determined to see her again, ordered that the neighbourhood should be searched by Alois and his people. He was certain she could not have gone far without finding protection, and therefore he thought that some information might be obtained. This idea was confirmed. Alois attired himself as a mendicant, and in the neighbourhood of Sheffield he met a brilliant cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen, among whom he instantly recognised the young Lady Mary. They had come from Godway Castle, and the Duke of Nottingham was at their head. To obtain admission to the castle, under pretence of asking nourishment, was easy; but to take the young lady away was almost impossible; for she lived in the family circle, receiving all the attention that etiquette and safety demanded. The earl was therefore compelled to await the arrival of his brother, before he could do anything more."

During this long relation, Mazarin had from time to time noted down some few words on a paper before him, but his sharp eye had remarked every movement of the old man, whose actions were rather peculiar. The pale meagre face remained the same throughout his narrative; the eye had been sunk on the ground; but he had a habit of moving his hand quickly backwards and forwards in the air, and this movement he accompanied with a bitter and contemptuous smile, which revealed his opinion to his auditor, although his words were merely those of a humble and devoted servant.

Mazarin perceived that, by this action, he designated those persons towards whom he privately felt hatred—a feeling that redoubled the zeal excited by his duty towards the holy order. Though such a betrayal of his inward opinion was to be blamed-for the laws of this order required perfect outward self-control-yet Mazarin did not, in this case, venture to reprove. He had no suspicion of him; for Porter's treachery towards the prince was so well concealed, and his love and solicitude for his master were so well know and had been so often tried, that he was looked upon as a faithful servant, and therefore shared in the most important occurrences of the prince's life, by which means they became known to the holy order. At the same time, the superiors of that order took care to test his obedience by many proofs, fearing that even that obedience

was disadvantageous to them; for his often-excited scruples of conscience were to be imputed to the society of the prince, whose pure, honourable, and virtuous character was not without its influence in counteracting the sophistical maxims which had been instilled into Porter. The order had also represented to him that his heavy duty arose from its love to the prince, whom the fathers would protect from his enemies; and having taken him under their special guardianship, they hoped to be able to rescue him from the fetters of heresy.

Porter's capabilities did not reach far, but he had the taleut for observing little things; and his representations to his superiors showed that he never overlooked anything essential, nor was ever at a loss for means to obtain knowledge. He was, therefore, an invaluable agent in the midst of a court, more especially as he required no further incitement than the approbation of the holy church, and the great fear which the superiors knew how to instil into him. His natural love for intrigue, developed from his youth upwards, and now the only charm of his dreary and lonely life, maintained him in his position.

"First," said Mazarin, with the coldness of the superior who listens to a narrative which he had commanded-"first, you must let me know what Buckingham decides--whether he has ascertained the abode of the lady, and what he knows respecting her. Secondly," added he, with a piercing look, which sometimes revealed his mind-"secondly, I will see whatever messenger or letter Buckingham or Membroke may send away. Davenant will regard this as a preliminary inducement," he continued, handing a heavy purse to Porter. "You, individually, can have little esteem for such things you can have had no expenses; and the order would refuse to see your reckoning, since you have had your reward in the contents of that box. But take this, and do not spare such miserable means."

Porter took with indifference a certain sum, whilst he said, with pride, "Remember, that I do not receive this on my own account, as you have rightly stated."

Without answering, Mazarin turned away. His experience had

amply satisfied him of the efficiency of such means, and he never failed to avail himself of its influence upon his tools. With Porter, however, it served merely for the accessory operations, which must not be allowed to fail. The latter received the commands for his service with due deference, and then went on his secret way; whilst Mazarin gave himself up to Benville's hands, in order to prepare for his couch, where he sought sleep as if it could be commanded by him to whom life was valuable only in so far as it gave all to his will.

CHAPTER XV.

It would be difficult to penetrate the chaos of thoughts into which Buckingham was plunged. He felt the necessity of some decision, because the returning consciousness of the prince would call forth requisitions which he must prepare himself to answer.

It irritated him to find that such an important secret should have been withheld from him-that his spies should have overlooked anything so weighty-that the prince, whom he had so long tolerated as a young boy, had, in conjunction with his despised and forgotten sister, thus deceived him, in a matter which would have most flattered his ambition, and raised him to the highest point of splendour. This means of ennobling his family to the greatest degree, and of thwarting Bristol, who had treated him with deserved neglect, in the midst of his operations-this event, which he had endeavoured to bring about before the prince became heir to the throne, and had relinquished in despair-this had now happened, without his assistance or knowledge. All this, and the humiliating conviction that his power was not all-potent, called forth a resentment and anger which overcame all other consideration.

This feeling would have been more moderate had his sister yet lived to assist his ambition; but her death rendered the prince again the free property of the state, and he foresaw that these

neglected advantages, if known, would render him everywhere more ridiculous than enviable. He was obliged to confess with detestation, that the prince had used him as a tool in the Spanish journey, by withholding his confidence; whilst he had calculated upor making use of the prince in his plans against Bristol. For so many humiliations and lost advantages, a royal niece appeared but a poor compensation. She was even a burden and a hindrance to his plans; and all the vexations which his proud heart fancied to have suffered through her mother, now fell upon this innocent being, whose sacrifice seemed to him but a small revenge for his many injuries. Certainly, he must confess that the acknowledgment of her lawful existence must finish what he had begun in Spain; but even this affair was settled for him; for Spain now not only expressed disinclination to the union of the families, but pointed towards open enmity. He would not have this breach, which he, triumphing over Bristol, strove to take to himself alone, imputed to a cause in its circumstances insulting to himself, but he wished it to be said that it failed because Buckingham had not willed it.

The announcement of this secret union was also but little suited to promote the new views of Buckingham, who desired not only to wrest out of Bristol's hands the great work of marrying the prince, but to accomplish that important event himself. With this view, he had led the prince through France, in his way to Spain; and while he suffered his natural advantages to win the favour of the court of Louis XIII., and the prince himself to become acquainted with the blooming beauty of the Princess Henrietta, daughter of Henry IV., he had disposed Richelieu to a union between them, by representing the prince as already in love, and the visit to Spain as a means of obtaining Henrietta. Richelieu had no interest in not believing this: the union suited him; and he knew, better than Buckingham did, its recommendations. But he knew not how to remove the difficulty, which he had some trouble in concealing; especially as his knowledge of the sister being yet alive must have made some alteration in the plan.

Richelieu therefore resolved not to let this be discovered by the duke, until he had driven the affair far enough to compel his pride

to carry it on, and to be obliged to remove the obstacle. For though the Duke of Buckingham aimed at being a powerful diplomatic agent, he was too much the prey of his passions to become so with dignity and superiority; and how could so great an affair prosper in his hands, when the settlement of those minor points, which he might have accomplished with ease, was frustrated by the haughtiness and carelessness of his whole bearing, even in the gravest affairs. Notwithstanding this often happened, he scru pled not to impute to his own talents that which was owing to his clever emissaries, or to the fear of his unbridled revenge. In like manner, he treated this French union with a levity which could not fail to involve him in personal danger, and which rendered him quite unfit for a negotiator, to which his ambition aspired.

Anne of Austria lived at the court of her husband, Louis XIII., as a despised wife. Although for thirteen years the most beautiful and talented woman that ever adorned a throne, she was the object of her husband's unconquerable dislike. Young and proud, she bore her hard fate with deep vexation, successfully guarding her conduct from the reproach of having deserved it. How could Buckingham associate with a woman whose magic beauty at once captivated him, and whose peculiar position was no secret, without using the temptations which the bold licentiousness of a spoiled spendthrift might devise, to lead astray the heart and conscience of a passionate woman. It was certain that Richelieu knew this, for he knew and guided every acquaintance of the unhappy queen; but the disposition of the duke had provided him with such a spy as Buckingham did not dream of, who saw through him, and wound himself round him.

Mazarin, whose plain exterior would remove every suspicion, had, by the slow influence of habit, by a well-cultivated mind, by a gentle manner, rendered attractive by little caprices and whims, and, above all, by the silent expression of a devoted, unhappy attachment to the queen, at last softened the proud heart of this passionate woman. Possessing a complete control over her, and increasing this by the capricious singularities which he accustomed her to bear, he still kept his Italian warmth of feeling under his own control, in