weep sometimes when I remember my loving father, my tender mother!"

"Mary," said the duke, somewhat sternly, though he permitted and returned the caress she proffered, pressing his lips passionately to her snowy forehead, deem me not selfish nor exacting. Thy parents have other children; I have but thee to love in the world. There have been before me Dukes of Bavaria, but none other save myself have been-shall be-the husband of Mary of Brabant. Since the day that made thee mine, I have mourned that the deep love my heart bore thee has been but coldly-nay, reproach me not! But I know thy gentle nature cannot feel a passion so absorbing, so powerful-"

"Thou art cruel to doubt me," murmured the wife, lifting her head from his bosom and gazing into his eyes, while her own were filled with

tears.

"Beloved, I doubt thee not. I but lamented that thy nature was so much gentler than my own; and yet an' it were not, I should not love thee half so much. Mine is a wayward heart, Mary. It will need all thy tenderness to pardon me.'

|

The duchess gazed admiringly for a few moments, then coming close to him, still unperceived, she laid her hand on his head, and said, in voice of a playful sweetness" Art thou summoning the muses, Conradin ?”

The boy started up, let fall his pencil, and blushed deeply; but soon recovering from his embarrassment, answered-"I had the will, dear aunt-would the power were equal! All the Hohenstauffens, you know, were poets; my grandsire, Frederic the Second, sang songs, and also mine uncle, Enzino, even in imprisonment. Ah, I have poetry within me, but I cannot utter it."

"Time will give thee speech," said the duchess, smiling affectionately. "Thou art yet too young, my Conradin."

"And

"As tall as your highness, my gracious aunt," exclaimed the young scion of Suabia. truly, methinks at twelve years old one is no longer a child. Have you not said, yourself, that I am a true Hohenstauffen? And has not mine uncle Louis taken pains to teach me what it is fitting a man should learn?"

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A very hero, in sooth!" cried Mary, laughing, and turning to Ida, her attendant. "Truly, I must betimes begin to embroider a scarf for the knight, Conradin of Suabia."

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Nay, aunt, I am not yet a knight, for I must first win the golden spurs," said the boy, drawing himself up proudly. "But if you choose to call me no more your dear cousin Conradin, call me King of Naples, for such I am!"

The confession speedily restored a smile to the lovely face of the duchess. The next moment they were interrupted by one of the duke's pages, who brought him a letter just delivered by a messenger. It seemed to be on business of moment, for the duke cut the string that secured its folds, and broke the seal impatiently; and his brow flushed as he read its contents. He was turning away, with something of boyMary watched him with eager anxiety. Dis-ish petulance, but the next moment the shade missing the page by a sign, the duke turned to passed from his brow; and taking the hand of his royal kinswoman, he raised it with an air of gallantry to his lips. "Were I even the emperor, as I hope one day to be, I should remain still your own Conradin !" And then he bounded away, singing as he went.

his wife.

"It is even as I thought, Mary; I must leave thee for a brief season. But cheer up;-thy tears would be an ill omen of my success. Go, now, and walk. I will join thee presently in my sister's apartment."

The duke left the room, and Mary, throwing a shawl over her shoulders, and summoning her favourite attendant, descended into the garden,

*

The coolness of the evening air was refreshing, and calmed the troubled thoughts of the youthful duchess. Accompanied by her attendant, she walked up and down the avenues of the garden till they came, almost unexpectedly, before a natural arbour, formed by interlacing boughs, over which crept a vine laden with golden and crimson flowers. The picture there presented arrested Mary's attention, she touched the arm of her companion, and they approached softly.

"He is a noble boy," said Mary to her companion. "Misfortune has early ripened his mind ;-even his outward frame outstrips his years."

Ida smiled as she answered-"He does not deem himself too young to vow allegiance to a lady, and wear her colours."

The duchess glanced at Ida's blue robe, and remembered hearing Conradin ask his mother to have his velvet mantle of that colour." He is a true son," said she, laughing, "of the country which is his birthright, and over which I trust he will rule in time. But fetch me yonder portfolio; I would see some of his poetic musings."

Mary read some of the verses, commenting upon them and praising the genius of her young kinsman; then giving the portfolio to Ida, went back slowly into the palace.

A boy of uncommon beauty was seated on the ground writing in a small portfolio. His face, seen as he bent over his task, was fair as that of a girl, and shaded by long clustering golden locks, The attendant continued to walk through the that floated also in rich profusion over his shoul- avenues of the garden, her head drooping penders. As at intervals, in the ecstasy of compo-sively and her eyes fixed on the ground. As sition, he raised his deep bue eyes upwards, with the rapt expression on his broad white brow, he might have formed a sculptor's model for the genius of poetry.

she penetrated deeper into the embowering shade, her step became quicker and more irregular; and when, reaching a spot where a marble fountain gleamed white amidst the vivid foliage,

Here Conradin opened the door, and entered to his mother, radiant with youthful spirits and gaiety. Duke Louis followed him. It was the Proudly the assistance was rejected; and hour for the evening meal. The duke took the with a courteous expression of regret for her in-hand of his wife, pressing it affectionately as he disposition, Hirschau obeyed her repeated commands, and left her.

Ida's keen-eyed jealousy had not misled her in the suspicion that had entered her mind. The proud and cold Count Hirschau was indeed enamoured of the beautiful Duchess of Bavaria. From the moment he had first seen her, she had reigned queen over all his thoughts. But his love was pure and lofty as its object; it had grown up in his heart before her marriage with the duke. Before Louis had even thought of soliciting her hand, the count had been dispatched with some message from his sovereign to Mary's father, the Duke of Brabant. that my

bant, and the count was frequently in the society | crowds of peasants in their holiday dress; and of the young and lovely princess. Her extreme the gates were hung with banners and garlands beauty, her cultivation of mind, and the good- of flowers. On inquiring what all this festivity ness of her heart, made a profound impression meant, he was informed that preparations for upon him; and her cordiality of manner towards great rejoicing had been made, to celebrate the himself failed not to awaken the sweetest hopes duke's entrance with his newly-wedded bride. in his breast. The procession was even then before the palace. The first impulse of Count Hirschau was resentment at the duke's silence with regard to his marriage. He might surely have been honoured with an invitation. Filled with discontent, he rode on. The streets were thronged with people, and decorated with triumphal arches, banners, and wreaths. All was tumultuous gaiety and delight. Count Henry reached the palace, and saw the duke, who came forward with a smile of welcome to receive him. But his tongue forgot his homage; his eyes were fixed in speechless amazement on the bride. Sitting on a milk-white steed, more beautiful than ever in her bridal attire, he saw before him Mary of Brabant. Her eyes roved carelessly over the gay scene around her, and she smiled as she received the homage of her new sub

Count Henry of Hirschau was a very handsome man, and well skilled in the accomplishments and learning that befitted a nobleman in that day. He could handle the pen as admirably as the sword, and was the most powerful vassal of the Duke of Bavaria, his firmest sup port, and his trusted friend. He was known to be admitted to the strictest confidence, and treated as a brother by the haughty Louis. In those perilous times, when the German empire was rent by feud and faction, when force, not right, held supremacy, and so many princes trembled on their thrones, the road to power and renown lay open to a man like Hirschau. He called to mind the fortunes of other knights, who, by prowess and brave deeds alone, had won the hands of princesses. To win his fair idol thus was the brightest dream of his youth,jects. the object of all his hopes.

One day, on his way to the cabinet of the Duke of Brabant, he met the princess Mary.

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Does your highness know," he asked, looking at her earnestly, "that I must leave your father's court to-morrow?"

"It grieves me that our court must lose so fair an ornament," said the princess, timidly, and endeavoured to pass on.

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Not yet-go not yet!" exclaimed Henry; and kneeling, he pressed her hand to his burning lips. "Or do you hate me, princess? If not, give me but a token that I may be permitted to think of you!"

Mary was startled by his eagerness; she blushed and hesitated; but the count's looks were so beseeching, that she was ashamed to refuse him so small a favour. She loosened a ribbon that bound her fair brown hair, gave it to the count, and went on her way without speaking a word.

Henry departed, but wore the ribbon as a talisman in his bosom. Full of buoyant hopes, he returned to the court of Bavaria. On the next field of battle, his deeds of marvellous valour so he resolved-should wrest renown from fortune herself, and render him worthy to sue for the hand of Mary Brabant. Meanwhile, his praises of her beauty and virtues filled the ears of Duke Louis.

Fate had determined Count Hirschau should suffer disappointment. A severe illness compelled him to remain for several weeks a close prisoner in his own ancestral castle. During his sickness and slow recovery, he was kept in ignorance of everything that had transpired at the court. As soon as he was able to mount a horse, he set off for the capital, contrary to the advice of a good monk who had attended him, and who thought so early an exposure the height of imprudence.

As the count approached the city, he saw

It was a moment of unspeakable anguish to the count-a moment such as changes the character at once, and gives a colouring to the whole after-life. But the deepest wounds of the heart are unseen; and Henry closed his with an almost super-human effort, and stood in a few moments calm and self-possessed. He replied to the duke's congratulations on his recovered health, and joined the procession.

Flowers were strewn by fair maidens in the path of the young bride as she moved on. They alighted at the palace gate, where Queen Elizabeth was to receive the youthful duchess. The count stooped, and picked up a rose on which she had trodden.

"Your highness," said he, with something of meaning in his look, "has crushed a rose-and the rose is the flower of love!"

"I did it not wittingly," replied the duchess, with a smile; "nor knew I that it bore such significance in Bavaria. Cast away the crushed flower, and take from Conradin yon branch of ivy-emblem of unfading esteem.'

During the banquet and festivities that ensued, the bearing of the duchess towards the count was full of a gentle dignity; friendly, without the slightest encouragement to confidence. Henry feared she might have misunderstood him. He whispered, as he stood near her for a moment in the dance-"I never thought to greet your highness as Duchess of Bavaria !"

"I thought it not myself," replied Mary. "The announcement of the duke's proposal was a surprise to me. But the choice of mine honoured parents is also my own. My lord surpasses in noble bearing and knightly virtues all princes in the world."

The count was silent. The next day, under the pretext that he needed quiet to establish his health, he obtained permission from the duke to return to his lonely castle. There

his confessor informed him that in the delirium of his late illness he had betrayed his love for Mary of Brabant. It had been deemed prudent, therefore, to conceal from him the duke's intended marriage. The announcement and invitation to the bridal festivities had not been delivered to him. He could now blame neither Louis nor the Princess, who had but yielded to the destiny of ladies of her rank in submitting to the will of her parents. She had broken no promise to him. After the first anguish of bitter disappointment, the count schooled his heart to resignation. The secret of his unhappy passion was buried for ever in his own breast. He resolved to return to the court, to devote his life to the service of the duchess. It might, perhaps, be in his power to protect her -for he knew the violence of the duke's temper and his ready jealousy.

The duke was about to depart for the Rhine; messengers came almost hourly; all preparations for the campaign were made, and precautions taken for the safety of the royal ladies during his absence. As the moment of parting drew near, Mary's fortitude gave way. She passed the time in tears, or in prayers for the safety of her husband.

"It was not thus," sighed the count mournfully, "when you gave me the ribbon at Brabant."

"Forget the past," said Mary, turning away. "Never!" exclaimed Hirschau. "From that moment I have worn the ribbon on my breast. I will wear it to my grave."

Pale, agitated, trembling, Ida could hear no more. She hastily left the saloon. As she was hurrying across the great hall, she suddenly encountered the duke.

"What ails thee, maiden?" cried Louis, struck by her wild looks. "Where is thy mistress?"

"Yonder, in the blue saloon, with Count Hirschau."

"Why has thou left her?" demanded the duke.

"It was not seemly to disturb with my presence a confidential interview," replied the girl, trembling with jealous rage.

The duke glared at her; his eyes flashed fire, but he uttered not a word. The next instant he strode to the saloon, and flung the door open. Mary gave an exclamation of joy, and came to meet him. The duke cast a searching look upon Hirschau, who stood calm and collected, and signed to him to withdraw. The count obeyed instantly.

The morning before that fixed for the duke's departure, she was returning from the chapel, accompanied by the lady Ida. In a saloon of the palace, she met Count Hirschau, and stopped" to speak with him.

You are pale, gracious lady," said the count, with an expression of anxiety that pierced the heart of Ida; "you are suffering. May your faithful servant ask if he can do aught to relieve you?"

The tone of sympathy opened the fountain of grief.

"Alas, this fearful war!" cried the duchess. "I have a presentiment of evil. If LouisShe could not go on for tears.

Mary took the hand of her husband, and gazed tenderly in his face. "You are paleyour hand trembles," she said, apprehensively. Has aught happened? Tell me, Louis-oh, tell me have I more to suffer than this dreadful parting?"

"It was but an ill dream, Mary, that discomposed me," answered the duke-for he would not that his noble wife should guess the base thoughts he had entertained.

An hour after, as he descended into the palace court, he caught a glimpse of Hirschau standing with folded arms, and gazing intently upwards. Louis observed him as he approached, and saw that his looks were directed towards a window "Be composed, noble mistress," said Hir-in one of the apartments of the duchess. The schau. "I have vowed to be your true knight. My life is pledged to you and to my lord, your husband. It shall be sacrificed ere harm shall reach him."

"I know your loyalty, count," answered the duchess, "and am grateful for it. How can I reward such knightly truth?"

Hirschau was silent, with downcast looks, for a moment. But a sudden light came into his eyes. "Your highness," said he, timidly, "when I think of those happy days at Brabant, I call to mind that your royal father was not displeased when his fair duchess addressed her loyal servants by the friendly and familiar thou.' Would you, gracious lady, but call me thou, as did your mother her lord's faithful vassals?"

The duchess coloured, and answered not, for a moment. At length she said—“The custom at the Bavarian court is different from that of Brabant. I am the wife of Duke Louis, and must dismiss the customs and remembrances of my home."

furies of jealousy took possession of him. He crossed the court rapidly. The unconcious offender turned; but so composed and dignified was his bearing, that the burst of rage was checked on the duke's lips. Just then the window was thrown open. Conradin leaned forth, and shouted some playful defiance to the count, with whom he had been conversing by signs.

Hirschau," cried Louis, who in the shame he felt for having cherished unworthy suspicions, rushed, like most impetuous natures, into an opposite imprudent extreme, "thou goest not with me to-morrow."

"My lord!"

"Nay; I leave behind me those who need the protection of a knightly arm. Thou must remain to conduct the duchess and the queen to the stronghold-Donawert.”

The same hour in which the duke departed with his troops, the duchess, Queen Elizabeth, and Conradin, with a convoy of gallant knights, headed by Count Hirschau, set forth for Dona