"I warrant me," continued the cloistered shrew, “that thou wouldst wed with this same Henry Beauclerc, king—as the false Normans, and still falser Saxons, style him! Never!” she added, striking her clenched hand upon her abbatial chair; never while I live! Thou art, in all but name, a nun professed, and I will not see the altar robbed of its votaress!"

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It was in vain that Matilda wept, and declared that she had never worn the veil, save on compulsion. The royal virago dismissed her to her cell with bitter imprecations, and it is even said struck her several blows in her passion: an outrage not at all improbable, when we consider the violent character of the abbess, the great object of whose life appears to have been to provide a successor to office in the person of her niece.

The faithful Turgot, who most probably suspected the species of persecution to which the future queen was subjected, at once imparted his suspicions of the intention to Henry, who, acting upon his advice, at once wrote a letter to the exiled primate, Anselm, to solicit his return to England, since his authority could alone decide between him and the abbess, who still continued her preparations for the profession of her niece, loudly declaring that, without sacrilege, she could not wed with Henry, having been from childhood devoted to the altar.

Before, however, she could put her designs into execution, a mandate arrived from the archbishop, forbidding her, on pain of excommunication, to proceed in the affair till he himself had examined the point at issue. By a similar decree he strictly forbade, under the same penalty, all ecclesiastics—no matter of what rank-to receive the vows of the princess: thus one great point was achieved. But the impression had become so general that Matilda was already a veiled nun, that those who had lately ardently desired the marriage were now as warmly opposed to it. Things were in this state when the long-exiled primate arrived in England. The affair appears to have been of such importance that he refused to decide by his sole authority; he therefore summoned a council of the Anglican clergy to assemble at Lambeth, before which he issued his precept for the Princess Matilda to ap

pear. The royal virgin, attended by her aunt, on the receipt of the mandate left the convent at Wilton, and departed for London. On the way, and even before the council, the stern old abbess compelled her to wear the odious black veil, which had been the torment of her life.

The great hall of Lambeth Palace must have presented a striking appearance, filled with the bishops, mitred abbots, and dignitaries of the church over which the venerable Anselm presided. As soon as the council was opened, Matilda and her inexorable aunt appeared before the assembled fathers. In consideration of their rank, they were accommodated with seats at the lower end of the hall.

The very words in which the examination was conducted, and the replies of Matilda, have been handed down by Eadmer, secretary to the archbishop, an eye-witness of the transaction.

The primate commenced by stating the objection to her marriage, and declared that if she had either been devoted to the church by the vow of her parents, or embraced a religious life of her own free will, no earthly considerations should induce him to absolve her from her vow.

። Never," replied the princess; "never, venerable fathers, has any such engagement been entered into by me, neither have I been devoted to the altar by the vow of my parents, as my persecutors well know!"

Her aunt Christina, who was no less surprised than enraged at her firmness, interrupted her by declaring that for years she had worn the black veil, even in her father's court.

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Once, and once only!" exclaimed her niece, who seems to have shown remarkable presence of mind on the occasion ; "when the abbess placed it on my head; but the king, my father, was so indignant at the act, that he tore it off, and bitterly reproached my aunt for her presumption."

"Is this true?" demanded Anselm, turning to the abbess, who remained obstinately silent. "Woman!" he added, extending his crozier towards her, "I adjure thee! Speak! The council must not be trifled with!"

"It is!" faltered Christina. "But she has worn it since!" "As a protection from the violence of the Norman nobles, holy fathers, and by the command of my aunt! If I attempted to remove it, she would not only reproach me, but have recourse to blows and menaces! With tears and regret, I confess that I wore it in her presence; but I can appeal to the whole sisterhood at Wilton, if I did not remove and trample upon it, as soon as I retired from her presence!"

The explanation of the young princess was considered so complete, that the council, without one dissentient voice, “pronounced that she had never taken the vows, or been devoted, either by her own will or the wishes of her parents, to the cloister. And that Matilda, daughter or Malcolm, late King of Scotland, was free to contract marriage with the King."

When the abbess Christina heard the sentence, she broke out into curses, and invoked misfortune upon her niece and her descendants.

"Heed her not!" said the venerable primate, leaving his archiepiscopal throne, and advancing to the spot where Matilda had sunk upon her knees in terror: "Heaven will not satisfy the unjust imprecations of the wicked!

By this act I restore thee to

the world, and to the husband who demands thee!"

So saying, the archbishop removed from the head of the princess the heavy veil which had so long secluded her from the world, and her fair hair, relieved by the action, fell in graceful curls over her neck and shoulders.

CHAPTER VII.

Thy numbers, jealousy, to naught were fixed,

Sad proof of thy distressful state;

Of differed themes thy varying song was mixed,

And now it courted love-now raving called on hate.
COLLINS'S ODE TO THE PASSIONS.

IMMEDIATELY after the decision of the council had been pronounced, Matilda was consigned to the ambassadors of her brother Edgar, who conveyed her with all due honor to a religious house in Bermondsey, where it was decided she should remain till the period of her marriage. As soon as the royal maiden reached her cell, she threw herself upon her knees in gratitude to heaven, that the projects of her stern aunt had been defeated, the incubus which had weighed so heavily upon her young heart had been removed: she was free, free from the ominous veil which for so many years had clouded her dreams of happinessfree to yield to the dictates of her heart, the impulse of nature, and give her hand where she had so long in secret bestowed her affections; the captive, who after long years of suffering hears the dungeon-door unbarred, could not have felt more grateful than the descendant of the immortal Alfred did, at thus unexpectedly obtaining possession of her liberty.

The words of thanksgiving had scarcely expired upon her lips, when the door of her cell was slowly opened. Matilda turned, expecting to meet her lover: to her surprise and ill-disguised terror, the visitor proved to be her old persecutor, the abbess.

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Matilda," said the recluse, "I come to bid you farewell! In this world we shall never meet again—our paths are different: yours leads you to a court, and the thorns which beset a crown— mine to the cloister and its peaceful calm. I would not willingly," she added, "part with my sainted sister's child in anger!" There was something so unusual in the accents of affection

artfully assumed by the speaker, that the heart of the princess was touched; she forgot in an instant the long persecution she had endured at the hands of her aunt, and freely forgave her.

"Forgive me," she said, "that I have disappointed your wishes and expectations; but it is not my fault that my heart recoils at the life of monotony and seclusion to which you would have led me! My sainted parent was both a wife and mother-we may yet serve heaven, and fulfil the ends of our creation!"

"Her husband," replied the abbess, "loved her, and if he was not worthy of such a treasure, at least was faithful to her; but heaven forgive me!" she added, with a look of commiseration; "why do I speak of these things? You will learn them from other lips soon enough for your happiness, I fear!"

From the deep seclusion in which she had been reared, Matilda was an utter stranger to the immoral conduct of her future husband, who had more than twenty illegitimate, but acknowledged children, by his various mistresses-one of whom was the fair Nesta, the daughter of the Prince of Wales, who for a long time held possession of his heart.

For the first time in her life a pang of jealousy wrung the bosom of the princess. With tearful eyes and a broken voice, she entreated of her relative to proceed.

if

"No, no!" replied Christina; "you will pay more credence, you hear the tale from other lips than mine! But when you find that Henry Beauclerc loves another-that in Matilda Atheling he woos the descendant of Alfred, to strengthen his claim to the crown he has usurped, and not the object of his affection -you will judge better of the relative who would have saved you from the degradation of becoming his wife!"

"I!" exclaimed Matilda, indignantly; "I the wife of such a man! Oh, never-never! The veil, the cloister, the tomb itself, were preferable to such a doom! Aunt," she continued, 'you do but assert this to wound me-to add one torture more to the many you have inflicted on your sister's orphan child! Say so, and I will forgive you-bless you-and never shall harsh word or unkind thought be coupled with your name!