"I will repeat it all to you, as sister Margaret has so often told it to me, and you will not wonder at my fears:--She was brought up in the same convent as Eugénie de St. Mesnil: they were friends from childhood; and when Eugénie was removed to her father's house, previous to her betrothment, she begged that her friend might be permitted to accompany her. One morning they were all dressed in their most brilliant apparel,--sister Margaret says that poor Eugénie looked more like an angel than a woman,--the relations were assembled, and in the adjoining apartment waited the notaries and the family of the bridegroom. The folding doors opened:--sister Margaret kept close to Eugénie, who stole a fearful glance towards the gentlemen at the farther end of the room. She whispered softly to sister Margaret 'she only hoped it was not he who wore the blue and silver!' The future bride and bridegroom were now summoned to sign their names to the parchments. Eugénie advanced, and from among the gentlemen she indeed saw him who wore the blue and silver step forward, and it was he who signed his name with hers. Sister Margaret says, that to her dying day she shall never forget the expression of despair in poor Eugénie's countenance. At that moment she resolved she would profess herself a nun; and the very day which saw Eugénie become a miserable wife, sister Margaret returned to her convent. She was soon afterwards removed hither, that she might take the veil among others of her own country.--Alas! alas! how often have I wished to see my native land; and now how much rather would I embrace the fate of sister Margaret, than that of Eugénie de St. Mesnil, if I could do so without failing in duty to my mother!" "My dear young lady, you should not listen to these love tales; they are almost as bad for young people as reading idle romances and songs." The Lady Winifred could not suppress a smile. "Nay, dear Evans, I do not think my tale has been a tale of love," she replied. "I dare say sister Margaret's French friend was very happy after a while, when she became accustomed to the strange duke." "Alas! I believe not"--and the young Winifred shook her head. "Sister Margaret never would tell me any more of what befel her. She says poor Eugénie is at rest, and bids me ask no farther of her history. It was a very sad one, she always adds; so sad, that she rejoiced when she heard of her friend's death!" CHAPTER III. You call this weakness!--It is strength, I say; the parent of all honest feeling! Who loves not his country, can love nothing. _The Two Foscari._