in Europe. He only means to deceive you, as he has done all

others."

"It was because I knew you to be so hasty in judgment," said Lord Bristol," that I did not tell you this before. But I think I can convince you that your father, who has become gray in the path of politics, will not now fall into the snare of a French cardinal." The duchess did not interrupt him, and he continued:

All that I have done towards the union of England with Spain is irrevocably destroyed. France regarded this alliance with an envious eye, because it would give England an overwhelming preponderance in European affairs; and knowing, as they did, with whom this plan originated, and by whom it was carried out, I became the victim of their secret machinations. All the difficulties which the Papal court threw in our way were instigated by France, and were frustrated only by the friendship which existed between Philip and myself, which gave my counsels more weight than all the intrigues of the wily French cardinal. The reconciliation of the prince with Buckingham, followed by their journey to Spain, favoured the views of France, even beyond its hopes, and it quickly took advantage of that which it was not in my power to prevent. Alas! a cap and bells has often accomplished that which prudence attempted in vain, This alliance, which Richelieu, supported by the power of the court of Rome, could not prevent, was broken off by the crazy haughtiness of a malicious fool, who, in a silly mood, betted his shoe-buckles against it. Then Buckingham came forward, without disguising his evil designs, and unscrupulous in the use of any means which could lead to their fulfilment, he broke down that on which all rested— faith in the morals and honesty of England." "And the prince?" inquired the duchess.

"I have in vain at

I never had a high

tempted to solve the enigma of his character. opinion of him, but now he has shown himself to be destitute of dignity, kindness, or honourable feeling. How could he make that man his friend who had raised his hand against him? How could he turn away from all whom he had formerly loved?"

"The prince is certainly very different from what we expected; but before I can agree in your opinion respecting him, I must watch

him more closely. I do not impute this change to an alteration in his disposition: there is some secret feeling, at which I have not yet been able to arrive. One thing only is certain, that since he lost his good angel, your beloved husband, he has been in the power of a wicked spirit, which, towards the world at least, has warped all his actions. Perhaps we should discover the key to all this, had I been able to learn the true motive of your husband's journey to Spain; but that it was instigated by the prince is the only point that appears clear to me."

"It is strange," said the duchess, gloomily: "the prince seemed to grudge me my husband from the first moment: he deprived me of his company through life, and he has robbed me of him for ever."

Bristol was unwilling to sharpen these accusations by contradicting them; he therefore led the conversation back to the subject first started.

"France," said he, "has at last attained its object-the substitution of the Princess Henrietta for the Infanta; but the court now regards with suspicion those whose crazy zeal furthered his plans. The princess will act as Richelieu's ambassador: her influence over the prince must be uncontested and assured; and already every wheel is put into motion to overthrow the haughty Buckingham, or, at least, to give him a counterpoise. Richelieu's plan, therefore, is to unite me with the interests of the princess, through her to reconcile me to the court, and thus to oppose the duke.

"Pardon me," said the duchess, coldly, "if I do not understand you. You have taught me that it is not right to seek happiness and favour by any other means than those of truth and sincerity. I did not expect to see you regain, through Richelieu's craftiness, that position of which you have been robbed by injustice. Certainly, the simple prayer of a daughter, for justice to her father, would affront the proud cardinal, who is now glorying in seeing his schemes on the eve of their accomplishment.

Arabella," said the earl, looking with a smile at the dignified form of his daughter, "you are the same now as when, at Digby Castle, you menaced your father, if he ventured to recommend any

You were

alteration in your childish plans to rule the world. brought up without being controlled; you have never been subjected to restraint, and your will is become a law to yourself, and to all around you."

"Oh, father," said the duchess, "it is not kind to censure those who, weary of grief and deceit, choose the simple right as their rule of action."

I do not chide, still less am I angry with you, my child; but guard yourself against mistaking, for a love of what is right, that wounded pride which prompted your words. Those minds which desire to act correctly, should be careful to examine whether they can decide between right and wrong. When I grasp the hand which is offered to me, can any one doubt, and you before all, that I do it with higher views? The enemy of my country stands at the foot of the throne, and the prince is lost if he remain in Buckingham's hands. I have now no power to break the chains which surround him. Richelieu therefore does this. I have never deceived him he knows that my life has been entirely free from selfishness. He talks of love for England-I feel it. We use the same language towards each other: he uses that which he thinks will deceive me; I speak from the conviction which lies in my heart. Το reconcile me with the king is beyond his power, and he thinks me contemptible for desiring the favour of a silly old man; yet to effect this is my first aim, and I expect every hour to be called to London for that purpose."

In the evening of the same day, a little troop of armed men waited on the steps which led to the terrace; a door in the Italian wing opened; a tall figure, wrapped in a large mantle, glided out, and descended the steps; and soon the noise of retreating horses was heard. The next morning the duchess announced to all at table that the Earl of Bristol was gone for some days to Digby Castle, and her cold haughty manner made it evident to all that she did not wish any further remarks to be made on the subject.

CHAPTER XXV.

Once again the old palace of Whitehall was animated by the splendour and brilliancy of a court ceremony. Buckingham had won the consent of the dying king to his plan of being publicly declared ambassador from the Prince of Wales to Henrietta of France. The vanity of the duke was strongly excited: he longed to witness the jealousy of the other noblemen; and he almost wished to recal Lord Bristol from his banishment, in order that he also might be a spectator of his brilliant triumph.

Buckingham's house resembled a market, to which everything that is beautiful and costly is brought, and the different tradespeople were all waiting to receive that nod which denoted approbation of their goods. To-day, however, he hastened along to his own apartments, without giving the slightest heed to the assemblage that bordered his way. The spacious hall was converted into a packing-room, and the floor was strewed with rare articles of all kinds, which he intended to carry with him in order to make a brilliant appearance in Paris.

To-day, Maxwell was the only person to whom Buckingham would give his attention. He made his appearance, laden with stuffs, embroidered in gold and silver, and with the most splendid jewels, and would not be repulsed until his master had made his choice. One person, however, now alone occupied Buckingham's thoughts, even beguiling him from the contemplation of his journey. This was Lord Membroke. For a long time past the duke had expected either to see him, or to receive some intelligence of the success of his scheme; and he had lately sent messengers to the house which had been prepared for his niece's reception; but they returned with the information that the lady was still expected, and that no tidings had been heard of Lord Membroke.

Buckingham would not have doubted of his having eloped with the Lady Mary, had he not thoroughly understood Membroke's

character; for he knew him too well to suppose that any love affair, however romantic, could detain him from his side at the moment when a journey so well calculated to give full scope to his vanity, was about to take place. The duke was, for once in his life, obliged to be patient; but not a day passed without some little trifle at his toilet reminding him of the earl's absence, and causing him to give vent to expressions of the most vehement wrath.

It was on the morning of the day previous to that on which the levée was to take place, that the door of the duke's cabinet opened, and Membroke's graceful figure stood before him. Maxwell, who' was present, gazed with astonishment when he beheld his master fly into the earl's arms, while he congratulated him on the good fortune of having arrived in time for that audience which was to be the crowning point of his triumph, and which he now began to describe, even from the anxious face of the old king, to the jewels with which he himself was to be adorned; ending by exhorting Membroke to render his appearance as brilliant as possible.

Whoever had observed these two men would have imagined that Buckingham was the suppliant for pardon, and Membroke the angered and insulted man; but Maxwell, who understood his master's character, knew that he was always governed by the caprice of the moment, and that in an instant he would destroy by his carelessness the web of intrigue which he had spent perhaps years in weaving. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, the duke exclaimed, while his face became scarlet with passion,

"Ha, my lord! I understand why you behave so graciously to me: you fear my reception of the intelligence you have to give me. Speak directly-where is she? Have you ventured to act contrary to my commands? You shall fearfully lament it, if you have disobeyed me. Villain! traitor!"

"Stay," cried Membroke, suddenly thrusting the duke on one side, "I am not inclined to be the victim of your unrestrained feelings. It is I who must receive intelligence from you. Why have you withdrawn this lady, whom I protected as an honourable man, from under my care? Why did you permit me to wander about, expecting to hear from you? At last I took the only means