surely let him go free?-I must see. I must go to him." And rising from her seat, she hurried from the place.

Meanwhile, Sir Hervé, on passing down the corridor, met Lovell.

"Whither away?" said the Knight.

"To Geoffrey," was the reply.

"I have just left his room," said Sir Hervé. "He was very tired, and soon fell asleep. He ought not to be disturbed. Come!" he added, drawing Lovell's arm in his own, and passing out into the street, "I want your opinion on some fortification-plans of mine. Hastie has them-the vintner, you know: we will go there. It is on your way to the Castle." And the young gentleman, suspecting nothing, was easily led away. He would see Geoffrey in the morning:-being so nearly well, he did not want night watching now. Besides, he was in excellent hands in De Léon's house. And having looked over Sir Hervé's plans,-highly flattered by the great man's condescension in showing them to him, he went back to his duties in the Castle.

Alice hurried to the corridor, leading to Geoffrey's room. A guard was pacing there!-She motioned to pass him, but the man respectfully repulsed her. No one could pass without Sir Hervé's special leave.

She

She had not thought what she should say to the young man if she had been allowed to see him. wanted to know that he was safe;-a horrible suspicion had crossed her mind:-if she knew that, she would be content. But directly that she found entrance to him forbidden, it seemed absolutely necessary that she should know more:-that she should see him, and speak to him. She hastened away;-ran to the reception chamber,-through the ante-rooms,-to Sir Hervé's closet; he was nowhere to be found. She went to her own room: perhaps he might be there. He was not.

As she moved across the floor of her chamber, she suddenly felt unwell. Whether from excitement, anxiety, want of rest,-from what cause she knew not;-but a sort of film fell as in a moment over her brain, and all things swam round before her eyes. She stretched out her hands to save herself from falling;-her hands only grasped the air. She called. feebly, for Grace; but before she could run to her assistance, she tottered, fell forward, and with a heavy sigh, sank fainting upon the ground.

When she awoke, it was Night.

CHAP. III.

CHANGE.

And near, the beat of the alarming drum

Roused up the soldier ere the morning star,

While thronged the citizens, with terror dumb,

Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! they come, they come." Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

Awake! awake!

Ring the alarum bell! Murder! and treason!

Macbeth.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.

Midsummer Night's Dream.

ALL was silent in the town. Afternoon had faded into evening:-evening had deepened into night. Honesty was sleeping on its bed,-while the Hours crept onwards silently, and unnoticed, like robbers, stealing its time. But Guilt was watching;-Guilt and Misery. It grew towards midnight. The town was still.

Sir Hervé de Léon sat in a room in Hastie's house, which was not far from one of the Town Gates. He was

fully armed. The dim light shone back on itself with heightened lustre from the bright links of his harness, and his colossal figure looked even more massive than it really was, by that dim light,-in that solemn panoply. His grim face wore an unusually stern and anxious look, as he sat, watching. A heavy, crosshilted sword leaned against his knee: his gauntlets, his very steel cap, were all on:- -he was ready for instant fighting. Ready?—He was impatient for it, and cursed what he called the sloth of steady-pacing Time!

But suddenly, the clock struck: struck twelve. It was the dead of night; the appointed time. He started from his seat, and taking his sword in his hand, passed into the street.

There was no moon. The sky was black with clouds. Not a star was to be seen. The very heavens seemed to frown upon the town and him,-him and the dark bands of men who lurked motionless in their appointed places, waiting for his word of command.

As he passed, he gave some signal which all seemed to understand, for if there had been any light, it would have been seen that all, at that signal, followed stealthily in his steps;-they swelled into knots, into bodies,-into a crowd of men; but they made scarcely any noise. They pressed forward with a quiet that

had something awful in it; forward, till they were close to the Gate.

Sir Hervé had calculated well. The guard, think. ing all was safe, kept a loose watch. Some were half asleep; some quite so; some were gambling;-scarcely any had their weapons in hand. To rush upon

these, surprise, and overpower them, was the work of a moment. The gate was unbarred; swung open; -and hundreds of the enemy who had crept up close to the barriers, poured in with a shout.

The

"Silence!" exclaimed Sir Hervé. But the command was useless. All was noise and confusion. flood of men rolled up into the gateway-through it— mingled with their new brethren. Silence was at an end.

"Lights!-Torches there!" shouted the leader, seeing in a moment the danger of delay ;-instantaneous action was necessary, before the well affected among the townsmen could be alarmed and drawn together. Torches were lighted at once; they seemed to multiply, as they passed from hand to hand.

"Steady!-Fall in! Steady, I say!" thundered Sir Hervé, marshalling the great swaying crowd, as he best could. "Steady! Follow me!-To the Castle!"

Onward they swept, a great roaring tide of human