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my own; to morrow's sun shall join our hands, if that be your desire—to night be mine,"
Lost to a sense of all but one being, one thought, and one hope, she sank to sleep in the arms of her seducer.
Where love has fixed his throne, it takes little skill to chase away the grief of a wounded heart—the Prince renewed his vows, and Rosamond, too fond to doubt, was satisfied.
In after years, Lord Clifford discovered his daughter in the mistress of the king, but he could not wrest her from him; and the same concealment that protected Rosamond from the fury of the queen, withheld her from the fondness of a father.
Day passed after day, and he found new pretences to delay the marriage; and at length Rosamond gave birth to a son. The hour of travail had scarcely passed, when news of Stephen's death called Henry hence.
Days, weeks, months, passed away, and the fatal truth at length came upon her heart—she should never be the wife of Henry—another was to bear that title! Eleanor of France, who had been divorced from her husband for infidelity, was
