The Lady Rohesia mended apace; her quinsy was cured; the bell was stopped; and little Hubert, the sacristan, kicked out of the chapelry. St. Peter opened his wicket, and looked out;--there was nobody there; so he flung-to the gate in a passion, and went back to his lodge, grumbling at being hoaxed by a runaway ring. Years rolled on.--The improvement of Lady Rohesia's temper did not keep pace with that of her health; and one fine morning Sir Guy de Montgomeri was seen to enter the _porte-cochère_ of Durham House, at that time the town residence of Sir Walter Raleigh. Nothing more was ever heard of him; but a boat full of adventurers was known to have dropped down with the tide that evening to Deptford Hope, where lay the good ship the Darling, commanded by Captain Keymis, who sailed next morning on the Virginia voyage. A brass plate, some eighteen inches long, may yet be seen in Denton chancel, let into a broad slab of Bethersden marble; it represents a lady kneeling, in her wimple and hood; her hands are clasped in prayer, and beneath is an inscription in the characters of the age-- "Praie for ye sowle of ye Lady Royse, And for alle Christen sowles!" The date is illegible; but it appears that she survived King Henry the Eighth, and that the dissolution of monasteries had lost St. Mary Rouncival her thousand marks.--As for Beatrice Grey, it is well known that she was alive in 1559, and then had virginity enough left to be a maid of Honour to "good Queen Bess." * * * * * It was during the "Honey (or, as it is sometimes termed, the "Treacle,) Moon," that Mr. and Mrs. Seaforth passed through London. A "good-natured friend," who dropped in to dinner, forced them in the evening to the theatre for the purpose of getting rid of him. I give Charles's account of the Tragedy, just as it was written, without altering even the last couplet--for there would be no making "Egerton" rhyme with "Story." THE TRAGEDY. Quæque ipse miserrima vidi.--VIRGIL. Catherine of Cleves was a Lady of rank, She had lands and fine houses, and cash in the Bank; She had jewels and rings, And a thousand smart things; Was lovely and young, With a _rather_ sharp tongue, And she wedded a Noble of high degree With the star of the order of _St. Esprit_; But the Duke de Guise Was, by many degrees, Her senior, and not very easy to please; He'd a sneer on his lip, and a scowl with his eye, And a frown on his brow,--and he look'd like a Guy,-- So she took to intriguing With Monsieur St. Megrin, A young man of fashion, and figure, and worth, But with no great pretensions to fortune or birth; He would sing, fence, and dance With the best man in France, And took his rappee with genteel _nonchalance_; He smiled, and he flatter'd, and flirted with ease, And was very superior to Monseigneur de Guise.