others longer and more alarming, rendering Marie more and more
determined to keep her fatal secret from him; for it appeared to her
that any stronger emotion than customary would be followed by those
attacks; and as her love for him seemed to increase in intensity with
the anxiety his precarious health occasioned, so did her dread of
occasioning him aught of grief. But how fruitless are our best and
wisest resolutions! One little hour, and every thought was changed.




CHAPTER VI.

"Oh! praise me not--
Look gently on me, or I sink to earth
Not thus."

DE CHATILLON.


It was the custom of the inmates of the Vale of Cedars, once in every
year, and generally about the season of Michaelmas, to celebrate a
festival, which ordained the erection of a booth or tent of "branches
of thick trees," in which for seven days every meal was taken, and
greater part of the day (except the time passed in the little Temple)
was spent. Large branches of the palm and cedar, the willow, acacia,
and the oak, cut so as to prevent their withering for the seven days,
formed the walls of the tent; their leaves intermingling over head, so
as to form a shelter, and yet permit the beautiful blue of the heavens
to peep within. Flowers of every shade and scent formed a bordering