my own hands. My son, my poor son! you have been the victim of the
foulest witchcraft and sorcery of your enemies."

"Enemies abroad! enemies at home!" cried Charles, turning himself
uneasily in his chair. "Did I not say so, madam?"

"But the vile sorcerer has been discovered by the blessed intervention
of the saints," continued Catherine; "and let him be once seized,
tried, and executed for his abominable crime, your torments, my son,
will cease for ever. You will live to be well, strong, happy."

"Happy!" echoed the young King with bitterness; "happy! no, there the
sorcery has gone too far for remedy." He then added after a pause,
"And what is this plot? who is this sorcerer of whom you speak?"

"Trouble not yourself with these details, my son; they are but of
minor import," replied Catherine. "You are weak and exhausted. The
horrid tale would too much move your mind. Leave every thing in my
hands, and I will rid you of your enemies."

"No, no. There has been enough of ill," resumed her son. "That he
should be left in peace is all the miserable King now needs."

"But your life, my son. The safety of the realm depends upon the
extermination of the works of the powers of darkness. Would you, a
Catholic Prince, allow the evil-doer of the works of Satan to roam
about at will, and injure others as he would have destroyed his king?"
pursued the Queen-mother.

"Well, we will speak more of this at another opportunity. Leave me
now, madam, for I am very weak both in mind and body; and I thank you
for your zeal and care."

"My son, I cannot leave you," persisted Catherine, "until you shall
have signed this paper." She produced from the species of reticule
suspended at her side a parchment already covered with writing. "It
confers upon me full power to treat in this affair, and bring the
offender to condign punishment. You shall have no trouble in this
matter; and through your mother's care, your enemies shall be purged
from the earth, and you yourself once more free, and strong and able
shortly to resume the helm of state, to mount your horse, to cheer on
your hounds. Come, my son, sign this paper."

"Leave me--leave me in peace," again answered Charles. "I am sick at
heart, and I would do no ill even to my bitterest enemy, be he only an
obscure sorcerer, who has combined with the prince of darkness himself
to work my death."

"My son--it cannot be," said Catherine, perseveringly--for she was
aware that by persisti