was set upon a Granville's love, fair Sir Bevil of Stowe, the flower of
the Cornish chivalry--that noble gentleman! that valorous knight! He was
her star. And well might she wait upon his eyes; for he was the garland
of the west--the loyal soldier of a sainted king. He was that stately
Granville who lived a hero-life, and died a warrior's death!

Now there was signal made of banquet in the halls of Stowe, of wassail,
and the dance. The messengers had sped, and Alice of the Lea would be
there. Robes, precious and many, were unfolded from their rest, and the
casket poured forth jewel and gem, that the maiden might stand before
the knight victorious! It was the day--the hour--the time. Her mother
sate by her wheel at the hearth. The page waited in the hall. She came
down in her loveliness into the old oak room, and stood before the
mirrored glass. Her robe was of woven velvet, rich, and glossy, and
soft; jewels shone like stars in the midnight of her raven hair, and on
her hand there gleamed, afar off, a bright and glorious ring! She {226}
stood--she gazed upon her own countenance and form, and worshipped! "Now
all good angels succour thee, dear Alice, and bend Sir Bevil's soul!
Fain am I to see thee a wedded wife, before I die! I yearn to hold thy
children on my knee! Often shall I pray to-night that the Granville
heart may yield! Thy victory shall be my prayer!"

"Prayer!" was the haughty answer; "with the eyes that I see in that
glass, and this vesture meet for a queen, I lack no doubting prayer!"

Saint Mary shield us! Ah words of evil soul! There was a shriek--a
sob--a cry: and where was Alice of the Lea? Vanished--gone. They had
heard wild tones of sudden music in the air. There was a rush--a beam of
light--and she was gone, and that for ever! East sought they her, and
west, in northern paths and south; but she was never more seen in the