As he entered the hall, he heard the voice of Leoline; she was singing to the old chief one of the simple ballads of the time that the warrior and the hunter loved to hear. He paused lest he should break the spell (a spell stronger than a sorcerer’s to him), and gazing upon Leoline’s beautiful form, his heart sank within him. His brother and himself had each that day, as they sat in the gardens, given her a flower; his flower was the fresher and the rarer; his he saw not, but she wore his brother’s in her bosom! The chief, lulled by the music and wearied with the toils of the chase, sank into sleep as the song ended, and Warbeck, coming forward, motioned to Leoline to follow him. He passed into a retired and solitary walk, and when they were a little distance from the castle, Warbeck turned round, and taking Leoline’s hand gently, said,-- “Let us rest here for one moment, dearest cousin; I have much on my heart to say to thee.” “And what is there,” answered Leoline, as they sat on a mossy bank, with the broad Rhine glancing below, “what is there that my kind Warbeck would ask of me? Ah, would it might be some favour, something in poor Leoline’s power to grant; for ever from my birth you have been to me most tender, most kind. You, I have often heard them say; taught my first steps to walk; you formed my infant lips into language, and, in after years, when my wild cousin was far away in the forests at the chase, you would brave his gay jest and remain at home, lest Leoline should be weary in the solitude. Ah, would I could repay you!” Warbeck turned away his cheek; his heart was very full, and it was some moments before he summoned courage to reply. “My fair cousin,” said he, “those were happy days; but they were the days of childhood. New cares and new thoughts have now come on us; but I am still thy friend, Leoline, and still thou wilt confide in me thy young sorrows and thy young hopes, as thou ever didst. Wilt thou not, Leoline?” “Canst thou ask me?” said Leoline; and Warbeck, gazing on her face, saw that though her eyes were full of tears, they yet looked steadily upon his; and he knew that she loved him only as a sister. He sighed, and paused again ere he resumed. “Enough,” said he; “now to my task. Once on a time, dear cousin, there lived among these mountains a certain chief who had two sons, and an orphan like thyself dwelt also in his halls. And the elder son--but no matter, let us not waste words on _him_!--the younger son, then, loved the orphan dearly,--more dearly than cousins love; and fearful of refusal, he prayed the elder one to urge his suit to the orphan. Leoline, my tale is done. Canst thou not love Otho as he loves thee?” And now lifting his eyes to Leoline, he saw that she trembled violently, and her cheek was covered with blushes. “Say,” continued he, mastering himself, “is not that flower his--present--a token that he is chiefly in thy thoughts?”