But I could not stand that. Partly Guy’s dreadful calm, and partly that allusion to the long ago when we were so much to each other, broke me down, and laying my head down upon Guy’s arm, I burst into a passionate flood of tears. Oh, what good they did me! I could scarcely have believed how much quieted and lightened I should feel for them. Though there was no real change, yet the most distressing part of the weight seemed gone. I actually caught myself fancying what Monseigneur would say to us when we came home. Guy said he would go with me to my chamber. I was glad that we met no one below. But as we entered the corridor at the head of the stairs, little Agnes came running to us, holding up for admiration a string of small blue beads. "See, Baba!—See, Tan’!—Good!" These are her names for Guy and me. Every thing satisfactory is "good" with Agnes—it is her expressive word, which includes beautiful, amiable, precious, and all other varieties. I felt as if my heart were too sore to notice her, and I saw a spasm of pain cross Guy’s face. But he lifted the child in his arms, kissed her, and admired her treasure to her baby heart’s content. If I were but half as selfless as he! "And who gave thee this, little one?" "Amma. Good!" It was the child’s name for her mother. Ah, little Agnes, I cannot agree with thee! "Amma" and "good" must no longer go into one sentence. How could she play, to-day, with Guy’s children? Yet I suppose children must be fed, and cared for, and trained, and amused,—even though their elders’ hearts are breaking. Oh, if I might lie down somewhere, and sleep, and awake eighteen years ago, when I was a little sorrowless child like Agnes! The coronation is fixed for Holy Cross Day. And Lady Sybil has undertaken, as soon as she is crowned, to select her future husband. One condition she has insisted on herself. Every noble, on the coronation day, is to take a solemn oath that he will be satisfied with and abide by her decision, and will serve the King of her choice for ever. This seems to me a very wise and politic move, as it will prevent any future disputes. Every body appears to have no doubt on whom her choice will fall. All expect the Count of Tripoli. Guy has requested permission to retire to Ascalon; and she has accorded it, but with the express stipulation that he is to be in his place, with the rest of her peers, at the coronation. It does seem to me a piece of needless cruelty. Surely she might have spared him this! I also have asked permission to retire from Court. Of course I go with Guy. Whoever forsakes him, the little sister shall be true. For about the first time in my life, I am thoroughly pleased with Amaury. He is nearly as angry as I am—which is saying a great deal. And he is the only person in whose presence I dare relieve my feelings by saying what I think of Sybil, for Guy will not hear a word.