“Hush! hush! my daughter; remember who controls our destinies; think who it is that orders all the events of life. He has said, ‘Children, obey your parents,’ ‘Honor thy father and thy mother,’ and shall I, one of his ministers, counsel you to disobey him? No, my precious child, dear as you are to my heart; though the light of this world will have gone out for me when I no longer see my Mabel’s face, or hear her soft, sweet tones, yet I would have you go at once, my child; and go determined; so far as you can under God, to please your father—render to him the obedience that is due from a child to a parent. In one thing, however, you will be tried, your father is a Roman Catholic; in your religious faith be firm and steadfast; let no persuasions induce you to give up the simple faith of our Protestant church; be strong, be prudent, and be gentle in all your intercourse with him, and perhaps the daughter may yet lead her father back to the pure faith of his ancestors, though,” murmured he to himself, “a king’s favor is a tempting bait.” “But Walter,” tremblingly uttered the weeping girl, who had hardly understood the rector’s words, so filled was her heart with that dear image. “Walter! must I leave him—I was so soon to be all his; can I not write and tell my father so, and then perhaps—he might—I am sure if he only knew Walter”—she blushed and hesitated, and then stopped, waiting in tearful suspense to hear what would be said by him whose word for fifteen years had been her law. “Mabel, my darling child, it may not be; you must not even dream of such a step. Think you the noble Earl of Arlington would suffer his daughter to wed a poor curate? No, my precious child, you must give up Walter—forget him—think only of your duty to your father, or rather, your duty to your God.” He said no more, for Mabel, upon whose loving heart these words fell like the sentence of death, sunk fainting upon the floor. No words escaped from those pale lips, and not even a sigh relieved the bursting heart. “Poor stricken lamb!” said the kind old man, as he gently raised the lifeless form, “had I but known thy future destiny this suffering at least thou shouldst have been spared—little did I dream when, fifteen years ago, thou wert brought, a little child beautiful as the angels, to my lonely home, that thou wast one day to tread the halls of royalty.” He laid her gently on the couch, and hastily summoning what help he could command, watched fondly and anxiously the return of consciousness. And now let us review briefly the circumstances that have so strangely formed the lot of our young heroine.