Behold them, then, embarked in one of the coun try boats, with a lattice sail, laden with crockery and wine jars, and gliding along that sparkling river, winding in beautiful reaches above three miles through the fertile plain up to the very city; luxuriant meadows on each side filled with people; the little hills rising suddenly, and crowned with pretty villas belonging to the bons bourgeois of the town, with now and then a Chateau de Seigneur, like Mount St. Jules; the opening streets and churches as you approach the mouldering but picturesque walls all this, together with the equable, cheerful motion of the boat, the bells of the horses, and songs of the conductors in the towing path, would have made Evelyn, and Tremaine too, as happy as sense could have made them, but for their secret thought, and inward melancholy.

"Confess this is a beautiful scene," cried Evelyn, "and worth all that riches can procure, although we pay but a piece de vingt quatre sous for it."

"I do indeed," said Tremaine, and I confess also that though I hate impertinent people as much as ever, I am now as much alive as perhaps you would have me, to the simpler scenes of nature;―nay, and in my solitude I have at length learned to extract amusement, if not profit, from a boor. Perhaps too," and he hesitated,-nay, even a blush, though not of pride, tinged his sallow cheek as he said it, -"this is not all I have to confess.'

Evelyn looked at him with friendly anxiety, to examine in his countenance if more was there than had met the ear. It is certain that the interest which lay uppermost with him, was all excited. Thinking he understood him, he exclaimed,

"With what delight shall I hail those venerable piles we are approaching, if they have restored my friend to us, such in all points as Heaven intended him to be!"

This was all the allusion he ventured to make to the one great subject of his thoughts. He saw by the manner in which this was taken, that he was understood. It was all he could then expect; and, indeed, their arrival at the busy wharf where they were to land, prevented more.

CHAP. VIII.

THE CLOISTERS.

At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans.”

SHAKSPEARE.

"AH! que c'est une superbe ville qu' Orléans!" This is the exclamation of every Frenchman as he approaches it; and the epithet is for once not unde

served. Orleans rises from the water in a little semicircular hill, with a bridge below of sixteen arches, and a terrace hanging above. Its University, founded by Philippe le Bel; its forty towers, and fortyeight Canonries, of which twelve are dignitaries; above all, its ancient grandeur as a Church, and all its legends!-Does it not do the warm heart good to see a place like this preserved from Attila by the prayers of a Bishop, and from the English by the sword of a holy maid?

Evelyn thought of none of these things, when he first landed with Tremaine; but, with a mind full of another subject, walked straight to the menuisier's, where they both busied themselves about Georgina's comforts. Afterwards, indeed, they visited the cathedral, and having filled themselves with much ancient lore, the short but impressive annals of the dead, they walked an old cloister, that abutted upon the Bishop's garden, and seemed abandoned to them and silence, by all the world, save now and then where a solitary ecclesiastic crossed their path, in his habit, proceeding on the little business of the church, between the Bishop and the Chapter.

"This is indeed," said Evelyn,

'The studious cloisters pale;'

"And impressive enough," added he, looking at an immense crucifix which had lately been erected in a

point where two cloisters met, and together with an abundance of painted glass, whose rich tints blazed in a deep glow of colouring from the mid-day sun, gave a solemn magnificence to the place, even in the eyes of a Protestant divine. At that moment, one of the ecclesiastics above-mentioned passing through, crossed himself with great reverence, bowing low as he passed the crucifix.

"I am not surprised," said Tremaine, at this ostentation; and I should conceive, though the reverence inspired is evidently artificial, yet as the object is to create habitual reverence among ignorant people, it is not without its use."

A young girl, who could not be above eighteen, and of the lower order, but decent and serious in hér appearance, now approached the crucifix, and passing into a little enclosed niche, that had the look of a shrine, threw herself with fervour on her knees, and with clasped hands and downcast eyes, from which tears at last fell, ejaculated several prayers to herself, in great and evidently sincere emotion.

"Some penance," observed Evelyn; and the two friends, respecting her condition, moved from her. Returning, they found her retiring with something like composure, after having performed this imposed or voluntary duty, whatever it might be.

"This does not seem artificial," observed Evelyn. "Certainly not; that poor girl is all the better for

her devotions, from a confidence in their efficacy," said Tremaine.

"She thinks her prayers have been heard," remarked Evelyn.

"Undoubtedly! and this is a happy sight."

"That you should at length think so!" said Evelyn, considerably moved.

66

"I have long thought so," rejoined his friend, long (for why should I disguise it?) felt all that sympathy which you once so memorably explained to me, and felt too, that the devotion of sympathy is not unreal because it is sympathetic.'

"My dear Tremaine," cried the Doctor, pressing his hand," these are joyful tidings to me. But why, (for I must in all kindness reproach you) why have you concealed this so long from those who would have been so gladdened by hearing it ?"

"You know not how far I can go, or where stop. short," replied Tremaine : "I know not myself the extent of my own progress to what I would fain think, and yet cannot be convinced, is truth. I am not what I was I even detest my former blindness, my hardness of heart. But even now I am little sure; I am indeed still full of doubts; and were this a proper place and time, I would immediately open to you this too interesting, too saddening field of thought. At any rate, the time seems come for confessions, far other than those of the poor girl who has just left us.