"Never! never!" exclaimed he, seizing her hand, hearts ready to devote themselves to the happiness of and pressing it to his heart. "Hear, Gertrude, the each other. Let ours be the love that casts out fear. dark secret of my destiny. I was doomed by a myste-Why should we dread any thing? Can there be harm rious power to tread a pathway at variance with every in loving each other as we do-without wishing evil to desire, every object of my heart. My nativity was any one in the whole world?" cast by an astrologer, who is capable of reading the unseen mysteries of futurity, and my fears tell me, too truly, that there is reality in his predictions."

"Heaven must inspire your words, Gertrude," replied Montauban; "but will you ever think and speak thus? Perhaps many weary days and even years may re-elapse before we meet again."

Gertrude looked at Montauban, while he was lating the incidents of his future destiny, with a countenance of unutterable astonishment. At last she interrupted him:

"Henrie, is it possible that you are superstitious? Can you believe that the stars know any thing of our destiny, or that any being but the God who made us, can direct it ?"

He shuddered, while he replied-

"Look at the blue sky that bends over us, Henriea cloud may obscure it, but you are certain that it will pass away and leave the bright arch as beautiful as ever. So shall my heart be, through changing years."

The pastor was the first person who met the lovers, on their return from the glen. Gertrude saw that her father was disturbed, and kissing his hand, with the usual morning salutation, passed on, leaving Montauban to tell him the result of their interview. The

"Listen, Gertrude, before you pronounce me weak. I have always had a consciousness that there is a super-good De Fleurie, heard with painful interest, a tale natural agency at work against me, and that my father the Baron Montauban, and his confessor, are only instruments employed for my misery. My experience, thus far, has confirmed this belief; and now, Gertrude, I am going to ask you a question on which hangs more than my tongue can express."

"Nothing that I can say, dear Henrie, shall ever give you trouble-fear not to speak your whole heart to me. Perhaps there is something that I can do to relieve you of this strange delusion."

which involved so deeply the future peace of his family; and but for his confidence in the mercy of a superintending Providence, he would have trembled at the idea of drawing down the anger of the proud Baron on the humble roof which had sheltered his son, and, in extending kindness, incurred the vengeance due to the guilty only. He found Montauban unmoved by his arguments to dissuade him from thinking of an union with the daughter of an exiled Huguenot. He called for Gertrude, hoping to awaken her mind to the evils of

"Would to Heaven it were," muttered the lips of so rash and presumptuous a step. While she listened to Montauban. "Gertrude are you a heretic?"

"What do you mean by a heretic? I thought you knew that we are Huguenots, exiled on account of our faith. My father is a preacher of the pure gospel, and does not own himself a heretic, though the haughty prelate, Richelieu, calls him so."

"Too fatal !" exclaimed Montauban. "The curse of heresy !'-this is now fulfilled-but the warning comes too late. From this hour I war against the decrees of destiny."

Gertrude startled :

"What does he mean! Oh! Henrie, your words agonize me! Why do you tremble so? Is not Gertrude near you? Did you not say it was my voice alone that could soothe your grief? What must I do to ward off the evil that threatens you? Oh! believe that Gertrude is happy or miserable as you are."

her fond parent's words, with the reverence of filial duty, she confessed that it was impossible to sever the bonds of the heart which united her to Montauban. She would obey her father, but she could not forget Henrie-even though in obedience to him, they should never meet again. De Fleurie could scarcely repress a tear in witnessing the emotion of these two young hearts, (separating, as he believed, forever;) and placing the hand of Gertrude in Montauban's, he exacted a promise from both of them that they would hold no communication with each other, until Henrie had spent two years, at least, amidst the gaieties and magnificence of the French court.

Montauban left the hamlet, confident that he should not be forgotten by her whose image would be to him the talisman of hope and perseverance in all his trials. He was wending his way towards the monastery of the Benedictines, when he was overtaken by a horseman. The traveller inquired if he was in the direct

The enraptured Montauban clasped the angelic girl to his heart, and, in spite of the maledictions of fate, vowed to live for her only. He told her of the malig-road to the monastery, and being answered in the nant powers which opposed his alliance with a heretic, of the awful prediction connected with this event, and of the probable loss of every blessing, except that of her love.

"But this is not all, Gertrude," he said; "the wrath of an invisible power may descend on both of us, in an incensed father's hatred. Persecution, perhaps death, may be the fruit of my rebellion against the mandate of the church; and yet I feel, that dying with you is better than living the magnificent, but miserable toy, that a court would make me."

“Henrie,” said Gertrude, “I cannot put confidence in these omens; my faith has given me a surer guide to trust in; but I do believe in the responses of nature, and that Heaven does not frown on the union of two

affirmative, passed on. Montauban's curiosity was excited by the appearance of a stranger bound towards his own destination, and he walked on more rapidly. On arriving, he was presented with despatches requiring his immediate departure from the monastery, and appearance at the capital of France. To facilitate his arrival, the express who had overtaken him was despatched. The Baron feared his son might not have thought the first summons so urgent as to hasten his movements-and as the favorable moment to introduce him into the great minister's household might arrive before he was aware of it, he pressed him to lose no time on the way. The aspiring Cardinal had reached the height of his glory, and had places and even kingdoms in his gift. His prime agents, in all these plans of aggrandizement,

were the Baron, and his confessor, Joseph. The statesman wished to attach the former more firmly to his interest; and hearing, through the artful speech of the confessor, of the elegant accomplishments and personal grace of the young Montauban. he suggested to the Baron his wish to see the heir of his house, and, if he answered his expectations, introducing him to the court on the approaching festival. The ambitious father thought he could almost see the coronet glitter on the brow of the future representative of his house, as he marked the high approbation with which the Cardinal surveyed the fine person and noble bearing of Henrie. There was an indifference to rank and titles about the young Montauban, that pleased the minister, who saw all around him restless to obtain favors. Besides this, he found his new favorite skilled in letters-able to unravel the abstruse questions of the schoolmen. In this lore the prelate himself showed some vanity, and boasted of being a patron of learning. He soon elevated Montauban to the first place in his household, and showered on him all the favors that the jealousy of the court, against a new favorite, would permit. Henrie Montauban submitted to be an actor in the pageantry of the court, without an emotion of any thing but disgust and abhorrence; yet from reasons of policy, he determined to conceal his feelings, while the term of his probation continued, and, as far as his conscience permitted, conform to the observances required of him. As soon as the Baron saw Montauban established in the good graces of Richelieu, he began again to move the spring of his ambitious views. He pretended to ask the minister's influence to negotiate a marriage between his son and the young Countess of Artois. The Cardinal fixed his proud and searching eye on the Baron, without perceiving the sinister motive lurking beneath the fair seeming of his words.

“Montauban, how dare you propose an alliance between one of my household and the Count of Artois ? You know he is the secret instigator of my enemies. I have hitherto passed him by in my wrath; but I was wrong-he shall no longer be overlooked."

sentation at the court. He sent for Montauban the day before the brilliant spectacle was to take place, and informed him of the distinguished part he was to perform in it, as the most favored of his household, and next the Countess in the heart of the prelate. Henrie evinced his readiness to perform the wishes of his patron, but without that elation of spirit so natural to a young courtier, on being promoted to so proud an eminence. The minister thought it the dignity of a superior mind, and admired his favorite still more for it. It required the penetrating eye of father Joseph, to see, beneath the calm surface of Montauban's manner, the agitation of a mind ill at ease. He knew what was the fervid temperament of the boy-it scorned a cold medium. There must be some concealment of a passion, that occupied his energies and made him insensible to every thing around him.

The hour of the grand gala approached, and the retinue of the Cardinal was to receive the young Countess at the vestibule of his palace, and thence conduct her into the presence of majesty. First in the cortege appeared Montauban, distinguished above all the other gallants by the splendor of his costume. But what gave peculiar lustre to his presence, was the symbol he wore on the right shoulder-this was the "order of the holy cross"-composed of the finest diamonds, and only conferred on such as had obtained the highest place in the royal favor. The rustling of silken drapery announced the approach of the Countess and her female train. The envious eyes of the courtiers in waiting, were turned on the young favorite of Richelieu, as he advanced to receive the Countess, who appeared surrounded by a band of young ladies, all brilliantly attired, though none rivalling the magnificence of the Cardinal's niece, the richness of whose dress, marked her out in the glittering throng. A tissue of silver and gold invested her figure, which was of less than middle height, but greatly disproportioned in rotundity, which gave her carriage a most ungraceful stiffness. The costly necklace, composed of pure diamonds, might have adorned a bosom of less earthly swell than the one on which it rested. Yet the face of the Countess De Mailleé might not have been devoid of beauty in other eyes than those of Henrie Montauban, who contrasted it with the almost spiritual loveliness of Gertrude de Fleurie. The Countess's mother was of Spanish extraction, and the daughter bore a resemblance to the race from which she sprung, in the soft and clear olive of her complexion, and the deep lustre of her black eyes and hair. Her lips, cheeks, and forehead, gave the idea of chiselled smoothness and symmetry; and the long silken lashes, drooping pensively over the full orbs beneath, all were beautiful in themselves, and would have inspired the beholder with delight, but for an expression of the countenance, that they were intended to minister to the senses rather than the soul. The Cardinal presented his young protegé to his niece, with the most flattering expressions of commendation. She lifted her languid eyes to salute him. There was something about the young stranger that caught her attention, and soon fixed it in admiraThe Cardinal was roused to immediate action on tion. The manly grace of his person, joined to the the subject, which was all the Baron wanted. He gave modest deference of youth, and the embarrassment directions for the Countess De Mailleé to be conducted which only revealed itself in a deeper crimson of the to his palace, and arrangements to be made for her pre-cheek, were new to eyes which had only gazed on

The Baron had gained his end-the Cardinal would select a match for his favorite, and doubtless it would be his own niece, the Countess De Mailleé.

The next day the Cardinal proposed gracing his court with the presence of the young Countess, still residing in the convent of St. Ann's for her education. "Most noble prelate," said the Baron, "the young lady is reported to be in languishing spirits."

"Impossible!" exclaimed the other; "she has just reached the sixteenth year of her age-the hey-day of youth and pleasure."

"It is said," replied the Baron cautiously, "that the Countess pines with a disease somewhat common to the

sex."

"What mean you?" exclaimed the Cardinal.

"That she has a hopeless passion for her confessor." If this be true," said the prelate-ire burning on his cheek-"the Abbess of St. Ann's will rue the day." "I know only what the many-tongued voice of report says," replied the artful plotter.

the dark and artful features of monks and confessors. She smiled in taking Montauban's arm,-his own trembled and she thought it a charming expression of the timid joy that filled his heart, in being promoted to the honor of escorting her.

"Your suspicions, father Joseph, seem preposterous, and yet they fill me with uneasiness." "Hasten these nuptials with the Countess, before they are verified," returned the father.

"Would to Heaven they were concluded,” replied the Baron. "The Cardinal alone has the power of ratifying |the contract."

"This is true, Baron Montauban; and still the haughty Richelieu may be forced to resign the Countess and her dowry of Lorraine, into the hands of your son, as soon as to-morrow, if you desire it."

"Are you dreaming, Joseph, or sporting with my credulity?"

"What, if the Holy See make it a condition of the accession of Lorraine, that its new governor pledge himself to take immediate possession for the extirpation of heresy and the establishment of the ancient rites of the church? I boast not my influence with the Pope, but I have power to enforce the ratification of this treaty when I think proper-and foreseeing the evil the remedy is provided."

The Baron blest the day that gave him so bright a prospect of success-for he could not doubt the augury of the astrologer, when he beheld the Countess and his son advance together to the foot of the throne, greeted by the acclamations of the crowd, and receiving | the smiles of majesty itself. Too indolent to reflect, and too weak to resolve, the monarch called upon his minister to award some princely gift to the young Countess, the heiress of the house of Richelieu. But the wary Cardinal knew too well the awakened jealousy of the court, to name, on this occasion, the fairest jewel in the crown, as the portion of his niece, and such was the ample domain to which he aspired. He thanked his majesty for his munificent designs, but declined naming any present for his niece. The king then extended his hand, which was kissed first by the Cardinal, then by the Countess and Montauban-after which the assembly dispersed, and the retinue of the minister conducted the Countess back to the palace. It was evident to every one that the Cardinal had chosen Montauban as the partner of his niece, though as yet, he had said nothing to either on the subject, for fear of revolting those affections which he wished time The following day the confessor requested admitto fix by constant intercourse. In the mean time he tance to the minister, and showed him the Pope's edict went into secret conclave with the Baron and father with respect to the occupation of Lorraine. He knew Joseph, with respect to a treaty with the Holy See, for the petulant and vascillating temper of his holy mathe province of Lorraine, which he wished as the mar-jesty, and that no time must be lost in executing the riage portion of his niece with Montauban. The ceremonials of the marriage between Montauban and Baron was anxious for this consummation, because on it the Countess. He desired the immediate attendance of hung his every hope; and still he could not help fearing the young courtier, figuring to himself the delighted there was no inclination on the part of his son towards surprise that would fill his bosom when he should hear the Countess, while her growing attachment for him from the lips of his indulgent patron himself the high admitted of no disguise. He could think of no cause destiny that awaited him. for this indifference, but the tale of the love affair be- The prelate was pacing the floor of his cabinet, tween her and the Abby de Lille, whispered in the pleasantly ruminating on the successful issue of this convent whence she came. He consulted father favorite project of his own mind, when Montauban enJoseph. He too had marked the coldness of Mon-tered. The stern visage of the minister relaxed its tauban, but came to a different conclusion.

"The Countess is not beloved by your son, Baron Montauban; but another is. Beneath the thick-ribbed ice, which seems to encrust his heart, a flame, deep as that which kindles Vesuvius, lives and burns in its hidden chambers."

The Baron looked at the monk as if he thought him endowed with supernatural power to control the destinies of men, while the other enjoyed the only triumph his dark soul coveted-the power of ruling the actions of men so as to effect his own purposes, without employing any visible agency.

usual harshness, as he greeted our hero, who was quite at a loss to conjecture the cause of this sudden suavity in the Cardinal's manner.

"Henrie Montauban," he began, "you are the heir of a faithful son of the church and loyal servant of the state." "I feel proud, my Lord Cardinal, of this last dis

"Impossible!" exclaimed the Baron, palid with emo- tinction, both for myself and my ancestors." tion. "He is insensible to female beauty."

"Since he has been here, I confess it," replied father Joseph; "but he may have seen some object to inspire love in the solitudes of the Rhine-and the early illusions of the fancy are hard to dispel."

The Baron clenched his teeth at the bare idea. "Joseph-does surmise only prompt these suspicions, or has rumor whispered this tale ?"

"But neither your own merit, let me inform you, young man, nor that of a proud ancestry, can raise you to that high eminence which the favor alone of Richelieu designs for his favorite. The first honor in the kingdom is yours."

"My lord, you astonish me," replied Montauban, standing in amazement-not able to comprehend the prelate's meaning; while dark and undefined forebodings passed through his mind of what this high destiny imported, not without a dread that it was connected with the Countess de Mailleé, whose preference for him was apparent to every eye, and seemed to meet the appro

"My suspicions are founded alone on the conduct of your son. I have marked that he always avoids any allusion to his residence at the monastery. I have purposely referred to it several times in conversation, and an instant change has come over the spirits of Mon-bation of the Cardinal. tauban, while his manner assumed a constraint, as if he were afraid of revealing something which he wished secret from my knowledge."

The prelate paused. Was it possible that Montauban's usual acuteness had not guessed the blessing in store for him! Must he be more explicit?

"Montauban, it is not my wont to trifle-time presses, | faculties had already hit on a plausible apology for the and I must inform you, in as few words as possible, of the good fortune that awaits you."

"I am unworthy, my lord, of higher honor than that already bestowed on me by your kindness,” replied the young favorite, in dreadful suspense. "I should feel oppressed by the obligation of receiving further favors at your hand."

conduct of his son. He began by an humble entreaty that his master would excuse the fondness of a father's love, which had sought to conceal a misfortune of nature from even his partial eye. He then informed him, that Montauban had been subject in boyhood, to a sort of mental alienation, which showed itself in fits of melancholy abstraction, and sometimes aversion to what was dearest and most pleasing to him at others—and this aberration was apt, most unfortunately, to succeed any deep emotion or sudden success. He had thought him entirely cured, and he still must believe no slighter cause, than one involving so much unexpected happi

"I know," resumed the Cardinal, "that all gifts are valueless in the eyes of a young lover, except the one that has fixed his heart. What say you to receiving the Countess de Mailleé as your bride, and the rich province of Lorraine as her princely dowry?" "Reverend prelate," exclaimed Montauban, (grasp-ness, would have thrown him into his present state. ing the pillar near him, and endeavoring to calm the deep agitation which shook his whole frame,) "it is too late to disguise. Were fortune, life, destiny at stake, I could not accept the honor you design me. I am not insensible to the high elevation to which you would raise me, or to the condescension of the Countess de Mailleé. I know, also, that I must brook the wrath of an offended father-the scorn of the world-not to speak, my lord, of the almost resistless power of your arm, which holds nations at defiance; and still I must, and do renounce all the favors in your bestowment, except this one, which I solicit on my knees-to leave France with the freedom of my own will."

The Cardinal believed the Baron-and not being able to divest himself of partiality for the son, felt his anger soften down into a still warmer regard, in which sympathy was mingled with admiration. It was determined that the union of the young couple should not be pressed, or even alluded to in the presence of the bridegroom elect, until his mind had resumed its natural tone of tranquillity. In the mean time he should be suffered to pursue the bent of his own mind, so as to feel that he was not acting under constraint. After settling these points, they returned to the cabinet, where they found Montauban awaiting them. His eyes were fixed upon the Baron, with an inquiring glance, but nothing was visible in the cold and placid smile of the diplomatist. In the prelate's manner there was a favorable change.

For a moment the minister could scarcely credit his own senses the next, his eyes shot arrows of scornful revenge at the youth who would dare to countervail his wishes. His proud spirit never stooped to the arts of per- "I see, Montauban," he said, "that the hot blood of suasion or remonstrance, even where he felt most indul-youth will not bear the rein of riper years—I leave gence. The quick vibration of his muscles, and the force with which he pulled the bell, were the only symptoms of his deep displeasure. His call was answered by the man in waiting.

time to chase the demon from your mind, and restore the hopes which should animate your bosom."

Henry only replied, that his feelings could never change, and hoped the Cardinal would not suffer him

"Let the Baron Montauban be requested to attend self to be deceived. me here, as soon as possible."

The waiter perceived there was a storm brewing on the brow of the minister, and withdrew with haste. Montauban's look was fixed on vacancy, and his mind absorbed in the probable consequences attendant on the step he had taken, when the Baron entered. His countenance wore the bland smile of the courtier,—but he no sooner turned from the lowering brow of the minister to the unmoved gloom of his son's, than he hid the keen presage of disappointment in the honied phrase of dissimulation.

"My good Lord Cardinal-and you, my sweet sonI hope no evil foreboding clouds the sunshine of our near happiness, that your visages wear the hue of grief rather than joy."

"Your son, Baron Montauban," said the Cardinal, darting a glance of contempt at Montauban, "declines an alliance with the poor house of Richelieu. He has hopes of a richer coronet than that which glitters on the brows of the Countess de Mailleé."

The Baron had used this stratagem only to deceive the Cardinal, and gain time to remove the obstacle which prevented his son from giving his assent to the marriage proposed by the minister. He lost not a moment in seeking father Joseph, and consulting him on the best course to be pursued. It was agreed between them, that the object of this fatal passion must be found, and put out of the way. To discover, and to remove the cause of obstruction to the Baron's plans, was a business that suited the sly ingenuity of the monk, and to him it was confided.

It was deep night when a rider left the postern gate of Paris. He carried the signet ring, and sped his course unmolested. His horse grew tired-the same symbol procured him another, and another, until the Benedictine gates opened to admit the legate of Holy Church-for such father Joseph purported to be in this embassage. The brethren paid all due rites of hospitality, and kissed the hand which bore some gracious behest of the Pope to their simple and reThe Baron struggled hard to command his rage at the tired fraternity. The monk inquired as to the distanfolly and madness of his son-but he knew to yield to ces and state of the neighboring convents, and casually, its force then would have lost him the hope of deceiv- as it were, referred to his having brought the young ing his master, and bending his son to the object of his Montauban to their monastery a few years ago. This great ambition. He said nothing to Montauban, but be- led to remarks on the peculiar habits and turn of mind sought the Cardinal to give him a moment's private of the young man, and his fondness for rambling hearing before he pronounced the penalty of such in-through the wild mountainous tracts that stretched begratitude and disobedience. The Baron's inventive yond the Rhine. The monks seeing father Joseph in

The monk had indeed singled out Gertrude from the crowd of young catechists, and marked the look of pensive thought which conveyed a volume of circumstantial evidence to his mind. A door of access to the hearts and confidence of this pious family, was opened for the monk, by their believing him to be a sharer in the same faith, and also a sufferer in the same trials which had dispersed the true followers of the Saviour

into the intimacy of friendship, and drew from the good pastor the secrets of his bosom. Night rolled her heavy car over the sleeping world, but so pleasant was the converse between the pastor and his new friend, that they could not separate. They spoke of the haughty Richelieu, and his cruel proscriptions of the Huguenots. Father Joseph became still more confiden

terested in the story of his old pupil, related the adventure by which he was near falling a sacrifice to his passion for roaming. The wily father inquired the name and residence of the kind villager who sheltered the sick lad and restored him to his rightful protectors. They only knew that he called himself De Fleurie, and lived near the foot of the mountain opposite. This was a sufficient clue. The traveller took his leave, regretting that his visits to the other monasteries would pre-in distant lands. In this way, he soon wound his way vent his seeing the Benedictines again. He could not doubt that Montauban's sojourn at the hamlet of this De Fleurie had something to do with the aversion he manifested towards a marriage with the Countess. About sunset the monk gained the opening prospect, and perceived beneath him the neat and simple cottages of the inhabitants of this quiet valley, peeping at intervals through the leafy bowers by which they were sur-tial. He wanted to feel the pulse of the other with rerounded. He stopped to survey the scene-not to enjoy its touching loveliness-but, like his arch antitype, to scan the most effectual breach. Some peasants happening to pass, he joined himself to their company, affecting to inquire for the nearest inn. He gradually drew from them the history of their little settlement, of which De Fleurie was pastor. This was enough to crush him with the Jesuit; but this was not all. The countrymen related with heartfelt affection, the sad tale of the persecution which had driven De Fleurie to take refuge, with his little flock, in this distant spot-where he lived in humble happiness, surrounded by a lovely family, all walking in his footsteps, and growing up to be the delight of the neighborhood where they dwell. The monk inquired the size and number of the pastor's family, and whether he had a son likely to succeed him as minister of the flock.

"Oh! yes," replied the one most enthusiastic in praise of the clergyman; "in time, master Robert will be such another. But it is Miss Gertrude, the eldest hope of the father, that shines the brightest star amongst them all. She is just grown up-and though she is handsome enough for a queen, she looks so gentle that the meanest creature needn't be afraid to speak to her."

"Good people," exclaimed the monk, appearing af fected by the picture of the pastor's family, "I also am one of the exiled remnant of the Lord's inheritance. I long to behold the pious brother you tell me of, and mingle my prayers and tears with his, for the restoration of Zion."

gard to the house of Montauban; and spoke of the Baron as not only an accomplice of the Cardinal in the persecutions they endured, but as the originator of the bloody deeds of which the minister had the credit. The countenance of De Fleurie changed, and exhibited uneasiness at this last communication. The Baron was encouraged to proceed. He whispered that some of the most independent minds had prophesied this thraldom would not continue much longer. God would rid his church of these enemies-but who would be his chosen instruments, was yet to be revealed. De Fleurie shuddered at the suggestion of a conspiracy.

"God, brother, will vindicate his own cause when he sees fit. To suffer is our part-to punish his." "Do you know the Baron Montauban, personally?" asked the monk.

"Not at all," replied De Fleurie; "but as the father of Henrie Montauban, I could have wished him a better man."

"Why should you suppose him better disposed than his father? He appears the true scion of the old stock of the Medicis. The seeds of cruelty and ambition confined, are springing up already, and promise to bear a full crop of bloody deeds in after life."

"Can it be possible ?" said the pious De Fleurie, heaving a deep sigh. "I had hoped differently."

He then told the monk the circumstance which brought the young Montauban to his house, and the interest which his unaffected and amiable manners had excited. He said nothing of the attachment between the stranger and his daughter-a subject that had always pressed on his heart; and now more then ever, after hearing so dark an account of his disposition towards the Huguenots. The ingenious monk perceived there was still something in the back-ground of the pastor's communication and touching another string. He spoke of the

The peasants heard, with veneration, the words of the monk, and gladly undertook to conduct him to De Fleurie's habitation. They found him seated under the elms that embowered his cottage, instructing the youth of his charge, in the simple but beautiful morality of the Sermon on the Mount. The stranger was intro-projected alliance between the houses of Richelieu and duced as a brother, in like manner suffering for the "testimony of Jesus ;" and the heart of the good De Fleurie embraced him, while his lips uttered a warm salutation. The peasant could not take his leave of the monk without whispering in his ear

"I thought you would not be long in noticing her. saw your eye fix upon her before I had time to point her out. But you mark that cast upon her face—it has come over her lately. A little while ago she was as light-hearted as the lark-but time will bring care, I reckon, even to the young."

Montauban as an event of ill omen to the Huguenots. The pastor expressed surprise. He had lived in perfect ignorance of what was transacting at the French court. There was deep solicitude in his countenance, as father Joseph related the general report, that a marriage between Henrie Montauban and the Countess de Mailleé would very shortly be consummated. While he thought with regret of the broken vows of the young lover, and the shock that poor Gertrude's spirits would receive at the tidings, he could not lament that the spell of enchantment would so soon be broken, and she return to