“Arthur Talbot,” they cried aloud; and each man drew his breath hard, and grasped his sword. “Let the unrighteous perish; let no hand be stretched forth to save him.” Said the captain, “Thou art brave enough not to fear death, Arthur Talbot. Be prepared--thou art of the camp of the lost--thou shalt surely die.” “He die? and have I caused his death? I who love him better than I love my life?” The stern puritan, as he watched the effect of his hasty speech upon the poor lady’s countenance, was sorry he had spoken. Said the puritans among themselves--“Behold a judgment. Is he not delivered into our hands? Then he must surely die!” “Fear not,” said the lost man to his destroyer--she whom he loved so well. “Fear not, death is easy to the brave, and I am brave, or thou wouldst have never loved me.” The captain and the colonel looked hesitatingly one at the other, and then at the cavalier. The puritans murmured and cried aloud. “What! shall not the sword fall when the Lord hath bidden it to destroy?” “I have killed him, I have killed him,” she exclaimed, now miserably sane. “Fear not, my own Elvira.” Again the puritans cried out-- “Wherefore shall we not destroy the enemy?” Suddenly a trumpet sounded. A moment, and the face of the colonel was full of joy, and yet wet with new-born tears. The message was a pardon signed by Cromwell, for all cavaliers who should lay down arms before the action. Said Lord Arthur Talbot. “I have never borne arms against the nation. I have belonged to no camp. I have arrived in England but this evening, and came hither from the vessel.” The puritans forgot themselves, for they gave a shout of joy. And even the bitter Captain Richard Forth was heartily glad to find that Arthur Talbot’s blood had not been shed. So the young bridegroom did not die, and the bride did not therefore destroy him, and his marriage at last took place, sanctified by the glorious truth that he, the bridegroom, had saved a human life. Not only the life of a queen, but the life of a loving mother. LA FIGLIA DEL REGGIMENTO. (DONIZETTI.) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. CHAPTER I. Take any young creature of warm, generous disposition, put a military coat on her fair young shoulders, a smart military hat on her head, and hang a little brandy keg over her right hip, and then you have a delightful vivandiere of the grand army--a very honest, decent kind of girl. _Our_ vivandiere was called the daughter of the regiment, for she knew no other parents than the rough, but warm-hearted soldiers. They found a little child on the field of battle; they nurtured her, and called her “Marie.”