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handed her the goblet, filled with the richest vintage, as he spoke.
The curfew mandate extended even to the habitation of the prince, and every light was extinguished; the pale beams of the moon, alone, fell upon their faces as they sat—the solitude, the calmness of the hour, gave a charm to all. Henry approached, not as the conscious lover, who deemed her all his own, but as the humble suitor, who feared offending, when he came to bliss her.
"We are the victims of fate, my beloved Rosamond," he cried; "but the time will come, when all shall be our own. When Stephen is in his grave, a sovereign's love shall bid all sorrow cease, and England hail fair Rosamond as queen."
'Twas in vain that she spoke of Lord Clifford. "He will forgive the means, when he beholds the end", cried Henry, "and bless the deed that made his daughter Empress of this Isle. Do you doubt my word?
"Oh? no, no, no," cried Rosamund "I have no doubts, no fears; your love I know, and I judge it by my own."
"Then my soul's treasure," cried the enraptured prince, "doom not that love to such long, needless pangs—come be
