The mass was celebrated--the vassals rose and retired. According to her custom, the Lady Imogene yet remained, and knelt before the tomb of her brother. A low whisper, occasionally sounding,-assured her that someone was at the confessional; and soon the palmer, who was now shrived, knelt at her side. ‘Lothair!’ muttered the lady, apparently at her prayers, ‘beloved Lothair, thou art too bold!’ ‘Oh, Imogene! for thee what would I not venture?’ was the hushed reply. ‘For the sake of all our hopes, wild though they be, I counsel caution.’ ‘Fear naught. The priest, flattered by my confession, is fairly duped. Let me employ this golden moment to urge what I have before entreated. Your father, Imogene, can never be appeased. Fly, then, my beloved! oh, fly!’ ‘Oh, my Lothair! it never can be. Alas! whither can we fly?’ ‘Sweet love! I pray thee listen:--to Italy. At the court of my cousin, the Duke of Milan, we shall be safe and happy. What care I for Branchimont, and all its fortunes? And for that, my vassals are no traitors. If ever the bright hour arrive when we may return in joy, trust me, sweet love, my flag will still wave on my father’s walls.’ ‘Oh, Lothair! why did we meet? Why, meeting, did we not hate each other like our fated race? My heart is distracted. Can this misery be love? Yet I adore thee------’ ‘Lady!’ said the page, advancing, ‘the priest approaches.’ The Lady Imogene rose, and crossed herself before the altar. ‘To-morrow, at this hour,’ whispered Lothair. The Lady Imogene nodded assent, and, leaning on her page, quitted the shrine. CHAPTER II. _A Pert Page_ ‘DEAREST Lady,’ said the young page, as they returned to the castle, ‘my heart misgives me. As we quitted the shrine, I observed Rufus, the huntsman, slink into the adjoining wood.’ ‘Hah! he is my father’s most devoted instrument: nor is there any bidding which he would hesitate to execute--a most ruthless knave!’ ‘And can see like a cat in the dark, too,’ observed young Theodore. ‘I never loved that man, even in my cradle,’ said the Lady Imogene; ‘though he can fawn, too. Did he indeed avoid us?’ ‘Indeed I thought so, madam.’ ‘Ah! my Theodore, we have no friend but you, and you are but a little page.’ ‘I would I were a stout knight, lady, and I would fight for you.’ ‘I warrant you,’ said Imogene; ‘you have a bold heart, little Theodore, and a kind one. O holy Virgin. I pray thee guard in all perils my bright-eyed Lothair!’ ‘Lord Branchimont is the finest knight I ever set eyes upon,’ said Theodore. ‘I would I were his squire.’ ‘Thou shalt be his squire, too, little Theodore, if all goes well.’ ‘Oh! glorious day, when I shall wear a sword instead of a scarf! Shall I indeed be his squire, lady sweet?’ ‘Indeed I think thou wilt make a very proper squire.’ ‘I would I were a knight like Lord Branchimont; as tall as a lance, and as strong as a lion; and such a fine beard too!’