loom, as fine as cambric, which she bleached on a grass plot not far from the castle. Six weeks and six days had now passed away; the handsome spinner had no presentiment of her impending fate, though the father, who became more melancholy as the time of the visit approached, threw out several hints, by narrating fictitious dreams, or by alluding to the fate of long-forgotton Wulfield. Still Adelaide was in high spirits, and believed that the state of her father’s health was the cause of his whimsical fancies. On the appointed day, she capered towards the bleaching turf, and spread her linen to imbibe the morning dew. After having attended to her bleaching, she looked leisurely around and saw a most beautiful train of knights and sqiures approaching. Not having yet made her morning toilet, she hid behind a rose-bush in full bloom, and peeped through its branches to see the magnificent cavalcade. The handsomest of the number, a tall and slender knight, with an open helmet, gallopped to the bush, addressing her in a soft voice:—“I see you—I am looking for you, my pretty love—do not hide yourself. Quickly mount with me, my pretty eagle’s bride.” Adelaide was thunderstruck at hearing these words. The amiable knight had pleased her very much, but the words
