ons have never
troubled me, and a marriage founded on esteem--it always is a lucky
chance if one does not repent of it afterwards."

They had now reached a turn in the valley, and the unexpected change of
scene interrupted the conversation. On the left hand where the vine
covered hills receded from the river, lay a small town, the industry of
whose inhabitants was testified by the smoking chimnies of many
factories, and the roaring and clashing of the water engines.

A broad stone bridge led across the river, and high above the old gable
roofed houses, rose the graceful edifice of a gothic church, whose
perforated spire of delicate fret-work with the ornamented cross at the
top, projected boldly into the clear blue sky, and was surrounded by
swarms of pigeons.

"This is C----" said the coachman, pulling up his horses for a moment,
and pointing towards the town with the end of his whip.

"Drive over the bridge," cried Valentine; "we wish to visit that
beautiful cathedral before we proceed on our journey."

Eugenie looked at him enquiringly. "Let me manage it all," continued
Valentine, turning to her. "We are sure of reaching the doctor's house
in good time, so I propose that we rest here awhile, climb up to that
steeple, and dine at the inn of the place; by this plan we shall not
arrive just as my future father-in-law is sitting down to dinner.
To-night there is full moon, so that our drive back, though somewhat
late, will not be the less pleasant."

"Be it so," she replied, "I only stipulate that the rest of our plan
remain as we had first agreed upon, and that the valiant knight does
not seek a pretext to keep the apple again in his own pocket."

He laughingly promised it on his honour as a knight.

The carriage had now stopped before the cathedral. They got out
and desired the old portal to be opened for them. The grey-haired
door-keeper slowly led them through the lofty nave and aisles, coughing
and gasping at every step.

"The dank air of the church is not good for you, old lady," remarked
Valentine. "Have you not a grandchild, who could serve in your stead,
as a guide to strangers? You ought to sit basking in the sun. Go, and
leave us to find the way by ourselves."

"Showing the church is all well enough," replied the old woman, "but I
can no longer drag myself up the steep stairs of the steeple; so if the
lady and gentleman wish to climb up there, they will have to go by
themselves. You cannot miss the