thoughts; the fatigue of body which follows this toil of the mind; the heartlessness, the hopelessness of such a task recurring day after day—never assert that hell comes only after death, while such a hell as this exists, and is known, alas, to common experience! How eagerly did she seek for an hour of solitude, though that solitude was only filled by haunting fears and vain regrets!
One evening, with what a sensation of relief did she contrive to escape from her guests! Madame de Soissons had a head-ache, and had retired to her chamber. Charles, for lack of other amusement, proposed cards, and formed his party of Lord Avonleigh, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Chevalier de Joinville. Francesca only felt too grateful to the table which attracted attention from herself. The beautiful evening soon drew her from her apartment, and she wandered forth to a little lonely nook in the pleasaunce, which was her favourite haunt. The terrace, which a few warm days had induced the gardener to line with some noble orange-plants and early roses, was soon passed through. Francesca paused with tearful eyes over the round, fruit-like buds and broad shining leaves, which brought another country to her mind, and descended to a shady walk, where, a few weeks since, the pale snow-
