became ice-cold; he laid
hold of the handle of the door, and was on the point of sallying forth
to forbid the promise of a fixed price being given upon any pretext.

"Why are you in such haste?" he heard the man of the cavern say. "Well,
for one kiss only, and I will persuade your father to send for the
priest on the spot, to perform the holy ceremony." He bent his head
towards the offended, blushing girl. Albert saw every thing swimming
before his eyes, and was again on the point of bursting from his place
of concealment, but the determined reply of his lady love checked him
from taking the rash step. She beheld the man with a forbidding look.
"It is impossible your Grace can be in earnest," she said; "otherwise
you now see me for the last time."

"If you knew how much this scornful air becomes you," he answered, with
unaltered kindness, "you would never cease to be in anger. At any rate
I admire your fidelity; for when the heart is deeply engaged with one
object, none other need hope for such a favour. But on your marriage
day I will demand the favour, with the permission of your bridegroom,
and then we'll see who is right."

"That you may do," said Bertha, smiling, whilst she withdrew her hand
from his, and led the way with the light in her hand; "but you had
better prepare yourself for a refusal, for he is not fond of trifling
on this point."

"He is uncommonly jealous," replied the knight, as they proceeded up
stairs. "I could tell you something upon that subject, which took place
between him and me; but I promised silence----"

The sound of their voices died away gradually, and at last became
indistinct to Albert's ear. He breathed freely again. He listened and
remained in his position until he satisfied himself thoroughly that no
one was on the stairs or in the passages, and, taking advantage of the
opportunity, slipped up into his own room much quicker than he had
descended from it. The last words of Bertha and the exile still
resounded in his ears. He blushed to think of his unfounded jealousy,
which had again tormented him this night. Bertha had, unknown to
herself, given him evident proofs of the purity of her heart and
faithful attachment to him; and it was only when he laid his head on
his pillow and fell to sleep, that his mind was eased of the pain of
having unjustly suspected her.

When he left his room the next morning at seven o'clock, the hour which
the family generally assembled at breakfast,