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THE French wit and philosopher, Rochefoucault, among the many sparkling and brilliant maxims which he has given to the world, has never uttered a more decided truth, or put it so pointedly, as when he tells us, that no disguise can long conceal where love is, or feign where it is not. Hugo D'Lisle, believing himself bound by duty to hide from every one the deep feelings of his heart, had indeed succeeded in producing in his own mind an unnatural and artificial calm, resembling that of the far Indian seas, which the next moment the wind may break, and arouse to life and energy. Three days had fleeted by since the maid of honour had repulsed the handsome Marquis di Paleotti, who had since absented himself from court, and affected to be employed on important business regarding the embarkation of the troops for the English expedition-much to the relief of Lucy Oakwood, who was not unconscious now, that she had paid him more attention, and encouraged his pretensions more than she had ever intended. Those three days, while they had brought calm and peace to her, had been spent in silence and in sorrow by Hugo D'Lisle. He had seen the parting at the fountain, but at such a distance as not to perceive its details, and had imagined that the thoughts of Lucy Oakwood, as she stood in reverie beside the glancing spray, were with the gay and gallant Italian. Little did he think that for him alone beat that true woman's heart-that he was the idol of her secret thoughts and woodland musings.

It was evening; the shades of the dull October day were gathering over the landscape; the wild gusts of the wind, while it whirled the fallen leaves mockingly into the air, shook many a casement old in the Hague; and, down

B

SPENSER.

SHAKSPEARE.

the drear, bleak Scheveling coast, the white waves raged and foamed, and many a merchant's heart began to quake for the safety of the gallant ships which bore the wealth of the Indies to the low lands of Holland. Doubt and anxiety sat on the faces of the courtiers; the soldiers were occupied with pressing business; the Prince in his councilchamber, though he uttered those clear, shrewd advices for which he was famous, looked careworn, and on his high forehead were lines of thought and care, for on the morrow was he to leave his own country, which he had so long defended with his strong right arm, and powerful brain, to rescue the fair realm of England from the tyranny of an incapable king, and to add to his other honours-the crown of Britain.

In one of the private apartments of the Princess of Orange, standing in the deep recess of the window, stood Hugo D'Lisle and Lucy Oakwood. Perchance it was because that he could no longer bear the suspense, and that he was resolved to know the worst and bear it, but Hugo had sought the Palace in the Wood, determined to hear from Lucy's lips of the suit of Di Paleotti. And now alone in the dimly-lighted chamber stood the lovers, between whom rose the barrier formed by Pride and Fear.

For a time neither spoke; and as the shades of the night deepened, the quaint, rich, heavy, massive furniture of the apartment faded into indistinctness, and was lost in the general gloom; and while the folds of the rare old tapestry waved and rustled in the wind, how those two hearts waved and moved in secret silence, both fearing, as it seemed, to break the spell which bound them there!

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days, and in the meantime." He stopped, as if uncertain how to proceed. "And in the meantime," replied Lucy Oakwood, "what has happened?" "In the meantime, Lucy, you have been confided to my guardianship by your brother, and I come here to know whether you intend continuing at the court, or if you have chosen another guardian for yourself." The question was put almost before he was aware of it; and, like the gambler who has risked his all upon a single cast, he watched, with mingled apprehension and anxiety, her features, half revealed by the twilight, and waited with impatience for her reply.

The tapestry waved and shook in the wild wind of the red October, and as the shadows filled the large, old room, another came unknown and mingled his with theirs.

Lucy stood a moment irresolute, but she was one of those who never shrink from laying bare their own feelings, if it gives peace and consolation to another.

"It is not true!" she exclaimed, eagerly. "I know to what you allude. Di Paleotti I never loved, and never will love. Can you believe it? It is not true, Hugo !".

Hugo! There was a depth of passionate fervour in the manner in which she spoke that word, which stirred the heart of D'Lisle with a wild and daring hope. Could she indeed love him? But he rejected the fancy as an improbable phantasy.

"Lucy," said he, as calmly as he could, "I did hear, in common with the court, that you were affianced to the Marquis di Paleotti; but as you assure me of the contrary, I may hope that you accept me as your guardian in your brother's absence."

"Yes," murmured Lucy.

He pursued his theme-he had steeled himself to it. "It may be that in this brilliant circle, Lucy, you may find some one who may win your affections, and in that case will you look on me as on your brother?" His tongue had in vain endeavoured to say, father, but it refused its utterance. There was no reply the chamber seemed hushed into a dull, dead, voiceless, silence.

“Hugo,” faltered Lucy, and as if with

that one word, she overcame the barrier between them. She seemed to have gained strength and energy for a moment, which then suddenly deserted her; but it was enough-the look, half seen, the tender tone, the pressure of her hand, all convinced Hugo that he had not loved in vain, and that he might now hope on and love. What he said, or tried to say, let us not record. The painter of old who drew a veil over the face of the father sorrowing over the dead body of his son, knew that the deepest of the human passions cannot be depicted; and Love, when true, is as intense as Grief.

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Calm and silent were those two hearts,

"all the world forgetting, and by the world forgot," they gazed upon the pale stars seen through the hurrying clouds of night, and saw the quiet moon shining upon the gleaming waters of the little lake before the palace. Nothing between them now, no secret care, no harassing doubt, no tormenting anxiety. They were all in all unto each other, for Love had cast out Fear! They knew now how true, how perfect, and how self-enduring had been the love of the one to the other, and as the orbs of Heaven met their gaze that night, they fixed their eyes above, and knew their hope was there.

Shadows had deepened and circled around them, and still they stood there, not knowing, nor fearing aught that the world could do; but while the moonlight fell in fantastic bends of light upon the inlaid floor, they saw not the darker shadow that stole out from Flemish armour and Gobelin tapestry to blight them with its darksome gloom.

Within, their hearts were filled with confidence and love-without, and by their side, unknown, were doubt, revenge, and hatred.

It was done; one moment in the clear moonlight had the keen dagger flashed, one moment had the dark face of Di Paleotti been revealed to the horrified gaze of Lucy Oakwood, one moment had Hugo D'Lisle strained his promised bride to his breast, one moment had he promised to guard and shield her evermore, and the next—oh, horror!— he lay bleeding and senseless before her loving eyes.

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NIGHT dull, dead, dark, heavy nightbrooded over the earth, as, in the council-chamber at the Hague, stood Henry Oakwood, before the great Prince of Orange. Agitated and excited, he had hurried to William's presence, from the scene of blood, to which the wild screams of his despairing sister had attracted himself and the Princess, and in hurried accents and impetuous language he was urging on the Prince the necessity of pursuing the assassin.

"Calm yourself," said William, whose phlegmatic and quiet nature seemed on this occasion disturbed. My dear Mr. Oakwood, all shall be done that justice demands; but is D'Lisle dead? If so, indeed-"

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"No, your Royal Highness, but dangerously, perhaps mortally wounded. He has been borne to my apartments, where the Princess' physician is now in attendance."

"Will you hearken to me a moment Mr. Oakwood," said the Prince, laying aside his usual reserved manner, and speaking eagerly aud entreatingly. "You, I know, are a man of sense, and can listen to reason, even when your passions are excited by such an outrage as this. It is not expedient that Di Paleotti should be taken."

There was that peculiar expression and emphasis about this expression, and the change from William's cold, dry manner, to this rapid utterance, which stopped Oakwood's meditated reply. William continued, seeing the effect he had produced,—

"I know how dear to you the life of your friend is; but how much dearer is the safety of your country. To the Marquis I am indebted for important aid. If I now take severe measures against him, he may betray my purposes. He knows too much."

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Why, then, not secure him?" inquired Oakwood, anxiously.

"It might be done," said the Prince, musingly, "and yet-No! a fruitless pursuit would but stimulate his revenge, and if successful"'-he paused-"the difficulty would be great. No my dear

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MILTON.

Oakwood, I will put Bentinck quictly on his track, and prevent his leaving the country, not by force, but from interest. If D'Lisle dies, our course is plain: nothing shall prevent justico overtaking him."

Henry Oakwood felt only half convinced, but seeing that William had reasons undivulged for his course of conduct, he sacrificed his private feelings to his public duty, and acquiesced. At the same moment Burnet, the celebrated friend of William and Mary, entered the apartment, followed by Bentinck, the gallant, courageous, and devoted man who had saved William's life by risking his own, when the king had been attacked by that direful malady, the small-pox.

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"The Reverend Hugo D'Lisle," said Burnet, bowing with his usual courtliness, "is pronounced not to be in immediate danger. The Princess sent me to your Royal Highness to inform you of this."

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Thanks, doctor," said the Princo ; and resuming his usual impassive manner, he turned to Henry Oakwood. and said, "You see I decided right!"

Burnet was a man who was only half confided in by the Prince, not from fear of his wilfully betraying his councils, but from the danger of his gossiping propensities leading him, unconsciously and unintentionally, to reveal them. He now looked curiously at the Prince, who vouchsafed no explanation of what his decision had been; and the future historian of that agitating and important period looked puzzled.

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"Farewell, doctor," said the Prince, motioning him to retire; we have matters to discuss which would be uninteresting to you ;" and though Burnet would fain have remained, the command was of course obeyed.

He had scarcely left the room before William, seating himself at his writingtable, requested Bentinck and Oakwood to be seated. There was a dry smile on his lips as he said, "The good doctor would wish to be our minister in things temporal as well as spiritual,

Bentinck, but he is not predestined to be so. Have you hired the ships, however?" he continued, abruptly changing the subject.

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"Yes," replied the favourite councillor of the great and far-seeing Prince, "Five hundred sail await your orders.' "Without the knowledge of any one of our purpose?"

Decidedly," replied the other; "by means of merchants and others we have succeeded in hiring them, and neither the city or court know that our preparations are so far advanced."

"Would to God," said the Prince, "that the wind prove favourable soon! If these storms continue, we will not get out of the Texel this month, and delays are dangerous."

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Oh, the Quaker says that the expedition will set sail, be driven back by storm, then refit, and finally land in triumph on the English coast."

"Not without some grounds for his opinion," said Henry Oakwood, "with a succession of such nights as this; but I trust your Royal Highness will accept the last part of his prophecy and reject the first."

"What must be, must," said the Prince gravely; "and when we feel the winter tempests so severely in our palace, what must it be on the wide

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the Prince. "No! to my mind, the best motto is that of my house, vague though it be, I will maintain.”

"Yes, if your Royal Highness would add," said Henry Oakwood, joining in the conversation, "to the old sentence, 1 will maintain, these words, The liberties of England and the Protestant religion !"

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Right," cried Bentinck, warmly; 'you have caught the expression. It would be as good for your Royal Highness as your Declaration."

"It is admirable," said William, who appeared struck by the idea; and, though nothing more was said at the time, yet it was this sentence, thus casually spoken by Henry Oakwood, which led the troops of the delivering army to victory and glory. "I may tell you," resumed the Prince, after a pause, during which he wrote and noted several letters, "that I have entrusted the command of the army to Schomberg; though old in years, and in wisdom and experience, he is young in heart and courage, and the good cause could not have a better leader."

"Let the Protestant wind but blow for a week," said Bentinck, "and Schomberg will show the hirelings of James what he can do."

"Yes, and prove to those who will watch eagerly the vane on the top of every church in London during this month, that God will indeed be with us," said Henry Oakwood.

"And who can be against us?" said William solemnly. And as Oakwood gazed on his clear eyes, his high forehead, and intellectual, though impassive, grave face, he felt as did an Israelite of old when he looked upon one of the God-sent men who freed his nation from slavery and led them on to victory. He knew that within that feeble frame was a mighty soul to sway the destinies of mankind; he felt that, cold and stern as William seemed to the world, yet the mask of ice concealed a warm and affectionate heart; he had seen the love that great man bore to the friend of his youth, Bentinck; he had watched his all-embracing intellect in the conduct and management of the most difficult affairs; he had served under him, fought under him, bled under him, and what wonder is it that Oakwood almost worshipped the great William, Prince of Orange.

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"Well, no matter; we must hurry over this business, for the night wears on."

The future monarch of England then proceeded to give Henry Oakwood a series of directions about the disposition of the troops, the baggage, and provisions, showing how his great mind comprehended every minute point and detail requisite; and the night was far advanced before the master of Oakwood left the council-chamber of the sagacious, shrewd, and talented Prince of Orange-a man whose life and history have yet to be truly written, and whose real character is misrepresented by one party, and misunderstood by another.

CHAPTER XI.-THE PARTING, THE EMBARKATION, AND THE FATE OF A SPY.

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THE palace was wrapt in silence; nothing was to be heard but the beating of the heavy rain against the casements, the roaring of the wind through the trees, and the measured tread, the watchword, and reply of the sentinels. In one wing of the palace, lights still burned-there, in Henry Oakwood's chamber, lay the wounded D'Lisle.

Henry Oakwood entered the chamber noiselessly; the dim lamp, burning low, scarcely lit its dark, wainscotted walls and sombre hangings; but there was light sufficient to reveal to him, by the bedside of his friend, the graceful form of his sister Lucy.

"He sleeps," said she, holding up her finger as a warning to her brother to tread lightly; and as she turned her face towards him, he saw how the events of the last few hours had changed the expression of her countenance. It was no longer the gay, and perhaps thoughtless girl-the admired and courted maid of honour-whom he gazed on; it was the true, the earnest, and the feeling woman, the betrothed bride, with a heart filled with affection, and showing in sorrow and affliction the might of love. Like the stars which we see not, save as rayless, pale, and feeble orbs by day, but which shine forth gloriously and serenely in the

SANDYS.

DRYDEN'S Virgil.

darkness of night, so woman's soul and woman's love may seem valueless in the sunshine of wealth, and health, and prosperity; bat in the night-time of woe, amid the clouds of sorrow, her virtues glow the brighter, and fill our weary hearts with joy. Oakwood approached the bed, and gazed on the pale and worn, yet noble and highsouled countenance of Hugo D'Lisle. He seemed to sleep but uneasily, and muttered in his rest, as if dreaming. As he bent over him, Henry caught the words. "She loves me! she loves me!" repeated again and again by the wounded man; and suddenly struck by a new idea, he turned and looked at Lucy. She had heard the words also, and her face flushed as she met her brother's kind, calm, and inquiring gaze; and bowing her head, she pressed her lips on the pale brow of her lover, and murmured, "Yes, yes, Henry, I love him." The heart of Henry Oakwood in that hour was lifted up to his God in thankfulness, that she, the dearly-beloved sister of his affections, had found such a protector in the cares of life as his valued and almost idolised friend.

Though now on the bed of sickness, and incapable of protecting her at the moment, yet leury saw in the

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