at least, has never told it."

"Enough," said Warbeck; "release your hold."

"Stay," said Otho, his suspicions returning; "stay--yet one word; dost
thou seek my father? He ever honoured thee more than me: wilt thou own
to him thy love, and insist on thy right of birth? By my soul and my
hope of heaven, do it, and one of us two must fall!"

"Poor boy!" answered Warbeck, bitterly; "how little thou canst read the
heart of one who loves truly! Thinkest thou I would wed her if she
loved thee? Thinkest thou I could, even to be blessed myself, give her
one moment's pain? Out on the thought--away!"

"Then wilt not thou seek our father?" said Otho, abashed.

"Our father!--has our father the keeping of Leoline's affection?"
answered Warbeck; and shaking off his brother's grasp, he sought the
way to the castle.

As he entered the hall he heard the voice of Leoline; she was singing
to the old chief one of the simple ballads of the time, that the
warrior and the hunter loved to hear. He paused lest he should break
the spell (a spell stronger than a sorcerer's to him), and gazing upon
Leoline's beautiful form, his heart sank within him. His brother and
himself had each that day, as they sat in the gardens, given her a
flower; his flower was the fresher and the rarer; his he saw not, but
she wore his brother's in her bosom!

The chief, lulled by the music and wearied with the toils of the chase,
sank into sleep as the song ended, and Warbeck, coming forward,
motioned to Leoline to follow him. He passed into a retired and
solitary walk, and when they were a little distance from the castle,
Warbeck turned round, and taking Leoline's hand, gently said:

"Let us rest here for one moment, dearest cousin; I have much on my
heart to say to thee."

"And what is there," answered Leoline, as they sat on a mossy bank,
with the broad Rhine glancing below, "what is there that my kind
Warbeck would ask of me? Ah! would it might be some favour, something
in poor Leoline's power to grant; for ever from my birth you have been
to me most tender, most kind. Yon, I have often heard them say, taught
my first steps to walk; you formed my infant lips into language, and,
in after years, when my wild cousin was far away in the forests at the
chase, you would brave his gay jest and remain at home, lest Leoline
should be weary in the solitude. Ah, would I could repay you!"

Warbeck turned away his cheek; his heart was very full, and it wa