ure husband; but she would rather have
been wooed to be won. The agonies of doubt and suspense, the pangs of
jealousy and apprehension, would have been bliss compared to the dull
monotony of the "betrothed." The lazy current would have sparkled if a
few pebbles had been cast into the stream. Her sensitive spirit,
likewise, shrank from contact with this fiery and impetuous youth; her
heart yearned for some deep and hallowed affection. Strongly imbued
with the witcheries of romance, she would rather have been sought by
blandishments than blows, which, from his known prowess in the latter
accomplishment, the youthful aspirant had no necessity to detail in
the ears of his mistress. She liked not the coarse blunt manner of her
gallant, nor the hard gripe and iron tramp for which he was
sufficiently distinguished.

Yet was Oliver Chadwyck reckoned the best-looking cavalier in the
neighbourhood, and, moreover, an adherent to the "Red Rose," under
whose banner he had fought, and, even when very young, had gained
distinction for his bravery--no mean recommendation, truly, in those
days, when courage was reckoned a sure passport to a lady's favour,
the which, it might seem, whoever held out longest and stuck the
hardest was sure to win.

One evening, about the time of the miller's adventure in the Fairies'
Chapel, Eleanor was looking through her casement listlessly, perhaps
unconsciously. She sighed for occupation. The glorious hues of sunset
were gone; the moon was rising, and she watched its course from the
horizon of long dark hills up to the bare boughs of the sycamores by
the banks of the little stream below. Again she sighed, and so heavily
that it seemed to be re-echoed from the walls of her chamber. She
almost expected the grim panels to start aside as she looked round,
half-wishing, half-afraid that she might discover the intruder.

Disappointed, she turned again to the casement, through which the
moonbeams, now partially intercepted by the branches, lay in chequered
light and darkness on the floor.

"I thought thou wert here. Alas! I am unhappy, and I know not why."
While she spoke a tear trembled on her dark eyelashes, and as the
moonlight shone upon it, the reflection glanced back to the eye-ball,
and a radiant form apparently glided through the chamber. But the
spectre vanished as the eyelid passed over, and swept away the
illusion. She leaned her glowing cheek upon a hand white and
exquisitely formed as the pur