wouldst strip the ambition of love."

"I would I knew what were best," said Otho, irresolutely. "My
brother--ha, shall he for ever excel me?--But Leoline, how will she
grieve--she who left him for me!"

"Was that thy fault?" said the Templar, gaily. "It may many times
chance to thee again to be preferred to another. Troth, it is a sin
under which the conscience may walk lightly enough. But sleep on it,
Otho; my eyes grow heavy."

The next day Otho sought Leoline, and proposed to her that their
wedding should precede his parting; but so embarrassed was he, so
divided between two wishes, that Leoline, offended, hurt, stung by his
coldness, refused the proposal at once. She left him lest he should
see her weep, and then--then she repented even of her just pride.

But Otho, striving to appease his conscience with the belief that hers
now was the sole fault, busied himself in preparations for his
departure. Anxious to outshine his brother, he departed not as
Warbeck, alone and unattended, but levying all the horse, men, and
money that his domain of Sternfels--which he had not yet
tenanted--would afford, he repaired to Frankfort at the head of a
glittering troop.

The Templar, affecting a relapse, tarried behind, and promised to join
him at that Constantinople of which he had so loudly boasted.
Meanwhile he devoted his whole powers of pleasing to console the
unhappy orphan. The force of her simple love was, however, stronger
than all his arts. In vain he insinuated doubts of Otho; she refused
to hear them: in vain he poured with the softest accents into her ear
the witchery of flattery and song: she turned heedlessly away; and only
pained by the courtesies that had so little resemblance to Otho, she
shut herself up in her chamber, and pined in solitude for her forsaken.

The Templar now resolved to attempt darker arts to obtain power over
her, when, fortunately, he was summoned suddenly away by a mission from
the Grand Master, of so high import that it could not be resisted by a
passion stronger in his breast than love--the passion of ambition. He
left the castle to its solitude; and Otho peopling it no more with his
gay companions, no solitude could be more unfrequently disturbed.

Meanwhile, though, ever and anon, the fame of Warbeck reached their
ears, it came unaccompanied with that of Otho,--of him they had no
tidings: and thus the love of the tender orphan was kept alive by the
perpetual restlessness o