Page:Ainsworth's Magazine - Volume 1.djvu/62

looked, it appeared to her that on the other side, beneath the rock in the shade, a person was regarding her. Presently, from the recess, the figure of a Capucin monk was visible; he advanced, and gave to her a benediction.

"Daughter," he gently said, "what is the reason that you come so seldom to confession of late? It is not well done, and as I am anxious for your good, I wish to tell you that your neglect of so important a duty is observed; and besides being a sin, will cause you to be lightly looked upon."

Yolande answered, rather sharply, that she had been busy of late, and intended shortly to go to confession. The Monk went on to reprove her in a tone, not of severity, but of kindness, and ended his advice by recommending her to come every evening to the cascade, where he would meet and admonish her for her daily omissions, and afford her all the spiritual aid in his power.

After this evening, Yolande never failed to stop at the cascade as she brought home her goats, and she was sure to find the Capucin waiting there; or if she came rather earlier than usual, she could see him hastening down the mountain to the place of rendezvous. It did not escape her, that on these occasions he did not appear to come from the monastery, but from some point above it, and she imagined it to be in the direction of the castle.

When they met, the Monk not only talked to her on religious subjects, but on many others of which she had never thought before; and she began to wonder how she could have been so long content to remain in her former ignorance. He taught her to know the stars by name, and explained many of the secrets of nature; told her of other countries, and related histories of personages of whom she had never dreamt. She took so much pleasure in the lessons he gave her, that she was never so happy as when the time came for her to return with her goats to the village, and she could remain an hour beside the cascade.

One evening she arrived before him, and looked anxiously towards the path where he usually descended. He was very late, and when he appeared, seemed in great agitation.

"Yolande," he said, "I have long deceived you, and must now declare the truth. I am not a monk of the convent, nor was my motive for seeking you a spiritual one. I love you, and cannot live without you. The Baron of Coupladour is my father!"

Yolande was thunderstruck; but it certainly was not with sorrow at the unexpected discovery. All the difficulties of their position did not at once occur to her, and she only saw herself beloved by a man of rank, whose affection she returned.

The young Seigneur Orbert was, however, very uneasy; he informed her that his father had that day proposed a marriage to him with the daughter of the neighbouring Baron de Montrodeix, and how to escape it he knew not.

"I must," he said, "consult with my friend and fellow-student, the young Capucin who has hitherto favoured the disguise in which I have visited you. No one shall be my bride but you, if you will assure me of your love, and promise to be only mine."

Orbert was too eloquent and too much beloved not easily to obtain the vows of the gratified and tender Yolande, and they mutually swore never to forsake each other, whatever dangers might ensue.

The Baron, meanwhile, had entered into a negotiation with the father of her to whom he intended uniting his son; his overtures were accepted, and a day was fixed on which the lady was to be escorted to the castle of Coupladour, where the marriage ceremony was to be performed. Six knights were