as been made acquainted
with the flattering proposal of His Serene Highness relative to a union
between himself (the Champion) and her Serene Highness the Princess
Helen of Cleves. The Champion accepts with pleasure that polite
invitation, and will have the honor of waiting upon the Prince and
Princess of Cleves about half an hour after the receipt of this letter."

"Tol lol de rol, girl," shouted the Prince with heartfelt joy. (Have you
not remarked, dear friend, how often in novel-books, and on the stage,
joy is announced by the above burst of insensate monosyllables?) "Tol
lol de rol. Don thy best kirtle, child; thy husband will be here anon."
And Helen retired to arrange her toilet for this awful event in the life
of a young woman. When she returned, attired to welcome her defender,
her young cheek was as pale as the white satin slip and orange sprigs
she wore.

She was scarce seated on the dais by her father's side, when a huge
flourish of trumpets from without proclaimed the arrival of THE
CHAMPION. Helen felt quite sick: a draught of ether was necessary to
restore her tranquillity.

The great door was flung open. He entered,--the same tall warrior, slim,
and beautiful, blazing in shining steel. He approached the Prince's
throne, supported on each side by a friend likewise in armor. He knelt
gracefully on one knee.

"I come," said he in a voice trembling with emotion, "to claim, as per
advertisement, the hand of the lovely Lady Helen." And he held out a
copy of the Allgemeine Zeitung as he spoke.

"Art thou noble, Sir Knight?" asked the Prince of Cleves.

"As noble as yourself," answered the kneeling steel.

"Who answers for thee?"

"I, Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, his father!" said the knight on the
right hand, lifting up his visor.

"And I--Ludwig, Count of Hombourg, his godfather!" said the knight on
the left, doing likewise.

The kneeling knight lifted up his visor now, and looked on Helen.

"I KNEW IT WAS," said she, and fainted as she saw Otto the Archer.

But she was soon brought to, gentles, as I have small need to tell ye.
In a very few days after, a great marriage took place at Cleves under
the patronage of Saint Bugo, Saint Buffo, and Saint Bendigo. After the
marriage ceremony, the happiest and handsomest pair in the world drove
off in a chaise-and-four, to pass the honeymoon at Kissingen. The Lady
Theodora, whom we left locked up in her convent a long while since, was
prevailed upon to c