ating throat, with
a proud rebellious heart, full of love for one she felt she ought not
to love, and full of hate for another that she knew she ought to love.
She was absent in spite of herself, and did all manner of queer things
that people do, who, for a time, take leave of absence of
themselves--answering yes, for no--and no, for yes--attempting to bite
a piece out of her little porcelain cup-plate, instead of the cook's
snowy cake; pouring her guardian's cup up with cream instead of
coffee, and sweetening it with salt instead of sugar. Many other
little pleasantries of like nature did she perform, very much to the
amusement of her guardian and the hated Ferdinand. The latter made
himself exceeding merry at her expense, at the same time showing her
every attention and gallantry that he, finished courtier, could
devise. Isoleth felt at length completely worried and tired to death,
as though she could not for one moment longer, endure the torture of
her heart's conflicting emotion.

"You look pale and tired, my beloved child," said her guardian,
tenderly taking her little cold, white hand within his. All your
beautiful color is gone. I fear that after all your walk, or the
excitement, has been too much for you. You had best retire for the
night. Shall I ring for Dame Hildreth, or some of your maidens?"

"No, dear uncle, with your permission, I will seek those I wish,"
answered Isoleth, only too glad to escape from the hated presence into
the calm stillness of her own room.

She found the good little dame awaiting her; and to her compassionate
ear she poured forth the sorrow and joy of her young heart. The
kind-hearted little woman sympathized cordially with her precious
foster-child, wishing over and over again that some benevolent fairy
would change the beautiful stranger cousin with the hateful old Prince
Ferdinand--she had to acknowledge that he did _look_ old--until after
the happy wedding was over. "And then how blank and black the prince
would look, and how astonished we all would be to find you had married
the handsome young man instead of the grumpy old one."

"Now leave me, good nurse, I would be alone. I will entreat my dear
uncle on the morrow to release me from this dreaded alliance. He
never yet refused a request of mine."

Isoleth quieted herself in the belief that her beloved guardian would
certainly grant her petition as soon as she made it known to him. In
child-like confidence, therefore, she s