of the return of King Richard to Europe, and of his being seized and detained a prisoner in Germany, in open violation of every principle of honor, by a power, considered before, friendly to the British King.

Many of the knights, esquires, and soldiers of the glorious crusade, reached Britain in a most deplorable plight, and spread themselves throughout the land, when minute particulars of the events of the war soon became generally known. Among others who returned, were several of the vassals of Baron de Darbye, some of whom were with the king's party, which was dispersed on its way to the coast. A few of them came to Godolphin Castle, whose inmates were now, for the first time, informed of the death of De Bellemonte, at the battle of Ashkelon, and full particulars were given of the action in the night, which led to the loss of Sir Lionel, who they stated was then unfortunately slain, much to the lively grief of every body, but particularly of King Richard, whose regrets were unbounded, as well as their own, "for in him they had

lost a master," they said, "whose name, before, had been the pass-word for victory."

The Lady Bona listened to the tale so fatal to her peace, but spoke not. She did not weep-she could not weep. The smile that had played upon her dimpled cheeks, fixed in lineaments expressive of a hopeless, broken heart. Her flower-bed was tended, but not watered, and the violets and snow-drops, which continued to blow in all seasons, drooped their heads, but the rose tree was still green and full of flowers, with which she daily bedecked her dress, in a fantastical form, not from any aberration of mind, but in a total listlessness of all other feelings, than the one which engrossed all her thoughts. The turret, too, was frequented, from whence her eye would be fixed for hours, on the spot on which she last beheld her lover. All the kind attentions of her affectionate parents were lost upon her, and her visits to the Retreat were discontinued. Her sole joy was encouraging the sorrow which was consuming her. The lady abbess became, now, in her turn, a

daily frequenter of the castle, but, at first, effected no good. She proposed the Retreat as a refuge to the lady-maiden, and represented that, as the remainder of her own days could be but short, if she would forsake the world and take the veil, she should become the officiating lady abbess, while she lived, and should succeed her in the office, together with the large revenues which she had appertained to the monastery.

By degrees, the project was seriously entertained, and the Lady Bona looked forward to the day which was now fixed for her inauguration, unmoved and unaffected, as if it were a day usual to meet and pass over. As the time more closely approached, all in the castle were affected by the sacrifice that was about being made, but the object of it, who seemed lost to every solace, and every sense but the loss she had sustained of all her bright hopes, in the supposed death of her lover.

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CHAPTER XI.

"I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs: he trod the water
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

The surge most swoll'n that met him; his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty strokes
To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land."

Shakspeare.

SIR Lionel de Darbye proceeded on his way, in a mood of melancholy, which the glowing affection of his heart so naturally kindled, at parting with objects, with whom were entwined the noblest sentiments and recollections which the human mind and heart are capable of feeling. He drowned the keenness of his regrets, in the cheering hope and prospect that every league he tra

versed, brought him nearer to the presence of his lady-love, of whom he had not heard a syllable since he left Britain.

The first morning's dawn after found the travellers busily engaged in loading the camels with the camp equipage, at which time, an Arab, plainly dressed, for the race, but in the whitest linen, and silks of delicate colour and texture, presented himself.

"I have," said the Arab, on coming up, conducted, with true fidelity, many of thy countrymen to shipping. Shall I do the like with thy party?"

“That thou mayest, Arab," said Sir Lionel, "but what surety have we that thou wilt, in honor, lead us rightly?"

"My life, and the truth of a Mahometan," answered the Arab, solemnly. "If thy object be dispatch, thou wilt need a guide, for dangers and a rough route, are between thee and the sea, and I am well acquainted with the country."

"Be it so," said Sir Lionel.

"Conduct us

speedily and safely to the coast, and a good