But a ceremonial more joyous than a betrothal—more solemn than a burial, occasioned the removal of the court to Feschamp. ' From the day of Harold's death, Cicely his betrothed, devoted herself to the cloister. Her father had bestowed a princely dower upon the convent of her choice, and fixed the day of her profession upon the high festival of Easter. At the close of the lenten fast, she quitted the scene of her childish pleasures, gazed a last adieu on the hills, vales and streams, over which the early spring of that bright climate was casting its mellow sheen—distributed alms among the mendicant crowds that thronged her route, and bade a kind farewell to the multitudes, that flocked from every village and hamlet, to invoke the blessing of heaven upon her holy purpose. Adela stood again in the old abbey of Feschamp, lis-tening to the joyous sound of the matin chime, but neither the happy associations awakened by the place and hour, nor the warm breath of early love could charm the sadness from her heart. She had entered the dark cloister, and conducted Cicely from her weary vigil beside the holy relics, to wreathe her dark locks with jewels and gold, and array her fair form for the last time in the garb of a princess. "With the selfish-ness of affection, she suffered none but Maude to share the pious task. Fast fell her tears as the whispered sounds of her sister's devotions forced upon her an appalling sense of the final separation. The convent bell had scarce ceased its summons, ere a splendid concourse filled the galleries, and thronged the aisles of the Abbey to witness the holy bridal. Proudly and painfully beat the heart of the king, as his saintly daughter leaned upon his breast—twined her soft arms lovingly about his neck—and imprinted her last kiss upon his cheek ; but sympathetic tenderness overmastered all other emotions, as with gentle force he drew her from the last fond embrace of her weeping mother, and the con- ADELA. 41