lize himself from among
other men. That, in fact, he was unknown in the annals of fame, as well
as the probability that he had been slain in some of the earlier
skirmishes of the war. This, if it had happened, caused her some pain to
think upon; not but such events were looked upon with almost
indifference by females, save in such cases where their affections were
engaged, as on this occasion. But the event was softened by the fact
that men were continually falling by the hand of man in such encounters,
but at the same time it was considered an honourable and praiseworthy
death for a soldier. He was wounded, but not with the anguish we now
hear of; for the friends were consoled by the reflection that the
deceased warrior died covered with glory.

Bertha, however, was young, and as yet she knew not the cause of her
absent knight's silence, or why he had not been heard of among the most
forward in the battle.

"Heaven's will be done," she exclaimed; "what can I do? I must submit to
my father's behests; but my future life will be one of misery and
sorrow."

She wept to think of the past, and to dream of the future; both alike
were sorrowful to think upon--no comfort in the past and no joy in the
future.

Thus she wept and sorrowed on the night of the first tournament; there
was to be a second, and that was to be the grand one, where her intended
bridegroom was to show himself off in her eyes, and take his part in the
sport.

* * * * *

Bertha sat late--she sat sorrowing by the light of the lamps and the
flickering flame of the fire, as it rose and fell on the hearth and
threw dancing shadows on the walls.

"Oh, why, Arthur Home, should you thus be absent? Absent, too, at such a
time when you are more needed than ever. Alas, alas! you may no longer
be in the land of the living. Your family is great and your name
known--your own has been spoken with commendation from the lips of your
friend; what more of fame do you need? but I am speaking without
purpose. Heaven have mercy on me."

As she spoke she looked up and saw one of her women in waiting standing
by.

"Well, what would you?"--"My lady, there is one who would speak with
you," said the hand-maiden.

"With me?"--"Yes, my lady; he named you the Lady Bertha de Cauci."

"Who and what is he?" she inquired, with something like trepidation, of
the maiden.--"I know not, my lady."

"But gave he not some token by which I might know