Year: 1868

ried to and fro, repeating the name of
the object of their search; but no voice
made answer. They seemed out of
place-those sombre-looking men--in
that fair and well-tended garden; for a
fairer never graced the shores of the
Mediterranean than that which lay be-
hind the grim old monastery of st.
Pierre.


The monastery itself was huge cas-
tellated edifce, built on high cliff over
hanging the sea, and situated in that de-
lightful portion of Southern France
which is known US Provence. At the
time of which we write-the year OF
grace 145O-the monks of St. Pierre
were the wealthiest body in the South of
France; and over them presided no less
parsonage than a mitred abbott; who
also extended his supremacy over three
other religious houses in that portion OF
the kingdom.


This abbot was in some respects We
ry remarkable man. Learned, yes, great
ly for those days-proud, naughty, am
bilious, and crafty, he was man born
for power, and one who would we'll adorn
any station to which lie mis- 1T be called.
He was in some way connected with the
royal family; and it may have been for
this reason, as well as for his great abil'
tiles, that he was suddenly and unexpec-
tedly summoned to attend the King at
Paris. His majesty was on theRve 'oi
despatching an embassy to the Court OF
Rome, upon business of great import
ance and there was no one in the king
dom whose ability, courage and patriot
ism the King had so much confidence o:
in the embodiment of these qualities, his
well beloved cousin, the Abbot of St
Pierre The abbot was not the man te
neglect so flattering a summons. SO he
made his preparations for his departule
with all speed and so much was he oc
cupied with the matter that he neglected
to appoint deputy-abbot (who shoulo
fill his place until his return until thu
moment of departure had fully arrived
The subject was one of importance; fo
the monks were turbulent set, and re
quired firm hand.


"What shall I do ?" cried the abbot il
a state of perplexity. There's brothe
CASTOR. But no-if I appoint him he'll
ruin the larder in fortnight. He's
glutton Brother Jacques is a wine
bibber. Brother Francois is thief, arlt
throughout the whole list l know not on
that can trust. Stay! Brother Am
brose, that melancholy young monk
whose heart they say was broken all TO


love of lady too high above him.
like the man. If any one in the monas
terv is honest, he it is, and he it shall be


And with this he bade the monks sum


mon brother Ambrose.


"Brother Ambrosen


The sound rang louder and loude


through the courtyard and garden, an


at length reused from his reyerie a pal


monk, who had been lying on the verg


of the cliff, gazing wistfully at the sea-


He silently followed his summoners, an


soon stood in the presence of the abbot


and before all the assembled monks b


was invested with the temporary author
: ity of the monastery, during the absenc
Y of it's lawful head.


The abbot departed, and Brother An
I brose at once entered upon his new dl
Q ties. The sadness which hitherto ha


marked his demeanor did not leave him
bit it was mingled with dignity that we
: became him, and, after all, the monk
. had no cause of complaint against him.


Not far from the monastery, and i
8 full sight of 1t, stood the castle of Coul
de St. Maur, who, about this time, r.
e turned from Paris to the home of his Fl


ther. He brought with him his youn
s wife, to whom be had been married abou
: two years. Report said the lady ":
= beautiful beyond description, and th'


the admiration her beauty extorted fro
l. the gay young lords of the capital ha
/ been one, if not the chief cause OF tt
: Counts sudden return home. The CouI


was old, and he had all the pride an
6 haughtiness of his race, of which he wi
. the last survivor The pair were chill
: less, and report said they were unhapr
In their married lie.


Brother Ambrose heard CT the Count
D. return, and his face grew pale as dea
3 as he listened to the tidings. He spoil
e to no one on the subject, but he mig
1t have been seen standing long hours upc


the monastery battlements that commal
: ded view of the Castle Of st. Mau
1t gazing wistfully and sadly at the gloon
r walls that shut in the beautiful but u
d happy wife.


A week passed away, and it was hi!
a. noon on the eighth day after the arriv
st of the lord of the neighboring CASTLE
: The Count,who was by no means sail
"A had not troubled himself about the no


brethren in his neighborhood; and t
in temporary abbot, who had the dignity
mol his order to maintain, had made up !
ar mind to refrain from visiting his lol
r. ship until that worthy had recognized t


duty which devolved upon him as tr
NJ SON of the Church, by calling at the me
IN IN astery to pay his respects to the head
IL IL the order. On the eighth day, howev
.b % there was great excitement among t
' holy brethren; and it was noised abo


among these pious recluses that
IL Countess de St. Maur was that day
y visit the monastery, for the purpose
its fulfilling the duty which her husband h
ne neglected. These pious recluses were
- high glee at the prospect of being al
lis to- behold the face of the lovely visit


when their hopes were blasted by the
,r- nouncement of their superior, who
to clared his intention of receiving the la
ey alone in the library of the establishme
as Her ladyship was coming, he said,
ler consult him upon matter of busine
NJ and it was her desire to see him alotfe


There was no little dissatisfacti
la. among the hooded brothers, but it
De- vain; for in due time the lady arriv
Ia accompanied by only a few domesti
nd whom she left in the porter's hall, 9
We was shown alone into the presence OF
", abbot.


tol Brother Ambrose was sitting at
les far end of the room; but he rose as


lady entered, and stood with his hal