for is, that we start as early as possible. Holy Virgin shield us on our way to Nottingham! What that old gypsey said hangs heavily on my mind; would I had given her of my money.'

The wounded knight was now, under Constance's directions, raised in the arms of four of the brawniest of the train, and conveyed to her litter; she searched in her chest, which was borne in the rear by a sturdy mule, applied a salve to his wound with care and attention, and during all the night rode on a horse by his side, of fering up prayers for his recovery, and moistening his parched lips with a medicine when he gave his sufferings vent in a groan. Thus did they journey through the glades of the forest, occasionally joined by the fugitives who had slunk off at the adventure of the Hollow Oak, and who now slunk quietly back again, to redeem their character for courage. Ere the sun rode high, they were safe within the walls of Nottingham.

While Constance was occupied in providing the unfortunate knight with a bed in the most quiet and secluded nook in the house where her father lodged, the old merchant was settling his accounts with the master of the mansion, a trader of great fame and wealth, and so superior in both to all his competitors in the town, that he was know by the name of Geoffrey of Nottingham.

The portly personage who bore this title, welcomed Leonard heartily to his house, shook him by the hand as the best and warmest of his old friends, and hoped he would honour his roof by stopping under it a month or two. Leonard returned him thanks as was but due, for the length and heartiness of his invitation, but said he did not purpose troubling his good friend by so long a stay as he had mentioned.

I hope you will see cause to change your mind,' replied the master of the house, as he prepared to accede to

Leonard's wish to ascertain in what relation they stood to each other in money matters.

Before, however, he consulted his huge book of accounts, kept partly in Latin, and partly in significant hieroglyphics, he directed one of the servants to summon his young master -'My son,' he said to Leonard, while they awaited the arrival of the youngster, ' is a perfect treasure to me in my business; never knew a lad of his age who had so sharp an eye to trade; you cannot choose but wonder at his acuteness and activity.'

The youth stepped modestly into the room ere the parent had concluded his panegyric, and doffing his bonnet with a graceful air, requested to know his father's commands.

'You are to examine the books, Edward,' said old Geoffrey, 'and draw up an account how matters stand between Master Leonard Lorimer and our firm; -I call it our firm,' he continued, turning to Leonard, 'because, though I am in name at the head of the business, yet Edward in fact conducts most of it, and with far greater TS foresight and reckoning than I, growing old as I am, can do. How was it, Edward, you were not here when Master Leonard arrived? it is very unusual for you to be absent from the counting-house at any time.'

'I crave your pardon,' said the youth with a blush: 'I was spurring Lord Roland St. Aymer's war-horse up the castle rock-he had wagered

that I dared not do it.'

Leonard Lorimer looked surprised at the somewhat unsuitable occupation which the reputed sober mercantile youth had assigned to himself, and Geoffrey, with a laugh that did not sound very hearty, informed him that there must be some mistake, which was not worth while to inquire into. The words were scarce out of his mouth, when Edward, now busily occupied in examining the books, requested from his father an explanation

of one of the mysterious hieroglyphics which he found there.

Why, Ned, that's a gross of Sheffield whittles,' said the merchant of Nottingham-surely thou must know that, since thou settest every thing down thyself.'

Do not laugh at me, father,' replied Edward, 'I will labour to be more diligent in future.'

Thou canst not be more diligent than thou art, boy,' said the father, to the evident surprise of the son, who looked at him for a moment in amazement.

What can be the meaning of this game at cross-purposes, I wonder?" thought Leonard, who had watched

the scene with attention. The son

is evidently a lively youngster, not over attentive to business-but his father, for some purpose or other, wishes me to believe him a miracle of application and industry.

By this time the accounts had been drawn up, and handed by Edward to his father, who looked over them, and without saying a word, made a few corrections, and then informed his son that he might retire.

'An inestimable youth,' he began again, almost before Edward could be out of hearing, and a perfect treasure to me in my business; so modest too-you saw how distressed he was when I spoke of his merits. Ah, Master Leonard, how happy should I be were I to see that boy fairly married to your excellent daughter.'

Leonard now began to see what his friend had been driving at all the morning; the importance of the subject so suddenly forced upon his attention, quite turned his head upside down-he could only stammer outBut the young people-' and there

he stuck fast.

'Ay, the young people,' said Geoffrey, they are dying I know for the match; my poor son, he is over head and ears in love, and I have a pretty good guess whose limning it is that

he always wears in his bosom. The last time you were here-but it were endless to tell you all the passages of love I have observed. Poor youth, I felt just the same when I sighed after his mother.'

At this moment, the striking of the cook's knife upon the dresser, the well-known dinner-signal of ancient times, came in good time to interrupta conversation which somewhat flagged, and to summon all the inmates of the house to the jovial board.

Edward did not make his appearance till somewhat late, and then his face was flushed with exercise. Leonard, who gave an attentive eye to his behaviour, observed with satisfaction that he had somewhat of the awkwardness, inattention, and disposition to reverie, which he remembered as the characteristics of his own courting days, and that he certainly paid a marked attention to Constancewhich, might, however, be owing to the fact that she was the only lady, save his mother, at table.

When dinner was finished, Master Leonard avowed his intention of going to the priests of St. Mary's, to discharge the vows he had lately made on an occasion of great danger;' and Constance, who had related, merely with the omission of her own act of courage, the story of the discovery of the wounded knight, whose wounds she said were going on much more favourably than she could ever have expected, retired to tend them still further, and was shut up during the whole afternoon in the distant, secluded room.

Ere a fortnight had rolled over the heads of the inmates of the house of Geoffrey of Nottingham, strange changes had been made in their hearts. The wounded knight was already so far recovered as to be able to walk about his room and so tenderly and so warmly had he expressed his gratitude to his fair preserver, that-she almost feared that both he and herself were beginning to entertain a deeper feeling.

Meanwhile, Geoffrey had succeeded in persuading old Leonard Lorimer that their children were dying for one another, although they were both so shamefaced, as to be unable to reveal it-and at length won him over to break the ice, and render them both happy.

Constance was startled when her father, at the conclusion of an evening walk which had led them to the base of the castle rock of Notting. ham, demanded with a half smile, whether her heart were as free now as it had heretofore been. A deep blush overspread her features, as she endeavoured to laugh off the question, but it was in vain, her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

'I see, it is as I thought, my child,' said Leonard; 'do not weep, I have no wish but for thy happiness. I am growing old and feeble, and it will suit me well to give up business, which is becoming too hard and tiresome for me-and resign it into the hands of a young and active son-inlaw.'

Constance's dark eyes were raised in surprise, 'whom do you mean, father?' she enquired.

Who is it that I can mean?" said Lorimer, but Edward, the son of my old friend Geoffrey, of Nottingham. The poor youth is dying for love of

thee.'

'For love of me! you are mistaken,' said Constance, he has never breathed a syllable-showed a single sign of such a thing, and-forgive me, father, Edward is a good youth, and a brave and high-spirited onebut he is not-' she paused.

the wounded knight ?-Ah, girl, the knight-thou blushest. Constance, Constance, how couldst thou be so foolish as to fix thy love above thy station? I thought thou wast wiser, Constance.'

Leonard Lorimer's displeasure was rather augmented than increased, when he found that the stranger knight had not yet revealed his name to his daughter, nor made any formal declaration of love; he had, in fact, merely told her that he had been attacked and left for dead by robbers. The walk home was cheerless, neither spoke after these disclosures, and Constance muttering something about a head-ache, hurried immediately to bed.

When Geoffrey of Nottingham was informed by Lorimer of these unexpected discoveries, the former found the old merchant, who after the first surprise had had time to reflect on the matter, and tenderly loved his daughter, disposed to give way to her love, and allow her to be happy after her own fashion. Geoffrey, however, did not exactly relish this, and begged an exact detail of all the particulars respecting the stranger knight. His request was complied with, and he shook his head most oracularly at the conclusion.

The prophecy of that old gypsey woman,' he said, ' should not be disregarded. She foretold that you should meet with one in the forest that should sadden your heart for ever. Who did you meet with but this said wounded knight? you should be on your guard against him. It would make your heart leap to your mouth, Master Leonard, were I to tell you half the strange stories that I have heard tell of Sherwood Forest. They say the devil himself is often to be found there, in the shape of a jolly archer-a noble knight, or the like, to trap the unwary into mortal sin. Heaven forgive us, but someguard against temptation. It is not my own interest that leads me to counsel you, Master Leonard, but this counsel I do give, that you marry your daughter to Edward as fast as possible-care not for what she says just now-she is a mere girl that does not know her own good, and a better husband there cannot be in the wide world, than, I am sure, Edward would make her. But she says he loves her not,' said Lorimer.

'I should like to see him darepshaw! he loves her as the roebuck loves the forest. Trust me, Master Leonard, if you refuse him her, it will break the poor lad's heart.'

In dragging superstition into the affair, Geoffrey had touched the most powerful chord in Lorimer's breast. Naturally kind-hearted and naturally weak, he would most probably have yielded to the solicitations of his daughter, after a short time, but now, when it was darkly insinuated, that by so doing he would only be giving her to the power of some mysterious evil, he had a sufficient and an influential motive, to screw his courage to the stickingplace of refusing to comply with her wishes.

• You have not come to me so early as you are wont,' said the wounded knight next day to his fair attendant. And how? Are you in tears, -in tears, my dear Constance. I fear I must not ask you the cause.'

Her tears burst forth faster-she gave him no answer.

Nay, you must allow me to ask what is the occasion of this-you must indeed; I owe you a heavy debt of gratitude, more than I can ever repay, though I would willingly shed my heart's blood for you. Can I remove your sorrows? can I aleviate them? Oh! speak, my dear Constance-you make me miserable by this silent suffering.'

He could not win her secret from her. She dried her tears and busied

herself in tending his wound, but her hand trembled as she fixed anew the bandages-and the instant her task was concluded, she left him; but not before he had exacted her promise to return at the usual time on the morrow.

She did return; and she was calmer that day, although the tear occasionally started into her dark bright eye. When she had finished the bandaging of the wound, she was about to retire, but the knight dropped on his knees at her feet. Costance,' he said, 'I know your secret. I overheard your father and his friend. She fell into a chair and almost fainted. Oh, forgive me, forgive me, thou angel,' he hastily exclaimed, if I have unwittingly pained that breast, that is dearer a thousand times to me than mine own. And, Constance, hear my secret, since I know thine. I love thee, as never mortal man ever loved mortal maiden before. I have loved thee ever since I saw thee, and every day my love has grown stronger and stronger. Thou mayst never perchance be mine, but here before heaven and before thee, solemnly do I pledge myself to be thine for ever. Oh Constance !'

'We can never, never be each others,' was her reply, slowly gasped out, and followed by a shower of tears.

'Believe it not believe it not, greybeards and plodding merchants, (pardon me, Constance, for a moment I forgot he was thy father) they-they may say so; but is there no way of disappointing their cold and cruel tyranny ? - Constance, I can sit my horse, this night, this very night, we may fly from Nottingham, and when next we return we will be man and wife.'

Constance shook violently-a step was heard approaching up the stairs. The knight rose from his knees, and after imprinting a burning kiss on her lips and whispering, Thus, thus I seal our contract, thou art my affianced bride!' he took his seat on the chair, and in an instaut every trace of emotion had vanished from his countenance. The door opened and Geoffrey of Nottingham made his entrance.

He bowed to the knight, who was seated in a dark corner of the room and who haughtily returned his salute. 'I crave your pardon sirin sooth I forget your name,' he began. Proceed, sir, if it please you, without troubling yourself for it,' replied the knight. I marvel how you can have forgotten it, since, methinks, you never heard it before.' 'You speak, sooth,' returned Geoffrey, somewhat sharply, and let me say, you are the first nameless guest I ever had, for a fortnight, in my house-or, I may add, that I ever will."

6

That, I presume,' said the knight, is intended for an insult to my benefactress here, who first introduced me within your walls. Would she allow me, you would find me ready enough to resent it for her.'

'You are completely cured then,' said Geoffrey, with a sneer; ' I am glad to hear it, for I called upon you to enquire if you could vacate your room for some friends that we expect. You will, perhaps, condescend to inform me whenabouts we shall be deprived of your company ?"

As fast as I can conveniently walk,' said the knight, rising; 'and now, pray tell me, Seignior Merchant, what charges you make for my bed, board, and lodging?'

Charges! I disdain to make any, said Geoffrey; 'andpermit me to say, Sir Knight, whoever you are, that if you suppose me capable of such a thing, you know little of the heart and honour of an English merchant!' Nevertheless, Seignior English merchant' said the knight, 'I shall

make bold to leave a little money behind me in recompence of your trouble and expenses; and let me tell you, that if you think I would willingly lie under an obligation to a begrudging churl, thou knowest little of the feelings of an English knight.'

So saying, he rose, and flinging a purse of gold on the ground stalked out of the door-way. • Farewell, Sir Insolence, for that I think must be thy name,' said Geoffrey; 'and may such a proud coxcomb as thou art never darken my doors again. This gold shall to the priests of St. Mary's, to pray foralittle more common sense and good old English feeling into thy noddle. I am going down stairs, Constance; will it please you to accept of mine arm?"

She took it; and as they descended the stairs, the old man expatiated tenderly on the virtues of his son. It was all in vain. That kiss had indeed sealed Constance as the affianced bride of the Unknown.

The evening of the next day, she took a solitary walk in the direction of the castle-rock. On a sudden, an armed knight with his vizor down, sprung from his noble war-horse immediately before her. She could not see his face, but that manly form sufficiently told her who it was. "Constance!' he said, 'I come to claim thee as my intended bride!' He seized her by the hand.

Just as he was about to fling her on the saddle of a milk-white steed, which stood neighing and pawing by the side of the war-horse, a youth who had for some time, unperceived, followed the footsteps of Constance, presented himself before the two lovers. It was Edward. Stop, Sir Knight!' he exclaimed, 'ere you accomplish your purpose, you have to sweep me from your path,

'Oh, stay thine arm, Edward!' said Constance, flinging herself between them, and if you wish your