane of

greenish glass in some still uncurtained casement, fell upon the gay,

laced cloak, or brilliant cuirass, which appeared for an instant in

the midst of some military party, and was then lost again the moment

after, bequeathing the light to the wearer's successor in the ranks.

Round the door of the Golden Stag a great number of persons of

different classes were assembled; and some of them seemed to be

engaged in the pleasant occupation of wrangling with the host, or his

servants, in regard to accommodation for the night. No vain and

ridiculous attempt had been made at that time to regulate the ordinary

dealings of one man with another, by the incessant intervention of the

police, which at all times aggravates the confusion which men pretend

it is established to diminish. The interests of each individual were

left to adjust themselves with those of others by the natural course,

with this safeguard, that justice was always to be obtained promptly

when injustice or wrong was committed; but there was no endeavour to

make men walk in a straight line, if they liked a crooked one,

provided that crooked line did not trespass upon the comfort or rights

of any one else. A few disputes might, and did occur, as was the case

at the door of the Golden Stag; but they very soon came to an end;

for, knowing that the innkeeper was as much the lord of his own inn as

the baron of his own castle, men satisfied themselves with grumbling,

when they were told there was no room for them, and sought another

lodging with the more haste, because accommodation seemed to be

scarce.

As soon as the worthy host perceived Algernon Grey, however, he and

his drawers bowed down to the ground. The young gentleman was assured

that his old apartments, according to his orders, were kept quite

ready for him; and, although his entertainer viewed the numbers of his

swollen train with some degree of apprehension, yet great care was

taken to say nothing before the crowd, which could give any

disappointed gentleman cause to suppose that such a party was received

without previous notice of its numbers.

When the horses had been delivered over to the care of hostlers and

horse-boys, under the superintendence of the young Englishman's

servants, and Algernon Grey and his host were ascending towards the

rooms above, then poured forth the difficulties. Where he was to put

the train; how he was to accommodate them; what room he could find for

so many; where he was to get beds even of an inferior description,

were mighty puzzling questions for the worthy landlord, with his house

quite full. Nevertheless, all was at length arranged. The ante-chamber

was filled with truckle-beds and mattresses on the floor; the room by

the side of Algernon's own bed-room received five of his companions;

and two more obtained lodging in the rooms previously appropriated to

his servants.

This being all arranged, he descended to the public hall, where Lovet,

he was informed, was profoundly engaged with his supper. He found him

surrounded by half a dozen German gentlemen, with whom he had made

acquaintance, eking out very good French, of which they could

understand a part, with very bad German, of which they understood not

quite so much. They comprehended, however, that he was laughing at

everything and everybody--himself amongst the rest--and, smoothing

their beards, and curling up their moustaches, they seemed to derive a

considerable portion of grave amusement from his merriment, which, to

say the truth, directed several shafts among themselves, although they

were utterly insensible of the point.

"Ah, Algernon!" exclaimed Lovet, starting up and laying down his

knife; "I thought you were as treacherous as a Chloe, and had vanished

from my sight with some swan of the Rhine. Welcome back to Heidelberg;

but have you heard the news?"

"No," answered Algernon Grey; "are there any changes?"

"No," answered Lovet, "none that I have heard of. The Elector and his

party, numbering, with ourselves, some six hundred horse, set out

to-morrow a quarter of an hour after daybreak. The Electress follows

somewhat later with a body of chosen cavaliers to guard and accompany

her. All the world is so full of enthusiasm, that if any man were to

say 'Come with me and conquer Turkey, let us sack Hungary, or pillage

Russia,' they would all go without asking whether the way lay either

north or south. Good faith! I am as enthusiastic as the rest; and,

like one of a flock of sheep in a dark night, I am all agog to

jostle shoulders with my fat companions on whatsoever road the great

bell-wether leads."

"And what road is that to be?" asked Algernon Grey.

"Heaven only knows!" exclaimed Lovet, sitting down to the table again;

"I have asked no questions. All I know is, that we make straight for a

place with an inconceivable name, something like Waldsaxon, a town in

the upper Palatinate. I sent on all your spare horses, as they

arrived, together with three or four I had purchased for myself,

telling the grooms to find the road the best way they could, and so

they are probably now in the heart of Austria."

"Nonsense, nonsense, Lovet," cried his cousin; "where have the men

gone to? If we are to make a rapid march, as doubtless will be the

case, we must have the means of remounting; and a mistake would be no

jest."

"Assuredly not," answered Lovet; "and, as I have scarcely time to

finish my supper, before soft devotion calls me hence, sit down and

take some food, and I will tell you, most noble cousin---- Here, bring

platters and knives, fellows; more wine, more meat, more everything

Well, cousin mine, looking on a fair picture of the country, I sent

the men on half way to a place called Altdorf, bidding them there wait

for our coming, and take especial care to get themselves dead-drunk,

if it were possible, for the three consecutive days after their

arrival. You will mark the policy, wise Algernon; for, as a man must

get drunk sometimes, and always will get drunk in his master's

absence, it was much better that they should do it by command than in

disobedience; and, fixing on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for the

operation, I left them Friday for lassitude, and Saturday for

refreshment; so that, by the time we arrive, they will be as brisk as

larks, and the horses, if they have got drunk, likewise.--This

partridge, stewed with sour cabbage, is the only excellent thing I

have found in Germany--with one exception, cousin Algernon, with one

exception. I beseech you, take a wing thereof; for I would fain share

with you as far as possible; and of the other good, which fortune

sends me, I cannot even spare a sigh--much less a merry-thought.--What

will you have in the way of wine? Here is Burgundy, for which I sent a

man express into the heart of France; and here is the juice of the

Rhinegau, with some drops from the bishop of Bamberg's cellar, of

which he was plundered when last the quarrelsome men of this country

fought about they knew not what."

Algernon Grey sat down, and, after musing for a minute or two, joined

his companion in his meal. The conversation went on in the same tone

in which it had begun: Lovet evading, under cover of his habitual

jesting replies, any direct answer to unpleasant questions. Upon some

points, however, Algernon Grey pressed him hard, asking if the

Electress had made any change in her arrangements; and, when he said,

laughing, "I am not one of her counsel, cousin mine," pursuing the

inquiry by demanding, "Has she made any that you know of, William?"

"Oh, a hundred," answered Lovet; "she goes in a carriage instead of on

horseback, they tell me: her gown is to be green instead of pink--but,

good faith! I must away. I shall see you, doubtless, ere you go to

sleep, though strong repose to-night will be needful; for we shall

have busy days before us; and, if the devil has not grown old and

lazy, there is work ready carved out to occupy every minute of the

next two years. What a happy thing it is, Algernon, that there is a

devil; were it not for him the waters of the world would stagnate and

get all over duck-weed, like a standing pool. Nay, do not look grave,

grim cousin! Adieu! adieu!" and away he went, leaving Algernon Grey to

make his arrangements for the following morning as best he could.

Habituated, however, as the young Englishman had been from his very

boyhood to command and direct, no great difficulties attended his