ames's heart. Hereford placed her in the
litter, and with a respectful salutation turned away to give some
necessary orders to his men. Bold in his disguise, Douglas bent over the
countess, and spoke in a low, feigned voice those words of comfort and
of peace suited to his assumed character; but feigned as it was, the
countess recognized him on that instant; a convulsive shudder passed
through her every limb, contracting her features with very agony.

"My child--my Alan!" she whispered, harrowing his very soul beneath that
voice's thrilling woe. "Douglas, hast thou heard?--yes, yes; I can read
it in thine awe-struck face. This, this is all I have left of him," and
she partly drew from her bosom the clustering ringlets he recognized at
once; "yet, wherefore should I mourn him: he is happy. Bid his memory be
honored among ye; and oh, tell the sovereign for whom he fell, better a
death like this than treachery and shame."

She had paused as fearing observation, but perceiving the attention of
all more fixed on the glittering cavalcade than on herself, she placed
one of those glossy curls in the young earl's hand, and continued--

"Give this to my poor Agnes, with her mother's blessing, and bid her
take comfort, bid her not weep and mourn for me. A prison, even death is
preferable now to life, for she is cared for. I trust her to Sir Nigel's
love; I know that he will tend her as a brother till a happier hour
makes her all his own. Commend me to my sovereign, and tell him, might I
choose my path again, despite its anguish, 'twould be that which I have
trod. And now farewell, young lord, I bless thee for this meeting."

"Dominus vobiscum mea filia, et vale," responded the supposed monk, in a
loud voice, for he had only time to assure the countess by a look of
deep sympathy of his willingness to execute her simplest wish, and hide
the ringlet in his bosom, ere Hereford turned towards him, with a gaze
of stern inquiry. Ably concealing alike his emotion and the expression
of his countenance, Douglas evaded discovery, and even obtained
permission to follow the litter to the environs of the town. He did so,
but the countess addressed him not again; and it was with a
heart-sinking despondency he had turned to the mountains, when the
cavalcade disappeared from his view. He retained his monkish garb till
he entered the mountain district, where he fell in with his two
companions, and they proceeded, as we have seen, to the quarters