Rose D'Albret; or, Troublous Times. G. P. R. James

you maybe well justified in overstepping, in some degree, the bounds which a timid and delicate woman generally prescribes to herself. For this high purpose, you may well urge him more warmly and vehemently than you might otherwise think reasonable and proper, and may hold out to him the inducement of contributing to your happiness and peace, with a view to restore tranquillity and comfort in a house where you have ever been treated as a daughter."

      "Send him to me, good father," repeated Rose d'Albret. "I know not what I shall say or do, to effect the purpose desired; but in former days De Montigni was always generous and self-denying; and if I can restore peace without any act of injustice, no personal sacrifice on my part will seem too much for me to make."

      She spoke sincerely, with all her previous thoughts and feelings thrown into confusion; and, with a pale cheek and trembling frame she seated herself upon the parapet, and covered her eyes with her hand.

      "I will send him this moment, my child," replied the priest, convinced even by her visible agitation, that he had produced the effect he had desired.

      "Stay, stay a moment," said the fair girl in a faltering tone; "I am troubled, father; let me recover myself for a moment."

      "As long as you will," replied the priest; "but the sooner such a painful scene is over the better."

      "Now," said Rose d'Albret, after a short pause, "now, good father; and let him be quick, for I fear my courage will fail."

      "God's blessing go with your good work!" cried father Walter, and with a low inclination of the head he retired.

      At a rapid pace he sought the great hall, where he found Monsieur de Liancourt seated at a table, and pretending to write a letter, though the agitated shaking of his hand prevented him from tracing more than one or two words in a minute. De Montigni was walking up and down on the other side, with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his eyes bent upon the ground; and Chazeul was standing, playing with the hilt of his sword, near the door which led to the ramparts.

      "All is right and safe," said the priest in a low voice to the Marquis as he entered. "He has not seen the Commander?"

      "No, no," whispered Chazeul; "but the old man must be down soon. He is later than usual."

      "The change of weather always affects his wounds," replied the priest; "but the sooner this is over the better.--Monsieur de Montigni," he continued, crossing the hall, "Mademoiselle d'Albret wishes to speak with you on the ramparts."

      "Very well," replied De Montigni, advancing towards the door. But pausing in the midst of the hall, and drawing up his head proudly, he added, gazing first at Monsieur de Liancourt, then at Chazeul, "Remember, gentlemen, I am to have one hour unwatched, unlistened to, unrestrained--ay, and uninterrupted; and if, in that time, Mademoiselle d'Albret distinctly asks me to sign these papers, I will do it before noon to-morrow. That is our compact."

      "So be it," answered the Count; and Chazeul bent his head with a sarcastic smile.

      CHAPTER IX.

      The heart of poor Rose d'Albret beat so fast as she sat upon the battlements, leaning her head and arm upon the stone-work of one of the embrasures, that she feared she would faint before De Montigni appeared. She longed eagerly to think over all that had taken place that morning, over her own sensations, over her past, over her future conduct. But her ideas were all in wild confusion; and she could not command her mind sufficiently to give them anything like order and precision. In a few minutes, however, she heard a step; and looking round towards the door which led across the drawbridge into the château, she saw De Montigni advancing towards her with a quick pace. She trembled to meet him, but yet as she gazed there was nothing stern or harsh or cold in his countenance. It was somewhat grave, perhaps; but still there was a light in his eyes, a look of hopefulness and satisfaction. It was more like that of the youth, who had left her five years before, than it had appeared since his return; and, as he came near he held out his hand towards her, saying, "Rose!--dear Rose!"

      She could not resist the tone and the manner; but starting up at once, she placed both her hands in his, while the warm blood of emotion mounted up into her cheeks and forehead, and made her whole face one glow. The next moment her eyes were drowned in tears; but De Montigni, without noticing them, drew her arm through his, and led her towards the further part of the rampart, while good old Estoc, with a heavy sword by his side, appeared upon the flying bridge, and leaned over the chains, looking into the space below.

      "Dry your tears, dearest Rose," said De Montigni; "dry your tears, and calm your heart, and listen with your whole mind to one who has always loved you, as a boy, as a youth, as a man--one who is ready at your slightest word to make any or every sacrifice, but to procure you one moment's happiness."

      "Oh, De Montigni!" exclaimed Rose d'Albret, "do not speak to me so tenderly, do not speak to me so kindly, or any little calmness, any little power over my mind that I may hope to possess, will be lost altogether."

      "Nay, that must not be, Rose," replied De Montigni; "I have need of your full attention, dearest Rose, and I have not come here to agitate or afflict you. I have sought this interview that we may understand each other clearly and fully, or rather, that I may know and be quite sure that, in anything I do, I am really consulting your wishes and your happiness, and that you are not deceived, as I have been, in regard to the circumstances of your position."

      "Alas, De Montigni!" answered his fair companion, "I fear no explanation can deliver me from the terrible embarrassment in which I am placed. Indeed, indeed, I know not which way to turn or what to do. I would give worlds, I would do anything, to restore peace to this family, but I have no right to ask you to make sacrifices, I have no right to injure or to distress you."

      "Talk not of sacrifices, Rose," replied De Montigni in a mournful tone; "talk not of sacrifices to me. I am ready to make any, all for your dear sake. You have nothing to do but to command, and I will obey; but it is upon the sole condition that I know it to be for your happiness; and first, Rose, let me beseech you to tell me, how you conceive you stand regarding this marriage."

      "I do not understand you," replied Mademoiselle d'Albret; "how do you mean, De Montigni?"

      "We have but an hour, Rose, for all that we have to say," answered De Montigni, "therefore forgive me if I ask you plain and straightforward questions upon subjects into which I have, perhaps, no right to inquire; and answer me candidly and frankly--I know you will. First, dearest Rose, is it love, or what you consider duty, that binds you to Nicholas de Chazeul?"

      "Duty, duty," replied Rose d'Albret eagerly; then placing her hand upon her brow, she thought for an instant, and added with a melancholy shake of the head, "Love? Ah, no! Alas, love has little to do with it, on either side!"

      "Then almost all my questions are answered, Rose," replied De Montigni, taking her hand, and pressing it in his own.

      "Nay, do not, do not, Louis," said his fair companion; "you agitate, you alarm me. I must do my duty, De Montigni; I have promised to endeavour to restore peace to this household. Remember, I must obey--I must fulfil the engagement entered into by my father."

      "Then, Rose d'Albret," replied the young nobleman, "you are the bride of Louis de Montigni, and not of Nicholas de Chazeul: the bride of one who has loved you from infancy, not of a cold and heartless villain, who loves nothing but himself."

      Rose d'Albret turned, withdrew her arm, and gazed upon him for a moment in pale and speechless astonishment. The next moment her lips too turned white, and she would have fallen had not her lover caught her in his arms.

      Poor De Montigni knew little of woman's heart, and could ill distinguish between the effects of mere emotion and distress. He carried rather than led her to the side of the wall, and seating her in one of the embrasures, hastened to reassure her, as he thought. "Listen to me, Rose, listen to me, dearest girl," he said; "De Montigni is not about to take advantage of any circumstances of his situation. It is for you, as I said just now, to command, and for me to obey. I am ready at a word to renounce my inheritance, my rights, my hopes--yes, Rose,