HARD TIMES. (Continued from page 233). "So far that's true enough," assented Mr. Bounderby, with his hands in his pockets and his hat on. "But I have known you people before to-day, you'll observe, and I know you never die for want of talking. Now, I recommend you not so much to mind talking just now, as doing. You have undertaken to do something; all I remark upon that at present is, do it!" "I have written to Stephen by the post that went out this afternoon, as I have written to him once before sin' he went away," said Rachael; "and he will be here, at furthest, in two days." "Then I'll tell you something.. You are not aware, perhaps," ," retorted Mr. Bounderby, "that you yourself have been looked after now and then, not being considered quite free from suspicion in this business, on account of most people being judged according to the company they keep. The post-office hasn't been forgotten either. What I'll tell you is, that no letter to Stephen Blackpool has ever got into it. Therefore, what has become of yours, I leave you to guess. Perhaps you're mistaken, and never wrote any." "He hadn't been gone from here, young lady," said Rachael, turning appealingly to Louisa, "as much as a week, when he sent me the only letter I have had, saying that he was forced to seek work in another name." "Oh, by George!" cried Bounderby, with a whistle," he changes his name, does he! That's rather unlucky, too, for such an immaculate lad. It's considered a little suspicious in Courts of Justice, I believe, when an Innocent happens to have many names." "What," said Rachael, with the tears in her eyes again," what, young lady, in the name of Mercy, was left the poor lad to do! The masters against him on one hand, the men against him on the other, he only wantin' to work hard in peace, and do what he felt right. Can a man have no soul of his own, no mind of his own? Must he go wrong all through wi' this side, or must he go wrong all through wi' that, or else be hunted like a hare?" "Indeed, indeed, I pity you from my heart," returned Louisa; "and I hope that he will clear himself." "You need have no fear of it, young lady. He is sure!" “All the surer, I suppose," said Mr. Bounderby, "for your refusing to tell where he is? Eh, lass?" "He shall not, through any act of mine, come back wi' the unmerited reproach of being brought back. He shall come back of his own accord to clear himself, and put all those that have injured his good character, and he not here for its defence, to shame. I have told him what has been done against him," said Rachael, throwing off all distrust as a rock throws off the sea, " and he will be here, at furthest, in two days." "Notwithstanding which," added Mr. Bounderby, "if he can be laid hold of sooner, he shall have an earlier opportunity of clearing himself. As to you, I have nothing against you; what you came and told me turns out to be true, and I have given you the means of proving it to be true, and there's an end of it. I wish you good night all! I must be off to look a little further into this." Tom came out of his corner when Mr. Bounderby moved, moved with him, kept close to him, and went away with him. The only parting salutation of which he delivered himself was a sulky, "Goodnight, father!" With that brief speech, and a scowl at his sister, he left the house. The two appointed days ran out, three days and nights ran out, and Stephen Blackpool was not come, and remained unheard of. On the fourth day, Rachael, with unabated confidence, but considering her dispatch to have miscarried, went up to the Bank, and showed her letter from him, with his address, at a working colony, one of many, not upon the main road, some sixty miles away. Messengers were sent to that place, and the whole town looked for Stephen to be brought in next day. All this time the whelp moved about with Mr. Bounderby, like his shadow, assisting in all the pro Since his sheet-anchor had come home, Mr. Gradgrind had been sparing of speech. He still sat silent, when Louisa mildly said: "Rachael, you will not distrust me one day, when ceedings. He was greatly excited, horribly fevered, you know me better." "It goes against me," Rachael answered, in a gentle manner, "to mistrust any one; but when I am so mistrusted-when we all are-I can not keep such things quite out of my mind. I ask your pardon for having done you an injury. I don't think what I said, now. Yet I might come to think it again, wi' the poor lad so belied." "Did you tell him in your letter," inquired Sissy, "that suspicion seemed to have fallen upon him, because he had been seen about the Bank at night? He would then know what he would have to explain on coming back, and would be ready." "Yes, dear," she returned; "but I can't guess what can have ever taken him there. He never used to go there. It was never in his way. His way was the same as mine, and not near it." Sissy had already been at her side asking her where she lived, and whether she might come tomorrow night, to inquire if there were news. "I doubt," said Rachael, "if he can be here till next day." "Then I will come next night, too," said Sissy. When Rachael, assenting to this, was gone, Mr. bit his nails down to the quick, spoke in a hard rattling voice, and with lips that were black and burnt up. At the time when the suspected man was looked for, the whelp was at the station, offering to wager that he had made off before the arrival of those who were sent in quest of him, and that he would not appear. The whelp was right. The messengers returned alone. Rachael's letter had gone, Rachael's letter had been delivered, Stephen Blackpool had decamped in that same hour; and no soul knew more of him. The only doubt in Coketown was, whether Rachael had written in good faith, believing that he really would come back; or warning him to fly. On this point opinion was divided. Six days, seven, far on into another week. The wretched whelp plucked up a ghastly courage, and began to grow defiant. "Was the suspected fellow the thief? A pretty question! If not, where was the man, and why did he not come back?" Where was the man, and why did he not come back? In the dead of night the echoes of his own words, which had rolled Heaven knows how far away in the daytime, came back instead, and abided Gradgrind lifted up his head, and said to his by him until morning. daughter: "Louisa, my dear, I have never, that I know of, seen this man. Do you believe him to be implicated?" I think I have believed it, father, though with great difficulty. I do not believe it now." "That is to say, you once persuaded yourself to believe it, from knowing him to be suspected. His appearance and manner; are they so honest ?" "Very honest." "And her confidence not to be shaken. I ask myself, then," said Mr. Gradgrind, musing, "does the real culprit know of these accusations? Where is he? Who is he?" His hair had latterly begun to change its color. As he leaned upon his hand, again looking gray and old, Louisa, with a face of fear and pity, hurriedly went over to him, and sat close at his side. Her eyes by accident met Sissy's at this moment. Sissy flushed and started, and Louisa put her finger on her lip. Next night, when Sissy returned home and told Louisa that Stephen was not come, she told it in a whisper. Next night again, when she came home with the same account, and added that he had not been heard of, she spoke in the same low frightened tone. From the moment of that interchange of looks, they never uttered his name, or any reference to him aloud; nor ever pursued the subject of the robbery when Mr. Gradgrind spoke of it. DAY and night again, day and night again. No Stephen Blackpool. Where was the man, and why did he not come back? Every night Sissy went to Rachael's lodging, and sat with her in her small neat room. All day, Rachael toiled as such people must toil, whatever their anxieties. The smoke-serpents were indifferent who was lost or found, who was bad or good; the melancholy mad elephants, like the Hard Fact men, abated nothing of their set routine, whatever happened. Day and night again, day and night again, the monotony was unshaken. Even Stephen Blackpool's disappearance was falling into the general way, and becoming as monotonous a wonder as any piece of machinery in Coketown. "I misdoubt," said Rachael, "if there is as many as twenty left in all this place who have any trust in the poor dear lad now." She said it to Sissy as they sat in her lodging, lighted only by the lamp at the street corner. Sissy had come there when it was already dark, to wait for her return from work; and they had since sat at the window where Rachael had found her, wanting no brighter light to shine on their sorrowful talk. "If it hadn't been mercifully brought about that I was to have you to speak to," pursued Rachael, "times are when I think my mind would not have kept right. But I get hope and strength through you, and you believe that though appearances may rise against him, he will be proved clear, living or dead." "Let us hope that to-morrow will bring something Bounderby's dining-room, where the people behind better, Rachael. Come into the air!" lost not a moment's time in mounting on the chairs to get the better of the people in the front. "Fetch Mr Bounderby down!" cried Mrs. Sparsit. "Rachael, young woman; you know who this is?" "It's Mrs. Pegler," said Rachael. "I should think it is!" cried Mrs. Sparsit, exult"Fetch Mr. Bounderby. Stand away, every Her gentle hand adjusted Rachael's shawl upon her shining black hair in the usual manner of her "I do believe so," returned Sissy, "with my wearing it, and they went out. The night being whole heart. I feel so certain, Rachael, that the fine, little knots of Hands were here and there confidence you hold in yours against all discourage-lingering at street-corners; but it was supper-time ment, is not like to be wrong, that I have no more with the greater part of them, and there were but doubt of him than if I had known him through few people in the streets. ing. as many years of trial as you have." "You are not so hurried now, Rachael, and your body!" Here old Mrs. Pegler, muffling herself up, hand is cooler." and shrinking from observation, whispered a word of entreaty. "Don't tell me," said Mrs. Sparsit aloud, "I have told you twenty times, coming along, that I will not leave you til! I have handed you over to him myself." "And I, my dear," said Rachael, with a tremble in her voice, "have known him through them all, to be, according to his quiet ways, so faithful to everything honest and good, that if he was never to be heard of more, and I was to live to be a hundred years old, I would say with my last breath, God knows my heart, I have never once left trusting Stephen Blackpool!" "I get better dear, if I can only walk and breathe a little fresh. Times when I can't, I turn weak and confused." 46 But you must not begin to fail, Rachael, for you may be wanted at any time to stand for Stephen. To-morrow is Saturday. If no news comes tomorrow, let us walk in the country on Sunday "We all believe, up at the lodge, Rachael, that he morning, and strengthen you for another week. will be freed from suspicion, sooner or later." "The better I know it to be so believed there, my dear," said Rachael, "and the kinder I feel it that you come away from there purposely to comfort me, and keep me company, and be seen wi' me when I am not yet free from all suspicion myself, the more grieved I am that I should ever have spoken those mistrusting words to the young lady. And yet-" "You don't mistrust her now, Rachael?" "Now that yon have brought us more together, no; not her. But I can't at all times keep out of my mind-" Her voice so sunk into a low and slow communing with herself, that Sissy, sitting by her side, was obliged to listen with attention. "I can't at all times keep out of my mind, mistrustings of some one. I can't think who 'tis, I can't think how or why it may be done, but I mistrust that some one has put Stephen out of the way. I mistrust that by his coming back of his own accord, and showing himself innocent before them all, some one would be confounded, who-to prevent that has stopped him and put him out of the way." Will you go?" "Yes, dear." They were by this time in the street where Mr. Bounderby's house stood. The way to Sissy's destination led them past the door, and they were going straight toward it. Some train had just arrived in Coketown, which had put a number of vehicles in motion, and scattered a considerable bustle about the town. Several coaches were rattling before them and behind them as they approached Mr. Bounderby's, and one of the latter drew up with such briskness as they were in the act of passing the house, that they looked round in voluntarily. The bright gas-light over Mr. Bounderby's steps showed them Mrs. Sparsit in the coach in an ecstacy of excitement, struggling to open the door; Mrs. Sparsit seeing them at the same moment, called on them to stop. "It's a coincidence," exclaimed Mrs. Sparsit, as she was released by the coachman. "It's a Providence! Come out, ma'am !" then said Mrs. Sparsit, to some one inside, "come out, or we'll have you dragged out!" Hereupon, no other than the mysterious old "That is a dreadful thought," said Sissy turning woman descended; whom Mrs. Sparsit incontipale. nently collared. "It is a dreadful thought to think he may be murdered." Sissy shuddered, and turned paler yet. "When it makes its way into my mind, dear," said Rachael," and it will come sometimes, though I do all I can to keep it out, wi' counting on to high numbers as I work, and saying over and over again pieces that I knew when I were a child, I fall into such a wild hot hurry, that, however tired I am, I want to walk fast, miles and miles. I must get the better of this before my bed-time. I will walk home wi' you now." "Leave her alone, every body!" cried Mrs. Sparsit, with great energy. "Let nobody touch her. She belongs to me. Come in, ma'am !" then said Mrs. Sparsit, reversing her former word of command. “Come in, ma'am, or we'll have you dragged in!" The spectacle of a Roman-nosed matron of classical deportment, seizing an ancient woman by the throat, and hauling her into a dwelling-house, would have been, under any circumstances, sufficient temptation to all true English stragglers so blest as to witness it, to force a way into that dwelling-house and see the matter-out. But when the phenomenon was enhanced by the notoriety and mystery by this time associated all over the town, with the Bank robbery, it would have lined the stragglers with an "But he is in none of them. He's been sought irresistable attraction, though the roof had been exfor in all, and he's not there." "He might fall ill upon the journey," said Sissy, faintly offering a worn-out scrap of hope; "and in such a case there are many places on the road where he might stop." "True," was Sissy's reluctant admission. "He'd walk the journey in two days. If he was footsore and couldn't walk, I sent him, in the letter he got, the money to rido, lest he should have none of his own to spare." Mr. Bounderby now appeared, accompanied by Mr. Gradgrind and the whelp, with whom he had been holding conference up-stairs. Mr. Bounderby looked more astonished than hospitable at sight of this uninvited party in his dining-room. "Why, what's the matter now!" said he. "Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am?" "I trust it "Sir," explained that worthy woman, is my good fortune to produce a person you have much desired to find. Stimulated by my wish to relieve your mind, sir, and connecting together such imperfect clews to the part of the country in which that person might be supposed to reside, as have been afforded by the young woman, Rachael, fortunately now present to identify, I have had the happiness to succeed, and to bring that person with me-I need not say most unwillingly on her part. It has not been, sir, without some trouble that I have effected this; but trouble in your service is to me a pleasure, and hunger, thirst, and cold, a real gratification." Here Mrs. Sparsit ceased, for Mr. Bounderby's visage exhibited an extraordinary combination of all possible colors and expressions of discomfiture as old Mrs. Pegler was disclosed to his view. "Why, what do you mean by this?" was his highly unexpected demand, in great wrath. "I ask you what do you mean by this, Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am?" "Sir?" exclaimed Mrs. Sparsit, faintly. "Why don't you mind your own business, ma'am?" roared Bounderby. "How dare you go and poke your officious nose into my family affairs?" This allusion to her favorite feature overpowered Mrs. Sparsit. She sat down stiffly in a chair, as if she were frozen, and with a fixed stare at Mr. Bounderby, slowly grated her mittens against one another, as if they were frozen. "My dear Josiah," said Mrs. Pegler, trembling, "my darling boy! I am not to blame. It's not my fault, Josiah. I told this lady over and over again, that I knew she was doing what would not be agreeable, but she would do it." "What did you let her bring you for? Couldn t you knock her cap off, or her tooth out, or scratch her, or do something to her?" asked Bounderby. "My own boy! She threatened me that if I repected to fall upon their heads. Accordingly, the sisted her I should be brought by constables, and it chance witnesses on the ground, consisting of the was better to come quietly than make that stir busiest of the neighbors, to the number of some five- in such a-" Mrs. Pegler glanced timidly but and-twenty, closed in after Sissy and Rachael, as proudly round the walls-" such a fine house as they closed in after Mrs. Sparsit and her prize; and this. Indeed, indeed, it is not my fault; my dear, the whole body made a disorderly irruption into Mr. | noble, stately boy. I have always lived quiet and secret, Josiah, my dear. I have never broken the "I am surprised, madam," he observed with natural and inhuman treatment of him." your slanders and suspicions. And I never stood The bystanders, on and off the dining-room chairs, "I don't exactly know," said Mr. Bounderby, had presented itself in the same shapeless guise, this very day to Sissy when Rachael spoke of some one who would be confounded by Stephen's return, having put him out of the way. Louisa had never spoken of her harboring any suspicion of her brother in connexion with the robbery, she and Sissy had held no confidence on the subject saving in that one interchange of looks when the unconscious father rested his gray head on his hand; but it was understood between them, and they both knew it. This other fear was so awful that it hovered about each of them like a ghostly shadow, neither daring to think of its being near herself, far less of its being near the other. And still the forced spirit which the whelp had severity, "that in your old age you have the face to" how I come to be favored with the attendance of plucked up throve with him. If Stephen Blackpool claim Mr. Bounderby for your son after your un- the present company, but I don't inquire. When wasn't the thief, let him show himself. Why didn't they're quite satisfied, perhaps they'll be so good as he? "Me unnatural!" cried poor old Mrs. Pegler. disperse; whether they're satisfied or not, perhaps Another night. Another day and night. No "Me inhuman! To my dear boy?" they'll be so good as disperse. I'm not bound to Stephen Blackpool? Where was the man, and why "Dear!" repeated Mr. Gradgrind. "Yes; dear deliver a lecture on my family affairs; I have not did he not come back? in his self-made prosperity, madam, I dare say. Not undertaken to do it, and I'm not going to do it. very dear, however, when you deserted him in his Therefore those who expect any explanation whatinfancy, and left him to the brutality of a drunken ever upon that branch of the subject will be disapgrandmother." "I deserted my Josiah," cried Mrs. Pegler, clasping her hands. "Lord forgive you, sir, for your wicked imaginations, and for your scandal against the memory of my poor mother, who died in my arms afore Josiah was born. May you repent of it, sir, and live to know better." She was so very earnest and injured that Mr. Gradgrind, shocked by the possibility which dawned upon him, said in a gentler tone, pointed—particularly Tom Gradgrind, and he can't Although Mr. Bounderby carried it off in these “Do you deny, then, madam, that you left your absurd. Detected as the bully of humanity who had son to be brought up in the gutter?" "And my CHAPTER XXXIV. THE Sunday was a bright Sunday in autumn, clear and cool, when, early in the morning, Sissy and Rachael met to walk in the country. As Coketown cast ashes not only on its own head but on the neighborhood's too-after the manner of those pious persons, who do penance for their own sins by putting other people into sackcloth-it was customary for those who now and then thirsted for a draught of pure air, which is not absolutely the most wicked among the vanities of life, to get a few miles away by the railroad, and then begin their walk or their lounge in the fields. Sissy and Rachael helped themselves out of the smoke by the usual means, and were put down at a station about midway between the town and Mr. Bounderby's retreat. built his windy reputation upon lies, and in his town. "Josiah in the gutter!" exclaimed Mrs. Pegler. "No such a thing, sir. Never! For shame on you! My dear boy knows, and will give you to know, that though he come of humble parents, he come of parents that loved him as dear as the best could, and never thought it hardship upon themselves to pinch a bit that he might write and cipher beautiful, and I've his books at home to show it! Ay, have I!" said Mrs. Pegler, with indignant pride. dear boy knows, and will give you to know, sir, that after his beloved father died when he was eight year old, his mother, too, could pinch a bit, as it was her duty and her pleasure and her pride to do it, to help him out in life, and put him 'prentice. And a steady Rachael and Sissy, leaving Mrs. Pegler to occupy lad he was, and a kind master he had to lend him a a bed at her son's for that night, walked together to hand, and well he worked his own way forward to be rich and thriving. And I'll give you to know, sirfor this my dear boy won't-that though his mother kept but a little village shop, he never forgot her, but pensioned me on thirty pound a year-more than I want, for I put by out of it-only making the condition that I was to keep down in my own part, and make no boasts about him, and not trouble him. And I never have, except with looking at him once a year, when he has never knowed it. And it's right," said poor old Mrs. Pegler, in affectionate championship, "that I should keep down in my own part, and I have no doubts that if I was here I should do a many unbefitting things, and I am well con- There was one dim unformed fear lingering about tented, and I can keep my pride in my Josiah to my-his sister's mind, to which she never gave utterance, self, and I can love for love's own sake. And I am which surrounded the graceless and ungrateful boy ashamed of you, sir," said Mrs. Pegler, lastly, " for with a dreadful mystery. The same dark possibility the gate of Stone Lodge, and there parted. Mr. As to the whelp; throughout this scene as on all Under their feet the grass was fresh; beautiful shadows of branches flickered upon it and speckeled it; hedgerows were luxuriant; everything was at peace. Engines at pits' mouths, and lean old horses that had worn the circle of their daily labor into the ground, were alike quiet; wheels had ceased for a short space to turn; and the great wheel of earth seemed to revolve without the shocks and noises of another time. They walked on across the fields and down the shady lanes, sometimes getting over a fragment of a fence so rotten that it dropped at a touch of the foot, sometimes passing near a wreck of bricks and beams overgrown with grass, marking the site of some deserted works. They followed paths and tracks, however slight. Mounds where the grass was rank and high, and where brambles, dock-weeds, and suchlike vegetation were confusedly heaped together, that country of the old pits hidden beneath such indithey always avoided; for dismal stories were told in cations. (To be concluded in our next.) P. D. ORVIS, Publisher, 130 Fulton street, New York. Monthly Parts, 18% cts. each. Yearly Subscription to either edition $2, in advance. Ten Copies for FIFTEEN DOLLARS. THE ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK JOURNAL. NO. 65. VOL. III.] SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1854. MARSHAL O'DONNELL, THE SPANISH MINISTER OF WAR. THE [PRICE 4 CENTS. the O'Donnells of Tyrconnell Bisbal against one of the Lieutenants of Napoleon. formed the burthen of many a local For the same exploit he received the title of Count lay and legend. In the reign of of Bisbal. He had become sufficiently Spanish to Elizabeth, the chief of the fa- have imbibed a passion for political intrigue; and mily played a distinguished part in the excited and troubled state of things which folin the troubled politics of the lowed the expulsion of the French, he became sustime; and when the civil troubles pected by the then dominant party. In 1811 he was broke out in England, his succes- imprisoned, by order of the Cortes; but, in 1814, his sor in the titles and estates of fortune was again in the ascendant. Ferdinand Tyrconnel attached himself with VII. named him Captain-General of Andalusia. In unswerving fidelity to the cause 1818 he was made Governor of Cadiz; and in the of the Stuarts. When the Bat- following year he was appointed to the command-intle of the Boyne finally destroyed chief of the corps prepared to be sent against the the hopes of James the Second South American Colonies. The state of domestic and his adherents, the O'Donnell politics, however, led to his being detained in Spain, of that day fled with his family where he was made Captain-General of La Mancha. to Austria, where they bore the While in this capacity, he declared for the Constitutitle of Counts of Tyrconnel. In tion, but without inspiring much confidence in the the military annals of Austria, the Constitutional party. In 1822 he gained some adname of O'Donnell appears with vantages over the French troops sent to Spain to high distinction. At the battle support the despotic principle, and this led to his of Placenza, in 1746, Count being named to the Army of Rescue that was to O'Donnell of Tyrconnell won his cover Madrid. Apparently, however, his spirit of grade as General. Ten years intrigue got the better of his discretion, for he had after he entered on the campaign entered into some negotiations with the opposite in Bohemia, and for his services party, and his own troops revolted, deposing him at the battle of Lowosik, he was from the command. Upon this, he endeavored to created a Field-Marshal Lieuten- make his escape into France; but was seized, and ant. At the battle of Kollin he put into prison at Villaviciosa. From this confinecommanded the cavalry; and he ment, however, he was speedily released by the soon afterwards made a French troops, and he contrived to reach France in General of Cavalry. In 1768 he safety. There he remained till the year 1834, when was appointed to the post of he returned to Spain. He died soon afterwards, Governor-General of Transyl- on hearing that one of his sons had been shot. vania; and he died, two years Leopold O'Donnell, Count of Lucena, Marshal of after, at Vienna. Another mem- Spain, and Minister of War in the Ministry of ber of the family, Francis Count Espartero, is the younger son of Joseph Henry O'Donnell, in 1809, filled the post O'Donnell, Count of Bisbal. He was born in 1809, of Minister of Finance in Austria; and is therefore 45 years of age. He is of prepossesand the present head of the Aus-sing appearance, of lofty stature, and with a mouth trian branch of the O'Donnells, and chin expressive of force of character; of fair comMaurice, Count O'Donnell of plexion, and the original Irish type remains. His Tyrconnel, is a Field-Marshal chief charac eristic is determination. Throughout Lieutenant in the Austrian ser-his chequered career he has never hesitated to risk vice. He is married to Christina, his life and property in the cause which he may daughter of the Prince de Ligne. have embraced for the time being. If his objects We have no record of the exact date when a have been personal, his conduct has been brave; branch of these Austrian O'Donnells went to Spain; and he has never been suspected of treachery. As but there also the family achieved high distinction. a military man he stands high, but his opportuniAbout the time when the Austrian Count O'Donnell ties of achieving a great reputation as a soldier was made Governor-General of Transylvania, the have been limited. It is more than probable that Spanish Count O'Donnell was fighting his way up in the period of anarchy impending in Spain his in the Spanish army. He had commenced his mili- energy and determination of character, with the tary career in the Guards. In 1795 he fought with claim he has as the originator of the last revosuccess and distinction against the French; and he lution, may make him the arbiter of his country's gained his rank of General for a battle he won at fortunes. was LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. you." BY J. F. SMITH, ESQ., Author of "Stanfield Hall," "Minnie Grey," etc. ELIZABETH, QUEEN REGNANT OF ENGLAND. (Continued.) It was on a bright morning in May, that the barge which was to convey the future sovereign of England to her new abode, drew up to the Tower stairs. This time it was not the Traitor's Gate, but the usual landing-place. The gates of the fortress were shut, to prevent the approach of the idle or the curious. The Lord Treasurer and the Lord Chamberlain were there. As Sir Henry Beddingfied conducted his charge to her seat, she cast her eyes thankfully around her. The recollection of her mother's death, and the bitter hours she had endured, made the Tower distasteful to her, independent of her own sufferings. As she stepped into the barge, the child who had so frequently brought her flowers, but who had not been permitted for some time to see her, ran to the water's edge, and exclaimed: "Farewell, lady! I shall bring you no more nosegays!" The captive was observed to dash aside a tear, and the barge, with the curtains of the awning drawn carefully down, moved from the Tower stairs. THO did not permit the barge once to stop until it reached Richmond where Mary Tudor then held her court, when it drew up at the landing-plase in the gardens. The palace-a plain but large pile of building was the same which Henry VIII. had bestowed, together with the manor of Richmond, upon his favorite, Cardinal Wolsey, when that magnificent prelate surrendered to his rapacious master his more splendid palace of Hampton Court, which he had reared at such great expense, and furnished with every luxury. As Elizabeth, surrounded by her escort, passed through the gardens, many of the courtiers-especially those inclined to the reformed churchregarded her with the deepest sympathy-for none could tell what might be her fate. The demeanor of the captive was firm, and even cheerful: pride would not let her betray the doubt and secret terror which must have agitated her spirits. Leaving the great entrance, they approached the palace by a private path, and reached the north tower, in which the royal apartments were situate. It was evident that arrangements had been made for their reception-for they found the captain of the guard at the bottom of the stairs, and a gentleman usher at the entrance. : ing humbly, "expects your grace! I will conduct your answer, my lord, and may withdraw it is not my custom to pronounce my pleasure twice!" Gardiner bit his lips with mortification, and, bowing lowly, to conceal his confusion, withdrew. "Our Lady of many Sorrows help me!" mur "God help me!" sighed Elizabeth, as she slowly ascended the staircase. "My life hangs on the balance !" Sir Henry Beddingfied and the chamberlain alone mured the queen, as soon as she was alone. "I accompanied her. am beset on all sides! First, Spain, Philip, the Pope-and now my ministers urge me to consent to the death of my rival! Would that rival,” she added, sternly, were any but my sister!" Before giving the signal which was to admit the captive to her presence, the speaker closed the little ebony shrine which contained the portrait of her mother—but not till she had pressed it to her lips. "Ne nos inducas in tentationem!" she said; and, seating herself upon a chair of state, close to the In a tapestried chamber, hung with arras from the looms of Beauvais, was seated Mary Tudor. There was an air of determination on her harsh features, which argued unfavorably for her successor A missal, richly illuminated by the cunning hand of some Italian painter, together with a cross and portrait of Catherine of Arragon, were upon the table. The latter was inclosed in a sort of ebony and silver shrine, such as the Catholics use to contain the relics of the saints. The gloomy queen was clothed in a dark mulberry colored velvet dress, edged with miniver, and richly ornamented with pearls. Upon her head was one of those small peaked caps, such as we find in all her portraits. It was evident she had been praying, and from prayer had fallen into a deep reverie. A gentle knock was heard at the door, but Mary did not seem to hear it till it had been twice repeated. "Enter!" she said in her usual brief tone. The curtain over the door was drawn aside, and Gardiner made his appearance. Mary received him rather coldly. "Madame," said the prelate, "the prisoner has arrived." “Our sister, my lord-I presume you mean the Lady Elizabeth? 'Tis well! Give orders to the captain of our guard to admit her grace to the presence when he shall hear the strike of the bell." The chancellor bowed. From his manner it was evident that he wished to urge something, but was doubtful how his advice would be received; for, since his unconstitutional attempt to execute the princess without the form of a trial-stretch of authority which, with all his tyranny, Henry VIII. himself would have paused at-he had evidently lost ground, both in the favor and confidence of his royal mistress. 66 Speak!" she said, perceiving his embarrassment, "what would you request?" Nothing, madame.” "It is not for a subject, madam, to dictate to the choice of his sovereign!" was the reply of the astute churchman. "I shall receive the Lady Elizabeth," said Mary Tudor, "according to my original intention!" "Madam! the council?" "Are my subjects!" exclaimed the daughter of Henry VIII., striking her hand upon the table; "I table, she struck the bell. When Elizabeth entered, she approached the spot where her sister was seated, and, bending the knee, began a passionate protestation of her innocence and loyalty, ending in a well-rounded period, in which she expressed her affection for her sister, and the joy she felt at being once more admitted into her presence. Mary listened to her with the impassibility of a statue-there was no sign of relenting in her features. "Words!" she said, at last-"mere words! which bitter experience teaches us are used to conceal, more frequently than to express our thoughts! I am tired of them!" "Alas! how can I defeat the malice of mine enemies?" exclaimed Elizabeth, wringing her hands with real or well-acted sorrow," and prove my love to your majesty ?" 'Aye," continued the queen; "the councillors of my throne urge me to bring you to trial and execution. But I have paused. The public voice has accused you of treason- -as yet I have not listened to it-one way will end my doubts, and cast a seal of oblivion over the past. Accept as a husband Philibert of Savoy, a prince of unblemished honor, who is a suitor for your hand. Your dower shall be worthy of the sister of a queen! One word," added Mary, "of assent, and I restore you to my favor and my love!" "Alas, gracious madam!" "It has done so already!" observed the princess. It was terrible to see the change which overspread the countenance of Mary Tudor, at this indiscreet reply of her sister. Her brow knitted, and her eye flashed like her father's. "Has it, minion!" she exclaimed. But thou dost forget that between it and thee the headsman stands, grasping the blood-stained axe-the fitting doom of traitors! Dost think I cannot read thy pretended love and loyalty? Hollow wordsmasking deceit and falsehood! I have chosen for thee a husband worthy the daughter of a king; "The queen," said the last-named officer, bow- have no dictation to receive from them! You have and, doubly so, of the offspring of Anne Boleyn !" |