herself under their guidance, she hastily descended to the court-yard of the castle, whence they passed the different sentinels, by virtue of some countersign her conductors seemed in possession of, and quickly gained the outside of the fortress.

A few moments more, and she was mounted on a fleet steed, and found herself surrounded by the party who had the charge of escorting her. Ere they started, however, the taller of the strangers took his comrade a few paces apart and held a brief conference with him.

"This is an extraordinary and lucky chance," he said, "a few moments more and we should have been forestalled. The fair Bertha, you see, was prepared for flight. Methinks, I know the upstart who intended to carry her off."

By're Lady," said the other, "I hardly expected to have been able to achieve the proud beauty without considerable risk and trouble. 'Tis, indeed, a lucky chance, this."

"Make the best of your road ere her flight be discovered, and leave me to put her pursuers

off the scent. So soon as I have executed the commission I am employed upon I will join you. Meanwhile, hold my house against the world till I do so. Farewell; and remember your own prosperity depends upon my success in wooing. Be wary and vigilant, and good fortune come to thee: in a week, at farthest, I will myself join thee."

"Not sooner?" inquired the other.

"Sus

"No," replied the taller cavalier. picion might fasten on me, and I have to visit Brittany in the meanwhile."

"Depend upon my fidelity, Sir Knight," returned the other, and putting himself at the bridle-rein of the lady's palfrey, he gave the word to move forwards, and the party were speedily some miles from Mirabeau.

CHAPTER VII.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,
Makes deeds ill done! Had'st not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted and signed to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind.

Within this bosom never entered yet,

SHAKESPERE.

The dreadful motion of a murderous thought.
And you have slandered nature in my form;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

IBID.

It is not our purpose to paint at full the dire situation of the town of Mirabeau and its inhabitants, while the court and camp of John and Elinor were within and around it. In former days, when war seemed the business of life, the pastime of the great, a town situated as Mirabeau was at that moment; its citizens oppressed with unbridled thousands,

was certainly not in such dire extremity of misfortune as the adverse town given over to sack and siege. Yet still, in all the rude ferocity of the age whilst, fresh from recent strife "the fleshed soldier, with conscience wide as hell," roamed through the crowded streets and thoroughfares, he was by no means a pleasant guest to entertain in a respectable city. The night-shriek disturbed the curtained sleep, and blessed was the hour when, by "tuck of drum," the greater part of the English army marched forth from the walls of Mirabeau.

On the morning of the departure of Bertha, the town, was, if possible, in a more confused and distracted state than it had been since the horrors of the recent conflict and siege. Large detachments of the English were continually pouring through its gates and thronging and choking up its streets, whilst, at the same time, strong bodies of Brabançons, which had joined the King on his advance upon the place, were now marching out.

John, although he was celebrated occa

sionally for the swiftness of his movements, and the rapid and extraordinary marches he made, and by which he more than once amazed and discomfited his enemies, invariably gave himself up to indolence and luxury the moment the successful blow had been struck, in place of following up the advantage. He had accordingly, in this latter instance, pursued the same ruinous plan, wasting the precious moments which ought to have been used, in feasting and revelry.

The royal army now, however, was on the eve of departure from Mirabeau. Their destination was Arques in Normandy, before which place Philip of France and his chivalry had just been lying. The royal cortège was to follow with John, who only waited for Isabella, his Queen, to join him, she being expected in a few days.

On the morning of the events we have narrated in the last chapter, the King arose from his couch in no very enviable frame of mind. One of those periodical fits of gloom which so frequently succeeded his more lively feelings,