helter, she produced a letter, which she had suddenly
detected to be fastened under its left wing, and which she had
perceived, in an instant, to be written by Lord Branchimont.

Her sight was dizzy, her cheek pale, her breath seemed to have deserted
her. She looked up to heaven, she looked down upon the letter, and then
she covered it with a thousand kisses; then, making a vigorous effort to
collect herself, she read its strange and sweet contents:--

_'Lothair to Imogene_.

'Soul of my existence! Mignon, in whom you may place implicit trust, has
promised me to bear you this sign of my love. Oh, I love you, Imogene! I
love you more even than this bird can the beautiful sky! Kiss the dove
a thousand times, that I may steal the kisses again from his neck, and
catch, even at this distance, your fragrant breath. My beloved, I am
planning your freedom and our happiness. Each day Mignon shall come to
tell you how we speed; each day shall he bring back some testimony of
your fidelity to your own

Lothair.'

It was read--it was read with gushing and fast-flowing tears--tears of
wild joy. A thousand times, ay, a thousand times, Imogene embraced the
faithful Mignon; nor could she indeed have ever again parted with him,
had she not remembered that all this time her Lothair was anxiously
awaiting the return of his messenger. So she tore a leaf from her
tablets and inscribed her devotion; then, fastening it with care under
the wing, she bore Mignon to the window, and, bestowing upon him a last
embrace, permitted him to extend his beautiful wings and launch into the
air.

Bright in the sun glanced the white bird as it darted into the deep-blue
sky. Imogene watched it until the sparkling form changed into a dusky
shade, and the dusky shade vanished into the blending distance.

CHAPTER IV.

_A Cruel Dart_

IT WAS now a principal object with the fair captive of Charolois, that
her unsympathising attendant should enter her chamber as little as
possible, and only at seasons when there was no chance of a visit
from Mignon. Faithful was the beautiful bird in these daily visits of
consolation; and by his assistance, the correspondence with Lothair
respecting her escape was actively maintained. A thousand plans were
formed by the sanguine lovers-a thousand plans were canvassed, and then
decided to be impracticable. One day, Martha was to be bribed; another,
young Theodore was to re-enter the castle disguised as a gi