matter of fashion. The gentlemen adopted a most sentimental demeanor toward the ladies, and addressed them only in terms of peculiar delicacy and politeness. This exaggerated language of courtesy imparted a certain fantastic charm to the conversation of the brothers with their sister, and added to their mutual sallies the piquancy of a pleasant, arch irony. Thomas, the younger brother, excelled particularly in this respect. He played with evident relish the assumed part of a knighterrant and sentimental shepherd, and it was undeniable that his performance was highly successful. He treated his sister precisely like an imaginary mistress, and lavished on her the most tender and nicely-constructed lovephrases, which he borrowed very happily from the fashionable authors of that period, Sir Philip Sidney and Sir Walter Raleigh.

"Noble lady," he said, placing a dish before her, and speaking in a tone slightly tinged with merry sarcasm, "will you not partake of this tender venison pie? This wing of the grouse longs to make the acquaintance of your sweet lips. Can you be so cruel as to refuse it that favor?"

Laughing and gayly entering into his jest, Alice thanked him exactly in the spirit of the rôle of a romantic young lady.

"What! you are not hungry?" he asked. "Noble lady, is there a secret grief gnawing at your heart, and have you lost your heart with your appetite? Is it the fair-haired Carbury, the cavalier from Wales, who has robbed me of your affections? or is it our philosopher, Sir Kenelm Digby, who, by his magic arts, has inmeshed already many a female heart, although he still plays the heart-broken widower? Answer, or, by Jove! this weapon, which has just carved the juicy mutton ham, will put an end to my miserable existence if you deprive me of all hopes."

"Stop!" cried Alice, with feigned terror. "I swear by chaste Diana and all her nymphs,

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that neither Carbury nor our cousin Digby is nearer to my heart than you."

"But no third admirer, either? There was at the house of our good aunt Derby a young poet, with so pretty and sentimental a face, that I felt inclined to take him for a girl in disguise, an Arcadian shepherdess. This poet paid the most particular attention to my sweet little sister, and he did not once avert his fiery and eloquent eyes from her charming face."

"I really do not know whom you refer to," said the blushing girl, in evident confusion. "O Dissimulation, thy name is woman!" exclaimed the youth, in a tone of mock gravity. "Can you really not have noticed at the house of our aunt, the Countess of Derby, a certain John Milton, the poet of the Arcades?"

"I did, of course," replied Alice, with seeming indifference. "I have even exchanged a few words with him. He seemed to me taciturn and misanthropic."

"Say rather awkward and clumsy, like most men who hold more intercourse with their books than with the world and men,” remarked the elder brother, who had hitherto listened to their conversation in silence.

"I do not consider this awkwardness by any · means ridiculous," replied the beautiful girl, in a tone of slight irritation. "Poets are like nightingales; they are silent in a noisy crowd, and sing most beautifully in solitude."

“Well said,” remarked Thomas, playfully. "But I prefer this roast pheasant to all your poetical nightingales and similar useless singing-birds."

Alice scoffed, smilingly, at her brother's prosy nature, while he derided merrily and gracefully her predilection for poets and poetry. The elder brother listened for some time to this exchange of witty and amusing sallies, but without forgetting his habitual caution. Already more than once he had anxiously interrupted' the playful conversation by the request

to put an end to it and start again, as time was passing by with winged speed.

"Only a quarter of an hour yet," begged his lovely sister, who could not make up her mind to leave the delightful spot already.

nature.

In fact, Nature had lavished her choicest charms on the place where they were reposing. The green turf and soft moss formed a most beautiful carpet, while the primeval oak arched like a splendid canopy over their youthful heads. Wild rose-bushes covered with fragrant blossoms, snow-white blackthorns, and evergreen laurels formed the neat and graceful border of this natural dining-hall. Aromatic thyme, mint, and the whole countless host of forest herbs and flowers, impregnated the balmy air with sweet perfumes. Vernal air and vernal life filled the beautiful green forest. Finches and linnets vied with each other in singing, and enlivened the silence of At a distance the cuckoo sounded its monotonous yet sweet melancholy notes, and the thrush warbled boldly from lofty tree-tops. Blue and yellow butterflies flitted past, turning around the cups of the flowers and sipping their sweet nectar with their long, fine tongues from golden bowls. Lady-birds with red outside wings, dotted with black, were climbing up the flexible twigs and practising their break-neck acrobatic feats; while a brown squirrel was rocking itself in the highest branches of a slender white birch, and curiously looking down with its piercing eyes. At times a pliable lizard slipped through the soft moss, and a sunbeam gilded its greenish, lustrous body. All these beings were moving in the bright sunshine, and rejoicing in the -bliss of their existence; and the young people reposed in the midst of this blessed solitude, themselves the happiest and most contented creatures in the glorious forest. All three were young, handsome, and as yet undefiled by the contact of life and the world, children of Spring, blossoms of May. Therefore, they

felt glad and happy in these kindred surroundings. Free from all restraints, they surrendered willingly to the charms of the forest, which they were so loth to leave. Hours glided by like moments, and when they were at length obliged to set out, it seemed to them as though they were parting with their paradise. The elder brother had to exhort them repeatedly and urgently before the little cavalcade resolved to continue the journey. Even the horses, which had found here a splendid pasture, shook their heads, as it were, disapprovingly, and allowed themselves to be saddled again reluctantly, and amid loud, indignant neighs. Especially did Alice's white palfrey seem to share the predilection of his mistress for this romantic spot. More than once he turned back his head toward the rich pasture which had pleased him so well. At times he even stopped, contrary to his habit, to nibble with his rosy lips at a few herbs and low shrubs on the wayside. Alice willingly permitted these little diversions of her palfrey, and from time to time turned her lovely face toward the cozy nook where she had passed such blissful hours.

Her sensible brother John led the way with restless haste. He did not yet give up the hope of reaching again the highway with which he was thoroughly familiar; but the further they advanced, the stranger and more alarming appeared to him the path which they had taken. Moreover, it soon became quite narrow and impassable. Dense thorn-bushes and rankling weeds bordered it on both sides, and naked roots crept across it like black snakes. The landscape had gradually lost its graceful character, and became gloomier and gloomier. Sombre pines had taken the places of the leafy trees, and shed a melancholy twilight on the scene. The most profound silence reigned far and near; for even the tread of the horses sounded weird and dull on the ground, which was covered with pointed leaves, and, by its

"You do him injustice," replied Alice, gently. "His caution is praiseworthy, at all events, and he does not deserve your censure. If we had followed his advice and retraced our steps as soon as he asked us to do so, we should doubtless have got back to the right road, and we should have been spared the ennui of waiting here."

Notwithstanding the gentle tone in which his sister uttered these words, they were sufficient to irritate and sadden the passionate youth. He accused himself with exaggerated impetuosity of his former folly, and would have shrunk from no danger in order to extricate his beloved sister from the disagreeable predicament in which his rashness had involved her. Moreover, the inactive part assigned to him was highly distasteful. His whole nature urged him to take quick and resolute steps. He jumped up uneasily from the stone on which he had sat hitherto, and paced the brink of the dismal gorge with a nervous step in order to discover another path. Now he looked at the footpath which John had taken, now his eyes turned in the opposite direction, which at all events would lead them somewhere. Pride and ambition filled him with passionate excitement. He wished alone to save them all. The longing for distinction slumbered unknown to him in his young soul. More than once, in his childlike dreams, he had seen himself at the head of a large army and performed miracles of valor. The chivalrous spirit of his times and the thirst for adventures for which his countrymen were noted at that period, filled his bosom. He wished to excel all by his courage and intrepidity, and especially his elder brother, whose preponderance, based as it was on birth and custom, he acknowledged only with the greatest reluctance.

Thus 'this youthful heart concealed, under the deceptive cover of rashness and recklessness, a burning ambition and thirst for distinc

tion. Vainly did Alice, who often exercised a great deal of authority over him, and stood as a mediatrix between the two brothers, exhort him to be quiet and patient.

"What matters it," she said, soothingly, "if we have to stay here another hour? We shall reach Ludlow Castle even then in time. The day is so fine, and we shall be at home before sundown."

"And there I shall be scolded again," replied the youth, in a tone of irritation. "John will be praised for his prudence, and father will scold me for my rashness."

"We may say that we left aunt's house at an advanced hour of the day. Father shall not learn from us that we lost our way. What good would it do? He would get unnecessarily excited, and would not allow us again to travel alone. And is not this very adventure delightful? We owe to it the charming hours which we passed among the oaks. Come, Orlando, give me your hand, and do not look so gloomy, which does not sit well on you, and which I do not like at all."

In this amiable manner the lovely sister tried to soften the anger of the sullen youth. But that which she had formerly always succeeded in accomplishing was frustrated this time by her brother's intense mortification. He started up at the slightest noise, and listened with eager suspense to every distant sound. Now he believed he heard approaching footsteps, now the sound of human voices.

"Do you hear nothing?" he asked his sister, vehemently. "There must be men here, and, moreover, close by. The sounds I hear proceed distinctly from the gorge yonder."

"Perhaps you are deceived by the rustling of the wind, or the notes of a bird.”

"No, no. There are men in the gorge. I will ascertain from them how we may get back to the highway, and will return to you in a few moments."

Before Alice could prevent him, the impa

tient youth had already disappeared. He pursued his object with a quick step. In the outset Thomas hastened along the dry bed of the rivulet, which afforded him a very convenient path. But fragments of rocks and large heaps of sand soon obstructed the path, and rendered it almost impassable. The youth was obliged to leave it again. However, these obstacles only incited his zeal to redoubled efforts instead of deterring him. On the crest of a neighboring hill which he climbed, he found the distinct traces of many human footsteps. These traces soon increased in number, and intersected each other in different directions. Finally all the footsteps led back to the dry bed of the rivulet, which became passable again. Thomas satisfied himself more and more that human hands had made this hidden path. It did not escape his keen eyes that even the fragments of the rocks had been intentionally piled up in such a manner as to arrest the progress of the uninitiated. This unexpected discovery warned him to be on his guard, and caused him to hesitate; his intrepid heart, however, did not so easily shrink from a dangerous adventure. On the contrary, his daring spirit found only fresh fuel in all these circumstances, and the secret which was concealed here excited his curiosity to the last degree.

Hence, he bravely advanced without further hesitation. The deeper he penetrated into the gorge, the more it expanded at his feet, and it seemed to terminate in a deep, round cleft. However, he was prevented by groups of tall trees and almost impenetrable shrubbery from obtaining a full view of it. A natural hedge of closely interwoven thorn-bushes and young shoots and shrubs seemed suddenly to put a stop to his further progress. Already he had drawn his sword, which, according to the custom of the period, never left his side, in order to open himself a passage through the thicket, when he discovered an artificial door, skilfully concealed behind ivy and pine-branches.

The youth hesitated for a moment, and reflected, contrary to his usual habit, before resolving to penetrate into the mysteries of the wilderness. Poachers and gangs of daring robbers were by no means rare in those days, and perhaps they carried on their unlawful profession in this inaccessible solitude. It was, therefore, unadvisable for a single man to plunge recklessly into such a danger. Besides, Thomas had often heard of secret meetings and illicit organizations of such religious sects as were ruthlessly persecuted by the government. His own father, Lord President of Wales, had been instructed by the government, more than once, to break up such conventicles by main force. Bloody scenes had sometimes ensued, for the Puritans, Separatists, or whatever their names might be, offered a bold and even desperate resistance to their assailants, whenever they were numerous enough to cope with them. Thomas thought also of his sister Alice, whom he had rashly left in the forest all alone and without protection.

All these considerations would have probably induced him to turn back and retrace his steps, had he not been irresistibly captivated at this moment by the loud and swelling notes of a solemn anthem. It was a simple but touching melody which all at once broke the profound silence of the wilderness in so wonderful a