“What exquisite creature is she, who moves like a queen by right of her own loveliness!” exclaimed a young French nobleman of the highest rank, who was visiting at the court. “Tell me, Ormond?” he said, turning to an older person who stood beside him, “do your cold English eyes behold unmoved such a vision of beauty; for my own part, I confess that, never upon my sight rose so peerless a creature.” And, in truth, Mabel’s beauty was of no ordinary kind; tall, and rather slender, yet with all the roundness of _contour_, and the gracefulness of childhood, every movement had a charm. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, and so transparently delicate that it glowed with every passing emotion; her eyes, large and full, were of that dark violet hue that varies every moment—sometimes so soft and liquid that you would have thought her a creature all gentleness, then flashing with the light of thought, brilliant and sparkling, as though a tear had never dimmed their lustre. At times, the mirth—so natural to her once—would play over her lovely features, glancing in dimples round her rosy mouth, and bringing to view the pearly teeth, so small and regular. On this evening she was robed in a thin, exquisite dress of the richest lace, over a satin of such lustre as to resemble woven silver, whilst on her raven hair rested a tiara of brilliants, such as a nobleman’s revenue could not purchase, the gift of the Queen to Lady Arlington on her marriage. Her snowy neck and arms were circled with the same sparkling gems, and one shone like a star on the girdle that confined her slender waist. Who would have recognized in the queenly bearing and rather haughty countenance of the Lady Mabel, the sweet, simple and loving maiden, who used to dance over the fields at Riverdale? And yet could she have met in all that crowd of flatterers one true friend, one pure, guileless nature, Mabel’s whole face would have changed, and her free spirit have flowed out in all its wonted fullness and confidingness. The young Duke D’Alençon, the French nobleman to whom we have before alluded, was of the blood-royal, and an especial favorite of Louis Fourteenth, the reigning monarch of France. He had been educated at a convent, and was early imbued with the strongest reverence for the Romish church: so deeply was his mind filled with its superstitions, that it was only the most-earnest solicitations of relations that prevented his becoming a monk. A residence at the Court of Louis, the most dissipated and reckless of any in Europe, had moderated, in some measure, his severe notions of conduct, but his attachment to the forms and ceremonies of his own church remained as firm and bigoted as before. It was the sympathy between himself and the English monarch, that had induced him to visit the Court of St. James.