I found her pale and in tears, with a face that too plainly told of present suffering and of past sorrow. She was dressed in a dark robe, having wide loose sleeves trimmed with silver braid and black wolf's fur, which contrasted finely with the whiteness of her delicate skin. She came hurriedly towards me, and putting both her soft hands in mine permitted me to kiss them and place myself beside her. After a sad pause,--'Viscount Dundrennan has just left me,' said she. 'Then you know all?' 'All that Richelieu and King Louis have in store for me--yes. Imprisonment in the Bastille until I shall consent, perhaps, to wed one of their creatures, or until my father, to procure my release, consents to a written surrender of that dukedom which has already been rent from him by force of arms.' Her tears flowed fast; and I pressed her hand to my heart, saying,-- 'Alas! Marie Louise, that you should weep thus--you who have been born to rank and splendour.' 'Nay--I have been born to unhappiness--born of a race that is fated to fall.' 'Louise, listen to me,' said I, trembling for the success of what I was about to propose; but yielding to the dangerous predicament in which we stood; trusting to her love for me, and borne away by my passion for her, heaven lent me eloquence, and the little I said when urging her to marry, and with me to seek safely in flight, was said well and delicately; but all that interview seemed like a dream to me an hour after. She grew pale as snow, and trembled in her turn; but my words had not been heard unheeded. 'Much as I love you, Arthur, and that I do love you, you believe and know, there is a something in all this proceeding at which my pride revolts.' She paused, and my heart sunk; but suddenly she kissed me; her eyes beamed with a beautiful expression, and taking my hands in hers, site said,-- 'You would have married me when you believed me to be but a poor soubrette, dear Arthnr--you, a gentleman of family; a cuirassier of the proud Garde du Corps Ecossais; I have not forgotten that, or that to be ungenerous would be unlike the daughter of Duke Charles. A pure passion, a true love, should ever be ready to make every temporal sacrifice for the object of its regard; but this is no sacrifice that you ask me--to fly with you to your country--this Scotland of which we hear so much in song and war. I ask you to give me a protector; to save me from the Bastille, from Richelieu, and from Louis--from becoming again the wedded victim of a sinking state.' 'Heaven bless you, beloved Louise! This, then, casts the die and decides me. No man can serve two masters.' 'What mean you, Arthur?' 'I cannot obey love and Louis XIII. at the same time.' 'What will the world say, on hearing that after being but three weeks a widow I wedded again?'