“It was against my will,” said Leoline, boldly, though her voice shook, “You and Prudence made me.” “Nay, Leoline, you wrong me. I, at least, need no compulsion.” “You know better. You haunted me continually; you gave me no peace at all; and I would just have married you to get rid of you.” “And you never loved me?” “I never did.” “A frank confession! Did you, then, love any one else?” The dark eyes fell, and the roseate glow again tinged the pearly face. “Mute!” said the count, with an almost imperceptible smile. “Look up, Leoline, and speak.” But Leoline would do neither. With all her momentary daring gone, she stood startled as a wild gazelle. “Shall I answer for her, Sir Count?” exclaimed Sir Norman, his own cheek dashed. “Leoline! Leoline! you love me!” Leoline was silent. “You are to decide between us, Leoline. Though the count forcibly brought you here, he has been generous enough to grant this. Say, then, which of as you love best.” “I do not love him at all,” said Leoline, with a little disdain, “and he knows it.” “Then it is I!” said Sir Norman, him whole face beaming with delight. “It is you!” Leoline held out both hands to the loved one, and nestled close to his side, like a child would to its protector. “Fairly rejected!” said the count, with a pacing shade of mortification on his brow; “and, my word being pledged, I most submit. But, beautiful Leoline, you have yet to learn whom you have discarded.” Clinging to her lover's arm, the girl grew white with undefined apprehension. Leisurely, the count removed false wig, false eyebrows, false beard; and a face well known to Leoline, from pictures and description, turned full upon her. “Sire!” she cried, in terror, calling on her knees with clasped hands. “Nay; rise, fair Leoline,” said the king, holding out his hand to assist her. “It is my place to kneel to one so lovely instead of having her kneel to me. Think again. Will you reject the king as you did the count?” “Pardon, your majesty!”, said Leoline, scarcely daring to look up; “but I must!” “So be it! You are a perfect miracle of troth and constancy, and I think I can afford to be generous for once. In fifteen minutes, we start for Oxford, and you must accompany us as Lady Kingsley. A tiring woman will wait upon you to robe you for your bridal. We will leave you now, and let me enjoin expedition.” And while she still stood too much astonished by the sudden proposal to answer, both were gone, and in their place stood a smiling lady's maid, with a cloud of gossamer white in her arms. “Are those for me?” inquired Leoline, looking at them, and trying to comprehend that it was all real. “They are for you--sent by Mistress Stuart, herself. Please sit down, and all will be ready in a trice.”