manners, so completely fascinated him, that he felt he could never leave her without being very unhappy.

The noble Ethelred was acquainted with the virtues of his daughter. Business often called him suddenly from the castle; and without suspicion he left the beautiful maiden alone with the king, who was slowly recovering. Alfred's virtues found no cause of alarm in his pure love. He perceived no obstacle to prevent him from uniting himself with the countess, whom, however, he wished to test before taking her as his companion for life.

Alfred was personally unknown to all his Saxons. They only heard of him by his actions. He continued to conceal his birth, and was believed by his followers to be a common Saxon warrior, brought up in arms. In spite of this abasement he endeavoured to please the maiden. She soon discovered sufficient signs of the love of the unknown; the innocent proofs of his esteem and his admiration, made him involuntarily betray marks of his superior education, which Elswitha could not harmonize with his coarse garments and appearance. Alfred could not conceal the manners of high life. He was the best poet among the Saxons, of whom none could write in their language with such ele

gance as himself. lady with short poems, and sometimes with tales, which so charmed her that she was often obliged to prolong the time of her presence.

He sometimes entertained the

Alfred related to her under assumed names, his voyages and wars, and told her that he had been a witness of the great battles, where in reality he had been the commander. He described in vivid pictures the splendour of great Rome, the beauties of happy Italy, with its shrubs of myrtle, and its forests of laurel, and the ever-blooming islands of the Mediterranean. Of her own charms, of her personal attributes, he only spoke as a common servant,23 who had not the courage to raise his eyes to the elevated princess, but who, nevertheless, felt her perfection. He disclosed his own sentiments in ballads which appeared old, but were only composed for herself, and only suitable to their mutual situation. When she blushed, and Alfred feared that she would break off the too bold conversation, he could turn it without restraint upon other topics, or respectful jokes. He accompanied her singing on his lute, which he played with perfection; and which greatly increased the touching power of his agreeable voice.

The countess was in the bloom of her youth,

and, according to the customs of those times, was brought up in the paternal castle, where she had opportunities of seeing many hardy warriors, and vigorous knights; but Alfred's noble deportment, and the fascinating spirit of his conversation, had for her all the attraction of novelty. The king's features, partly disguised by artificial colour, could not be completely disfigured; and the nobleness of his soul shone through his bright eyes. The innocent beauty became imperceptibly pleased with this intercourse, soon also with the person of the unknown; and her heart was captured before she was aware that it had surrendered.

The impression which he made on the fair lady could not be concealed from the penetrating Alfred, and he ventured to let her perceive his love in more explicit words. Without a positive declaration, he sufficiently described the sentiments of his heart to be divined. Elswitha, without knowing how far she was ensnared, had no suspicions of herself. She became accustomed to return his looks with reciprocal glances; her voice assumed the confidential sweetness which unstained youth grants to them who are inspired with their first love. She had little secrets which Alfred alone should know; and accompanied him when he sang of love under imaginary names.

The king's wound was now healed, and he found no pretence for remaining any longer in the castle of the earl. Besides, he was preparing himself for the enterprise which was to replace him on the throne of the Saxons, and the young man was already too wise to sacrifice to love the duty which he owed his people and his own dignity. But he could not tear himself from the charming bands of the fair Elswitha, without taking with him the certainty that his image alone occupied her heart. He allowed himself a dissimulation not in his character, but resolved that the short pain which he would cause the maiden should be recompensed by the most constant love.

Ethelred was on a journey to a tournament given by another noble, a trial for which Alfred's arm had not yet acquired sufficient strength. Ethelred left him in the castle, which stood on a hill, at the foot of which was a grotto, formed by the rocks, from which descended a cool spring. To this place Elswitha resorted for shelter from the glowing heat of the sun. "Wulf," said the affable maiden, "has not yet seen the noblest ornament of the castle," and she led him to the grotto. Alfred had never ventured the least intimacy which could have intimidated her virtue; and although he pleased her, and she could no

longer conceal it, she only took him for a young warrior of ignoble birth, and to whom she would never abase herself, however agreeable his good qualities might be.

Alfred profited by the moment when he was alone with her, and solemnly said, "It is all over, I must leave this castle, where I have met with so much kindness; but I am ungrateful enough to wish that I had never been received in it." Elswitha seemed surprised at this discourse; but the dissembling king continued, "I cannot possibly conceal that I have seen the fair Elswitha too often, and that the recollection of her charms and her virtues will make me miserable for the remainder of my days." Modestly Elswitha blushed; the pride of her ancestors revolted at the declaration of a man she thought unworthy of her. But an inward feeling spoke for the unknown, and checked the agitation of her anger: "Wulf forgets," said she, hesitatingly, "that he is a wounded man, and that my father's castle received him only as a warrior who needed our assistance, and was not unworthy of it." "Wulf forgets not the dignity of Elswitha," said Alfred, interrupting her; "he knows best the value of the perfect lady whom he offends. But there are sentiments which no objections of reason can suppress, and no one has ever felt what I do