(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWANDA:
Samrban ftlormnn, Junnurn 5, IBolj.
.Stltittb ®alt.
Till; LADY ELEANOR:
A TALE OF THE TIME OF CEOMWELL.
r.Y AGNES STRICKLAND.
It was neither a time for marrying nor giv
inir in marriage, when the nuptial vows were
prehanged between the gallftnt cavalier, Col.
Montfort, and Lady Alice Seagrave, one of
the beautiful co-heiresses of a wealthy noble
man. who had contrived to steer his course
throutrh the contending storm of that momen
tum period so cantiously, as to avoid commit
ting himself irrevocably, either with the king
nr the parliament. The bridal of his eldest
daughter was not sanctioned by the consent of
Lord Scagrave, though solemnized within his
own chapel : it was a secret and stolen match,
contracted unknown to him, with no other
witness than the young sister of the pale, trem
bling Alice, and the old porter cf the castle,
Peter Look wood, the foster-father of both the
vouug ladies, and who, on this occasion, took
iipon himself the paternal office of giving away
the noble bride.
Lord Seagrave would sooner have beheld
that fair form, shrouded, coffined, and laid low
in the dust and darkness of the grave, than
seen her finger encircled by the bridal ring
which united her fates with those of the high
minded but impoverished partizan of his cap
tive sovereign. Lady Seagrave, the step
mother of his daughters, had jiersuaded him
that her favorite nephew. Sir James Balders,
would be the most eligible husband he could
select f>r Lady Alice. Sir James Balders had
i v id to the full, as much world-craft ashiin
■!f in the groat struggle between the parlia
ment ami the crown—nay, even more, for he
even enjoyed some credit with the former, in
corceijuence of having taken the covenant,
jr-t at the critical moment when success be
i.an to denote which was the better cause to
them who had not previously made up their
minds on this point.
Hi- e-tates were contiguous to those of
Lord Seagrave. and the alliance appeared very
desirable to all parties but Lady Alice and
Iwr si -tcr. There was ulso another dissentient j
in the family, whose opposition was perhaps
the most important of all. This was father
Benedict, the household jtriest at Bcechmont
11 "ice ; for Lord Scagrave and his daughters
were members of the olden faith. Sir James
Haulers was a sort of lukewarm puritan, and
Father Benedict strenuously advocated the
caue of the Catholic Colonel Montfort to
Lady Alice, who was only too williug to be
lieve that, for once, religion was on the side of
love. Their correspondence, their meetings,
were all arranged, as it were, under the mystic
shadow of the cross, and w hen the trying day
drew near, that the valiant Colonel Montfort
was ordered by his commander, Lord Coring,
on a service of peculiar peril, connected with
the defence of Colchester, Father Benedict
was the first to back his suit to Lady Alice
for a private union.
It was in the cold grey dawn of a showery
April morning, when the said Father Benedict
forsook his pillow without a summons, and
donned his hymeneal stole with the comfortable
reflection that lie was about to perform a good
a A a ri>ptable service to holy mother church,
ly uF'ing the elder co-heiress of the lands
a:. : ■ < mors of Scagrave, to a member of the
I'ri ':- Iv at the same instant as the chapel
f'"' k t id the third hour of morning, the por
taof Bcechmont Hall were cautiously un
f k'ii hv Deter Lockwood the porter, to ad
i! the muffled forui of the cavalier bridegroom,
I ha 1 exchanged velvet hat and drooping
; fir the plain steel cap usually worn by
' Knuud-head troojicrs, and shrouded his
Iv i ii'in in a frieze cloak to escape obser
vatinn. At the same moment the timid yet
.rmis bride and her sister bride-maid, srm
a'bred in their muslin wrapping-dresses,
' ' <-wpls. flowers, or any other nuptial
■ - mlidod with noiseless steps from
parat" chambers, and, exchanging a i
' ••lubracc as they mot in the corridor, liur- j
u i the chapel together by one door, as '
priest with his breviary in his
-'id and the sjmrred and booted colonel, fol
''•v'l by lb tor Lockwood, entered by that
i i -ire. No greeting beyond that of an ex- i
K' cvo pressure of hands took place between
any of t ],. The tapers were dimly
| going at the altar in the misty morning
: f The priest commenced the service of
:: ; a, nmony hi a low, cautious voice, scarcely
v 'p tic compass of a whisper. The respon
• • "f the bridegroom and bride w ere {ironounc
f n the same key, so as to be inaudible ten
iw>s frutn the spot where they stood ; and if
an . v had witnessed the scene from the
'' ■ranee of the chapel, it would have had the
a Ppearanec rather of a visionary tnbfwu con
,''<H up bv fancy's magic, than of one of the
a f'.tatiiig acts of the eventful drama of real life.
> >rt h<mr after the nuptial benediction
j'*d sen given, and the priest with the hum-
in that mysterious bridal had
*■'htlrawn. the bridegroom had exchanged an
adieu with his weeping bride, and
"parted, leaving her and her sister alone in
chapel, among the silent memorials of their
ancient !j riP
1 have done naught to disgrace these,*'
•• L ft dy Alice, pointing to the sculptured
of ertiaders, barons, and grand jnstici
* r ' v England whose names were proudly
, j azr, nei|, not on monumental marbles alone, 1
;T Hie historic records of thpir country.—
1 have exchanged the name of Seagrave for
less illustrious; and if the gifts of
i I"" 1 have been sparingly accorded to my
' '1 'UKI, he is
too richly endowed with high
tl'irifiic ipialiticr, to require them."
" A lice ! how often hove I said with
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
reference to rank as well as fortune, that Na
ture's wealth and Nature's nobility, claimed
the pre-eminence over all other distinctions,"
observed Lady Eleanor.
"True, ray sweet sister, but—"
"Ah ! I knew what yon would say, for you
have said it once before, Alice, repeating,
though in softer words, the stern sentence of
my father, that a plebian WELS no mate for
Lady Eleanor Seagrave."
" I did not apply a term so offensive to him,
did I, Eleanor?"
" No, but you meant it, when you said, Rich
ard Arncliffe surely has not presumed to raise
his thoughts to a Scagrave ! And what were
then your ideas ?"
"Nay, dearest Eleanor, T—"
"Say no more, Alice, for it is evident you
| considered adventitious circumstances alone ;
j remembering the humble birth of the companion
j of onr childhood, and forgetting all those high
1 and heroic qualities, those virtues and talents
which were early appreciated by me, and which
have been since so fully acknowledged by Lis
country."
"But he has gained distinction in a bad
cause, my Eleanor."
"Ay, as we have been taught to call it."
"A good raau and a high-born gentleman
would not have sided with traitors, with fana
tics, and hypocrites," said Lady Alice.
"I have told him so myself, unhappily," said
Lady Eleanor, sighing : "and like a blind idiot
have sacrificed happiness to party feeling. His
high spirit could not brooa injurious taunts
from any one, but least of all from me."
"You have then parted in wrath."
"Yes, never to meet again. These were his
last words. 'The scorn of your proud kindred,
Lady Eleanor, I could have borne, as I have
borne it, for your sake, but your own I cannot,
will not endure. Forget, I pray you, that
one so mnch beneath you as Richard Arncliffe
over dared to think it possible that you could
love him for himself Try, cease to remember
his existence, unless the hour should come
when yon may require the services of one
true friend."
"Nay, then he loves you still ?"
"Yes, in that soreness and bitterness of
spirit which will make the once dear name of
Seagrave a knell to his ear, and her remem
brance as a two-edged sword to his heart,"
said Eleanor, sighing.
"Better to be present to the mind of the
beloved on any terms, than to become the ob
ject of indiffereuce," rejoined Lady Alice, as
they left the chapel.
The scene that had there been transacted
was not suspected by any iudividu&l in Beech
mont House, save those already in the secret;
aud the wedded co-heiress of Seagrave contin
ued to move in the domestic circle, and to pur
sue her maiden occupations as before ; but
there was a pensive abstraction in her manner,
that betrayed that her thoughts were little in
terested in her employments. The pattern
lingered on the embroidery frsrae. Her eye
was unconcious of the contents of the page
on which it rested, when, to escape the task of
mingling in general conversation, she took up
some favorite volume and pretended to bury
herself iu its contents ; and if she tuned her
lute, it was only to give utterance to the
feelings of her heart, by singing ditties of the
gallant and devoted cavaliers whose cause
was becoming every day more perilous ; while
the Mercuries aud Diurnals, as the newspa
pers of those days were called, were watched
for and devoured by her with the most eager
interest, in the hojie of gaining, through the
medium of their columns, intelligence of her
abseut husband. Every day she rose from the
pernsal of these journals of the rival parties
whose strife troubled England, with a pale
cheek and apprehensive heart. She knew that
Montfort was shut up in Colehester with the
last remnants of the adherents of the royal
cause, by the victorious army of Lord Fairfax,
and the accounts of the straitness of the siege
and the suffering of the besieged, from the
scarcity of provisions, and their frequent los
ses of irullnnt and enterprising officers in the
desperate sallies which tiiev were constantly
making upon the beleaguerers, were such as to
fill her with the most acute apprehensions.
With scarcely less intensity of interest were
the same papers scannpd by Lady Eleanor ;
bnt the feelings which attended their pernsal
were certainly of a very different tone from
those of Lady Alice ; for every eolntnn of the
Parliamentary Journal set forth the achieve
ments, or bore testimony of the talents and
popularity of him who engrossed so considera
ble a jiortion of her thoughts.
"How strange !" observed Lord Scagrave,
one day, as he tossed the '/Vr/W Diurnal' \
from his hand with an ejaculation of contempt,
"how passing strange it is, that the Round
head-. should keep up such an eternal pother
about our old apothecary's son, Dick Arn
eliff."
"Are not the destiuies of England chiefly
ruled by the son of a brewer?" rejoined Lady
Eleanor, —"a more ignoble calling, I weeu,
than the Jearued art of pharmacy."
" Humph," retorted Seagrave, "there be
small grounds for dispute, I trow, between the
claims of the quart-pot and the gallipot for
precedency. All I can say is, that I should
l>e sorry to see my family bearings quartered
with the cognizance of either."
"There is little chance now, I fear, of any
of the leading members of the new govern
ment forming an alliance with families suspect
ed of attachment to the old order of things,"
said Lady Eleanor.
"So much the better," rejoined Lord Sea
grave : "I neither desire to connect myself
with ruined spendthrifts nor upstart traitors.
It was a bad day for men who had anything
to lose, w hen the ill-omened names of Cava
liers ami Round-heads were first heard in Eng
land. I protested from the beginning that I
would have nought to do with either. Tell
me of men like mv future son-iu-law, Sir James
Balders."
"A stagnant pool la the midst of a vortex
of contending waves; a dish of skimmed
milk that nothing can agitate but its own acer
bity retorted Lady Eleanor. "My good
father he will never tie son-in-law of yours,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" RESARDLEBS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
unless Lady Seagrave present you with a youn
ger daughter for his bride. Alice and I have
both foresworn him."
"How dare you talk of such rebellings, my
lady prate-apace 1 I tell you Sir James Bal
ders shall be the husband of one ot you ; I
care not which."
"Neither doth he, as we are co-heiresses,"
said Lady Alice ; "bnt I had rather be wed
ded to my shroud than to a husband of his
fashion."
"Your reasons, Madam?"
"They are so numerous that I will only
name one. He is a Puritan."
"So much the better, according to the pre
sent state of things in Eugland, and he hath
promised that you shall have perfect liberty of
conscience."
"Indeed ! and will you confirm his liberal
guarantee, on that most importunt point ?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Then, mv dear lord and father, I nm re
leased from all matrimonial engagements with
Sir James Balders, for my conscience will never
permit me to contract the deadly sin of marrv
ing a heretic and a man whom 1 detest," said
Lady Alice.
"Then Eleanor must,"
"Nay, I have the same objection as my sis
ter."
"At any rate ynv cannot twist your own
perversity into a case of conscience," said Lord
Seagrave, "since yon have once expressed your
willingness to wed a heretic."
"Ay, one of my own choosing, my lord,
which makes all the difference in the world,"
said Lady Eleanor ; "but as that will never
be now, I pray you to allow me to enjoy ray
maiden liberty in quietness, my lord."
"You shall do no such thing. I am deter
mined to choose miue own successor, by wed
ding my co-heiresses after mine own pleasure,
or I shall have two preaching son-in-laws
forced upon me by the parliament forsooth !"
"It will require more power than the parlia
ment possesses, to compel me to wed contrary
to my own good liking," said Lady Eleanor.
"Or me, either," rejoined Lady Alice :
"therefore, good father, let us be at peace."
"I will not allow either of yon to know
what peace is, till I see one or other the wife
of Sir James Balders," rejoined Lord Sea
grave.
Three short weeks after this declaration,
the co-heiresses of Seagrave, by the unexpect
ed death of their father, became the arbitra
tresses of their own destiny, being of full age
to enter into possession of the extensive patri
mony which had devolved upon them as the
sole representatives of their ancient line.
But on the same evening that witnessed the
obsequies of the last Lord Seagrave, the alarm
ing rumor of the fall of Colchester, and the
sanguinary execution of two of the brave de
fenders of that last stroug-hold of loyalty, Sir
George Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas, was bro't
to Beechmont Hall by some of the attendants
on Lord Seagrave's funeral. Scarcely, indeed,
hail the grave closed over his remains, ere this
agitating communication was whispered to the
pale, weeping Alice, whose natural grief lor
the death of her father, had been in no slight
degree aggravated by the reflection of the un
dutifni step she had taken in contracting a
marriage unknown to him, and certainly in op
position to his wishes. The sudden nature of
Lord Seagrave's death in consequence of a fall
from his horse, had prevented her from con
fessing her fault and suing for his pardon ; aud
while she stood beside his grave with the feel
ings of a self-condemned culprit, the tidings
which the sympathizing porter had lingered
beyond the rest of the mourners to communi
cate, fell on her trembling ear like the knell of
her beloved husband ; for Colonel Montfort
was scarcely less distinguished for his zeal and
active services in the royal cause, than the vic
tims who had been immolated by the vindictive
Round-heads.
The chapel with its sable hangings, which
had so recently been tbe scene of her stolen
nuptials, swam before her sight ; she caught at
one of the pillars for support., and, but for the
prompt assistance of her sister, would have
fn'ilen on the marble pavement.
" Be of more courage, Alice, dearest," said
Lady Eleanor. "We know not yet that Col.
Chester has really fallen."
" 111 news is always true," sobbed Lady
Alice, "and my husband, my dear, dear hus
band, is perhaps at this moment a mangled,
disfigured corpse, murdered by the merciless
traitors, who have slain so many noble gentle
men in cold blood."
" Hush, my sweet sister, you may be, and
are. I trust, distressing yourself needlessly"—
interposed Ladv Eleanor. " Colchester is not
so far distant, but we may in the course of a
few hours asetertain all particulars connected
with Col. Montfort."
" Nay, I will ride thither myself," cried
Lady Alice, starting to her feet. " i am my
own mistress now, and where my hnsband is,
there will I lie also. His prison shall he
my palace, and if they kill him they shall kill
me also, and we will bo buried in the same
grave."
" No, Alice, no, yon must not think of such
rash things," cried Lady Eleanor, detaining her
sister with gentle violence.
" No, no, my lady !" said Peter," Colehester
is not a place for gentle ladies the first night
of its fall, neither must it be said that my
lord's own daughter rode forth like leagnering
lass on the night of his bnrial to seek her
lover."
"My hnsband, my own wedded hnsband !"
shrieked Lady Alice, wringing her hands and
struggling with her sister.
" Alice, you must not, shall not go," cried
Ijady Eleanor, " only be patient for this one
night, and we will send Peter to inquire the
truth of these fearful tidings, and how it fares
with Montford ; and then, if need be, we will
go together."
" Be it so, then," said Lady Alice, "but in
the meantime, how long will it take some swift
messenger to ride post haste to Colchester, to
inquire of my husband's state ?"
" My sou James hath already ridden off for
that purpose. Lady Alice." said tbe porter,
"and 1 trust that with God's blessing, wc mgy
look for his return in about six hoar's time.—
! Father Benedict hath also started for Colches
ter, to make espials into the state of things there;
and likewise Sir James Balders, as I heard,
called lustily to horse, as soon as he had led
my Lady Seagrave from the chapel, and I
suppose his purpose was to pay his compli
ments to General Fairfax aud the other
Ronndhcad traitors on their signal triumph."
" The time-serving poltroon !" cried Lady
Alice. " Ay, now may we be sure that Colches
ter hath indeed fallen, and the cause of loyalty
is forever crashed ; but Eleanor, sweet 6ister.
doth not his preseuce at Colchester augur the
worst for me ?"
" Fear not, Lady Alice ; for let the worst
come to the worst, I do suppose one word from
my Lady Eleanor will set all right ; that is, if
she be not too proud to sue master Richard
Arncliff," observed old Peter.
" Eleanor, dear Eleanor !" cried Lady Alice,
grasping her sister's arm beseechingly.
Lady Eleanor turned away. " Alice, it is
impossible !"
" Nay, I will go to him myself, then," said
Lady Alice.
" You, Alice ?"
" Yes, I ;—dost think that a punctilio is to
prevent mc from making an effort to preserve
my hnsband from the same fate which has rob
bed the world of Lisle and Lucas ?"
" Remember, my Lady, yon have promised to
abide patiently till morning,or till the return of
the messengers that have been despatched to
Colchester," said Peter.
" Then I will keep my anxious vigil here,"
cried Lady Alice, seating herself at the foot of
one of those stately canopied tombs, whose mys
tic ornaments and sculptured effigies had escap
ed the desecration of William Dowsing and his
brother parliamentary commissioners, in their
recent destructive visits to the churches and
and chapels in Suffolk.
Sadly and slowly, that long cheerless night
wore away ; and just as the early beams of a
glorious sunrise stole through the lofty stained
windows of the chapel, and lighted up the
richly fretted screen and altar, a step that
seemed, by its hnstv tread, to announce ti
dings of moment, was heard in the corridor
without. It was the porter's son, James
Lockwood, who entered with pale and haggard
looks.
" What news ?" demanded Lady Eleanor.—
James turned a piteous glance upon Lady Alice,
who, unable to articulate the anxious sentence
that trembled on her tongue,sat with wan cheeks
and expanded eyes, gazing in a speechless ago
ny of inquiry on the messenger.
" Sad news, my Lady, sad news for us all :
Colehester has fallen, aud butcher work hath
followed."
" My husband ! my husband !" gasped Ladv
Alice.
" How fares it with Col. Montfort, James ?"
asked Lady Eleanor.
" It was scarcely possible for me to hear any
thing like certainty, my Lady, but—"
"Speak out, we would hear the truth."
" I was told, dear ladies, that he was tried
by a military commission, and—and—"
" He is under sentence of death."
" Dear ladies, you know how these trials
end."
" Ay, with the death-vollev from a file of
murderous troops," said Lady Alice, in a voir#
hoarse with suppressed feelings ; " I said it
would be so."
" I heard that at twelve at noon this day
was the appointed time for the execution of
the brave colonel," whispered James Lockwood
to Lady Eleanor.
" Order four of the swiftest horses to the
post coach," said Lady Eleanor ; " I will ride
a race against time for his life "
As James Lockwood left the chapel to per
form her bidding, a belted horseman in Sir
James Balder's liverv entered with an iron
bonnd coffer on his shoulder, which he placed
before Lady Alice, with these words, " From
Colchester," and flinging the key upon the pave
ment at her feet, strode from the chapel with
a heavy step.
A moment more, and the fearful contents of
that mysterious coff<>r were disclosed to the
mournful gaze of Lady Vlbm. The scarf em
broidered by her own hand, and presented by
her to Montford on the eve of his first battle.
The rosary and cross which lie had fondly tak
en from her neck on the morning of tlicir sto
len nuptials. His sword, with the true lovo
keot still appended which she had attached to
its hilt, and, last and saddest of all, those
heart-rending tokens of his death, his shirt and
ruff deeply stained with blood.
" And is it thus—thus—thus!" murmured
Lady Alice, as she sat contemplating with an
agony too deep—a horror too overwhelming
for tears or cries, these silent witnesses of her
irreparable loss.
" No, Alice, dearest sister, believe it not,"
cried Lady Eleanor ; " this is, I trust, the
malice of James Balders to avenge his slighted
nit. Montford was not to die till noon, and
ere that time his pardon may lie sealed."
"Oh, Never, never! Behold these fatal evi
dences that all is over with him !" said Lady
Alice, pointing to the ensanguined tokens be
fore Iter.
" Nay, these prove nothing beyond the fact
that he is a prisoner," said Lady Eleanor.—
" Alice, dear Alice, there is so strong a feeling
within me that he is living, that I will away
to Colehester within the hour to plead for his
reprieve. Shall we not go together, gentle
Alice ?" continued she, taking the damp cold
hand that still rested as heavily as if its pulses
had ceased to l>eat on the fearful contents of
the coffer.
"It would he useless now," said Lady
Alice, "cruel sister ! last night you might—
you might have saved him, and you would not:
—uow, when his heart's blood is before mc,
you mock uie with hojies that never can he re
alized."
" Only promise me to be caltn till you see mc
again," said Lady Eleanor, as she left the cha
pel. In halt an hour's time she was on the roud
to Colchester.
We w ill not enter into 'the feelings of the
fair traveler during her lonely journey to tbe
I head quarters of the Parliamentary army _
Hitherto, Lady Eleanor had heard mnch of the
horrors of the war ; now, she, for the first time,
witnessed traces of its destroying fnry. The
beautiful trees, and every share of verdure in
the immediate vicinity of Colchester had dis
appeared, and circumvallary lines of blackness
and barrenness marked the ground recently oc
cupied by the besieging army of the Parlia
ment ; and when she entered the town, the
ruinous state of the houses and churches which
had been rent and battered by the fierce bom
bardment, and their swart aspect from the sul
phurous atmosphere which had so often perva
ded those streets from the almost incessant dis
charge of artillery and fire-arms, during the
latter days of the siege ; and above all. the wan,
haggard faces of the few melancholy individu
als who were visible, affordodn fearful testimo
ny of the sufferings of Colchester and its brave
defenders.
Lady Eleanor Reagrave and her escort, con
sisting of four of her late father's servants in
deep mourning, were challenged at the various
barriers that had been erected across the streets,
bnt the name of General Arncliff, which she
pronounced with trembling lips, served a3 a
passport for her admittance ; and as her equip
age proceeded up the high street towards the
custle, where she was informed she should find
him, it was with difficulty that she could repress
the painful ugitation of her spirit. Hervouth,
her beauty, and deep mourning, and the cir
cumstances of her being entirely alone, occa
sioned a sensation of surprise among the offi
cers of the Parliamentary army ; and she had
to encounter many a bold scrutiny, mingled
with looks of unwelcome admiration, when she
quitted her coach and presented herself for ad
mittance at the guarded portals of the castle.
A mortal shudder came over her as her eye
was unconsciously attracted by the dark red
stains of blood on the stoues, which denoted
the spot where the recent mnrdcr of the gal
lant aud unfortunate Lilse and Lucas had been
perpetrated. At the same time the chimes of
one of the neighboring churches warned her
that it was half-pnst eleven o'clock, and the
beating of drums in the quadrangle gave no
tice that the time was fast approaching for the
performance of a similar tragedy with regard
to her sisteris husband, if, indeed, he were not
at that time numbered with the dead.
Nothing but the strong conviction that she
must make an energetic effort for the sake of
that beloved sister, could have nerved the
shrinking heart of Lady Eleanor to proceed
under circumstances replete with such terror,
aud in a place she felt to be so unsuitable.—
At first, the sentinels at the castle portals, as
if they guessed the nature of her errand, rude
ly repulsed her by crossing their pnrtizans
against her entrance, telling her " That it
would be impossible to see General Arncliff
till the execution of the cavalier Colonel was
over."
"Then he yet lives, God be thanked, and I
am not too late !" exclaimed Lady Eleanor,
clasping her hands together, and bursting into
an hysterical passion of weeping.
The soldiers exchanged looks with each
other, as if moved by the emotieu of the fair
suppliant.
"It is the wife of Colonel Montfort," whis
pered one of Lady Eleanor's servants, who had
heard that one of his ladies were secretly wed
ded to the unfortunate cavalier, and naturally
concluded that she, who manifested such an
active interest in his fate, must be the bride.
The sentinels were evidently touched with
pity, yet fearful of the consequences of yield
ing to their releutings.
Lady Eleanor earnestly renewed her suit.
" Whv, look ye, mistress," said one of the
men, " we have no ill will towards you or the
condemned cavalier ; but you are asking that
which may bring us into trouble with our
officers, and can he of no use to you or him
either."
" Oulv let me try 1" cried Lady Eleanor.
" Ay, ay,* let her pass !" said the other.
" Are you willing to take the consequence ?"
asked "his companion.
" Yes," replied the other ; " I have a wife
of my own, you kuow. l'ass on. my mistress,"
continued lie to Lady Eleanor, " only you must
go aioue."
Leaving her servants on the platform with
out the castle, Laly Eleanor followed the
trooper who undertook to conduct her into the
presence of General Arncliff, and with tremb
ling steps ascended the broad staircase of that
gloomy citadel, within whose walls the sentence
of death had so recently been passed on her
sister's husband. Nothing but the reflection
that her errand was on life and death, could
have impelled her forward without a single
friend or attendant, to intrude herself upon
him whose last words had been an injunction
to forget him. Years passed in mutual es
trangement and bitterness of spirit had roiled
over since Lady Eleanor Seagrave and Rich
anl Arncliff had looked upon each other ; and
Lady Eleanor felt that it was not the love of
sick village youth, to whose existence her
smile or frown gave its touc of happiness or
misery, whom she was about to meet, but one
of the master spirits? of the age—one who had
demonstrated to his fellow-men the difference
between the aristocracy of station and the aris
tocracy of tuleut, had taught both royalty and
nobility to feel that Richard Arueliff, the son
of the village surgeon of Beechmont. had no
less a political existence than the proudest peer
of England, lie was alone, seated at a table
covered with papers, with all the stern gravity
and deportment about him resulting from a
habit ot command, and the eonseiousne-s of
occupying a high aud important position in the
newly constituted government of England,
when his musings were suddenly interrupted by
the entrance of Lady Eleanor Seagrave, v ho,
scarcely less to her own consternation than that
i of her long-estranged lover, was announced by
| the scrjcant of the guard, as " the wife of Col.
Lucius Moutford."
Her deep mourning, and the extreme agita
tion of her appearance, favored tbe i lea ; the
color faded from the sun-burned cheek of Arn
cliff as his heart collapsed with the intense ago
ny of that thought.
" Arncliff ! Bicliard Arncliff ! If, indeed, I
may still address you by that on re faimitar
VOL. XVI. NO. 80.
name," said Lady Eleanor, and faltered, for
her eye sank beneath the frowning glance with
which the Parliamentary General relied tu
her imploring looks. How difrerent was the
language of those dark expressive eyes.
" I never could have loved him if I had a!
ways seen him thus!" thought Lady Eleanor,
turning away wish answering pride.
" Be seated, madam," said General Arncliff,
struggling to regain the stern eo'tapusure of
laayncr which was one of the characteristicsV
his party, and motfoniilg her to ftte a chair at
a little distance from his own.
" General Arncliff, M Sid Lady Eleanor, " the
object of rat present unauthorised IWflhsion is
to prefer a petition to you."
" I understand you, madam, and can im
agine how powerful the motive must be which
has procured ine the honor of a visit from—
from Lady Eleanor." General Arneiiff left
the sentence incomplete. It was evident that
he was not disposed to pronounce her name.
"Are you then aware, General Arncliff, that
I have come to solicit the life of the brave Col.
Moutfort ?"
" I am not the chief in command here, ma
dam. It is to General Fairfax that your suit
should be made."
" To him who has already remorselessly mur
dered the gallant Lisle and Lucas iu co'.d
blood ! Hear me, Richard Arneliff—changed
as you are, cold, haughty, and unkind though
you be, I claim the promise yon once made to
me, of rendering me the office of a true friend,
if ever I required one at my need. That time
is now come, and I charge you by the memo
ry of those sweet days wheu the distinctiou of
rank and party were not felt by us, that you
exert your powerful influence for the preserva
tion of the life of the gallant Montfort. God
knoweth how earnestly I would have pleaded
for you with him, if your cases had been revers
ed," she added, drawing her hand across her
eyes.
Those of Arneliff brightened.
" 1 thought that the humbly born Richard
Arneliff was no less an object of coutempt to
you than to your haughty family ?" said he.
" \\ lmt reasons did I ever give you for
thinking so ?" asked Lady Eleanor.
"Ah ! Elean or, have you forgotteu your
cruel language when last we met ?"
" Richard Arneliff, I told you then, and I
repeat it. that your present perilous exaltation
has neither increased the respect or love of a
heart like that of Eleanor Seagrave."
Yet you come to me as a suppliant, proud
ladv."
" 1 do. and in the full confidence of not re
ceiving a denial." ,
" You ask that which isnot in ray gift—the
life of Lucius Montfort."
" I will not be denied to General Arucliff,"
said Lady Eleanor.
"That remains to be proved," returned he ;
" however, for your sake the effort shall be
made, cost what it may," added he, as he left
the room.
In less than a quarter of an hour he return
ed with two papers in his hand. " This," said
he, presenting the first, which was torn in half,
to Lndy Eleanor, "this, madam, is the cancel
led warrant for your husband's execution The
other is an order for his liberation, which the
council has granted at my request, and which
I have now the satisfaction of pat ting into your
hands, lie was severely wounded during the
last desperate sally of the besieged, but I trust
you will find him able to travel with you to
your father's mausioD, if you purpose taking
him there.''
"That mansion is now Col. Montfort'sown,
in consequence of his marriage with the eider
co-heiress of Sengrave."
"I thought you had l>een the youiigtst of
Lord Scagrave's daughters."
" Undoubtedly I am ; but not as you suppose,
the wife of Col. Aloutfort. lie is my sister's
husband."
" And you, Eleanor, you are—"
" Still free from every vow, save that which
I plighted to my first, my last, my only love,
in the moonlight groves of Heeehinout, one
sweet midsummer eve, so many years agone
now, that he hath perehanee forgotten it," said
Lady Eleanor, srnii ug.
We will not trespa.s upowottr render's time
by recording the rejoinder of Richard Arucliff.
Suliiee it to say that the public acknowledg
ment of the marriage of Luly Alice Seagrave
with the pardoned cnvaiier was in due time
followed by a union between Lady Eleanor and
the Parliamentary General, through whose iu
teression the gallant Colonel had been preserv
ed front the fate of his brave companions in
arms, Sir Charles Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas.
A Qrr.rp. IIEMKHY.—A good lady, who had
two children sick with the measles, wrote to *
friend for the best remedy. The friend who
had just r c.'ived a note from another lady,
inquiring tlie way to mike pickles. In the
confusion, the lady who had inquired about
the pickles, received the remedy for the men
slcs, ami the anxious mother of the two ehil
dron rend with horror the following :—"Scald
the n three or four times in very hot vinegar,
and sprinkle them well with salt : in a few
dnvs they will be cured."
fST" To enjoy to-day stop worrying alout
to-morrow. Next week will be just as capa
ble of taking core of itself as this one ; and
why should it not ?—it will have seven days
inorc experience.
The intercourse of friendship is a eon
cordial for the heart. It beguiles the hour of
grief; gently weans the thoughts from the
1 selfishness of sorrow, aud gives the mourner to
feel that earth is not a wilderness.
A country newspaper says, "Several
' deaths are unavoidably postponed." Wish
! auy quantity ru'ght be served the same vav.
BASUH-LVESS.—Bashfulut'BS is not a fault ;
it is more a nervous affection than auything
| else. Tha over-bashful should mix iu socictv,
, and < nitrate an indifference to outward rvui
tcam,.