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granted almost before it was asked. To this succeeded a splendid banqueting room. The cavalier and the maiden are seated beneath a royal canopy, and the cavalier wears the insignia of his high station. Rosamond is at his side, her hand still clasped in his; the gems are bright in her braided hair, and neck and arms are laden with orient pearls: but her cheek is paler than its wont, and the soft blue eyes have a look of care far different from what they wore when but heeding how best the primrose and the violet might consort together. This was followed by the parting between the frail Rose and her royal lover. The spur is on his heel, and the sword at his side;—honour with a knight is stronger than love, and he must go—yet she clings to his arm—alas! why may not she accompany him! Henry's face is averted; but the agony on that of his unhappy mistress is terrible—it is the desolation of a life. Next you saw her alone, a kneeling penitent at the foot of the crucifix; her long fair hair is unbound, and the sackcloth robe is girded by a cord round her slender shape: her hands are clasped, and tears are flowing fast from the quenched radiance of those shadowy eyes; no penitence can avail the still cherished sin, and no humiliation express the depth of her self-conscious degradation. She looks