THE SUITORS REJECTED.

By Miss Emma Roberts, Author of "The History of the Red and White Roses."

"UPON what knave's errand art thou sent, my dainty page thus early?" exclaimed Leonora, "had I not been afoot with the lark to gather May-dew before the sun had drank the moisture from these flowers, thou mightest have gone bootless home again, for my lady the countess, and Victorine and Eugenie still press their pillows: dreaming perchance of thy master and his gallant esquire; dost think boy, that sallow-visaged melancholy baron, sighing after the wreck of the fortune which he lacks the wit to mend, or the doughty hero, Roland, who would fain prompt him, if his dull brain could compass the matter, to some dexterous shift or stirring enterprise; or those goodly trencher men, Dugarde and Montresor, are like to haunt a lady's slumbers?"

"Faith, Leonora," replied the page, 66 it passes my poor judgment to decide what it may please the fancy of thy lady and her maids to dream about; the place is solitary thou knowest-there are no other cavaliers of any mark or likelihood within a dozen

miles, they wear feathers in their caps and deck their legs in silken hose, things which women wondrously affect to look upon, and perchance in default of more ruffling gallants, they may be endured."

"Now out upon thee, for a saucy varlet," cried Leonora, "hie thee hence, sir page, or thou shalt taste the discipline of the scullion's broom, and be sent roaring home again."

"An' thou dost not bid me stay, fair mistress, I'll get me gone, and speedily, but I'll carry that away which to possess thou wouldst give-aye, the lovelock Roland begged so earnestly last night, which thou sworest should go with thee to thy gravea secret, Leonora."

A secret-nay, purse not up thy pretty mouth, thou paragon of pages, but tell it quickly; come, thou art a sprightly lad, and wilt make a better knight than thy master."

"And dost thou think to beguile me with sugared words; no, no, something better, lady, or I'm gone."

"Thou shalt have an eyas, one that the master falconer engages shall prove a tarsel gentle; I'll broider thee thy glove myself, and its jesses shall be of silver: methinks thou only wantest a bird upon thy fist to brave it with the best."

"Wilt thou give me a kiss, Madonna?"

Aye, mannikin, twenty; dost、 think that I should blush to press the smooth lip of such a beard

less urchin? go to, I'll give thee something better than a kiss, take this fair chain of gold, a metal wondrous scant at yonder castle, if report speak true; every link will buy thee some rich gawd; thou shalt have horse to ride, a good sword girded at thy side, and still wear half its length about thy neck."

"Methinks I could carry a hawk as fair, and manage a steed, and wield a rapier as well as the favourite page of King Charles himself, but though I prize a horse and a falcon, and thy massy chain, and thy sweet kisses, pretty Leonora, I'll not sell my secret for aught a-kin to lucre; thou shalt have it without fee or guerdon, because I desire to merit the gilded spurs I mean to win, and I deem it to be rank cowardice for men to set their wit against the weaker sex."

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Aye, marry, these are dainty scruples, malapert conceited minion, keep thy council to aid thy master and his sapient friends, and leave us to countervail their plots. This must needs be some device of Roland's, for the baron has thought of nothing better than to sigh under the garden wall, while his trusty squire clears his hoarse throat and trolls some dismal ditty; and Dugarde and Montresor being kept fasting, groan in concert, and cast tender glances at Victorine and Eugenie, or at the shields of brawn which the servitors carry into the buttery, it were hard to say which."

"Farewell, mistress Leonora, I meant to do thy lady a service; for not to speak it disparagingly, her broad lands rather than her beauty have tempted my master, whose revenues are, as thou sayest, somewhat slack, to play false to his plighted bride; and thy glittering carkanets, Leonora, and the pearl studs, and the diamond bodkins in which the silly hearts of thy fair companions so much delight, are the grand attraction with his needy followers. I dare not hint that Roland is drawn hither by any brighter object than thine eyes, but Montresor and Dugarde see butts of malvoisin, haunches of the red deer, hawks, Damascus blades, and Barbary coursers in every gem."

"I guessed as much," exclaimed Leonora, "an' thy secret be upon a par with thy news, 'twere scarcely worth while to rise so early with it, but for once, though thou deserv'st it not, I'll humour thee; I see thou art burning to tell this marvellous tale, so out with it-from sheer compassion I'll lend thee mine ear."

"Take me then to thy bower, Leonora," replied the page, "for we have idled the time until the morning solitude is broken, and stragglers haunt the glade."

Willingly, my fair boy, and I'll break thy fast with a manchet of wheaten bread, and a platter of potted lampreys, cates I trow not common in the