Page:Ainsworth's Magazine - Volume 1.djvu/64

without her, had removed to the vicinity of the convent, which was not far from the castle of the Cascade. The fêtes were dull; the young men no longer flocked to see the beauty of the valley, and a cloud seemed to hang over the scene once so full of life and amusement.

There were great rejoicings at the castle of Orbert, for an heir was born to him, and lie hastened to dispatch a messenger to Coupladour, to beg his father's presence, that he might present the child to him.

As the Baron, delighted at the summons, mounted his horse and was just leaving his gate, he was met by a squire from Montrodeix, who had ridden fast to inform him that his lord had gained a great victory over the marauders, and was now on his way to visit him and his daughter.

Almost immediately after, the Lord of Montrodiex himself arrived, and great was the joy of both on communicating all the glad tidings each could give.

They resolved to ride together to the castle of the Cascade, and afford the young parents an agreeable surprise. The evening was misty, and the grey rocks of the forest were enveloped in a dim veil, as they hastened their horses' speed, to arrive before dark. As they crossed the Pont des Eaux they observed a female sitting on a stone at the brink of the stream, wringing some linen which she had washed in the waters: they were passing her without notice, when she called to them.

"Descend, sir knights, and help me to wring my linen."

"What means this boldness?" asked Montrodeix. "Are we fit companions for such as thee to jest with?"

"I am wringing a shroud," replied the strange female, "and your hand is fitting to help me. Descend, I say."

The Baron of Coupladour shuddered; he whispered to his companion, "Holy Mary! it is the Laveuse de Nuit! We are undone!"

They put spurs to their horses, and fled from the spot as fast as their speed would carry them, but the Laveuse, with loud laughter, continued to call after them—

"Brave knights, you fly fast, but at the end of your journey the shroud will be hung at the gates."

The storm, which had long threatened, now came on with fury, and on all sides the torrents rushed down the mountains, as, swelled by the rain, they burst their bounds, and carried away rocks and trees in their descent. Drenched and weary, the two travellers reached the gate of the castle of the Cascade, and blew the horn. At the moment the porter opened the gate, a figure in white rushed past them, bearing in her outstretched arms what seemed a wet shroud,—a wild peal of laughter echoed through the court, and the form disappeared up the grand staircase.

In no very cheerful mood, the travellers entered. But anxious to forget their vexations in the sight of their children, they hurried up the turret stairs to the chamber of Orbert and his lady.

They entered abruptly, and there they beheld the pair seated by each other's side, holding between them a lovely infant.

"Behold, my friend," cried the Baron of Coupladour, "your dear daughter and your new grandson!"—but he was interrupted by a shriek from the lady, who, throwing herself back and covering her face with her hands, sunk, as if lifeless, into her husband's arms.

"My daughter!" cried the astonished lord of Montrodeix—"do you call this my daughter? I never beheld her till this moment!"

"Enough," exclaimed Orbert, starting up—"this is no place for explanation; follow me into another chamber."