woman, had been reduced since her father's death, whose income was derived from a government situation, to comparative obscurity. Francis Clairfait professed the Protestant faith, the only circumstance which in Madame Ernach's eyes could tell against the match. But as her own husband had likewise been of the same creed, it might be supposed that her opposition would not be very formidable.

"Children have come to a pretty pass now-a-days!" ejaculated the lady. "Had my mother, when I was living under the parental roof, desired me not to make the pilgrimage, I should dutifully have obeyed her."

"But she was not so unreasonable," answered Francis Clairfait. "And I have never yet been," added Maria, in a whisper.

"True enough, child," interposed her mother. "Your poor fathermay the saints rest him, though I have my doubts of it-was as good a man, barring he was a heretic, and as kind a husband, barring his obstinacy, as could well be found. Recollect his obstinacy about these holy pilgrimages! calling them mummery, and all the unsaintly names that came uppermost." Here the lady devoutly crossed herself; her example was followed by the Italian, whilst a smile lurked in the gay blue eye of Francis Clairfait. "And never would he suffer you to go to the shrine, though I prayed my tongue out."

"And yet you object to it now," Francis was beginning to remonstrate; when the lady continued:

"I cannot accompany Maria, and she is a deal too"-handsome, she was going to add, but she checked herself in time-“light-headed to go without me."

"Make an effort, madame, and venture upon the journey," advised Clairfait.

"If ideas have advanced of late years, as you sometimes so ostentatiously inform me, the thoughtlessness of young men has not improved," retorted Dame Ernach, throwing her eyes upwards after a severe look at Francis. "Could anybody, arrived at a sober age, and in possession of their sober senses, imagine that, being the size I am, I could toil to Mariazell and not die upon the road? I once saw a human being die of a sun-stroke, Master Clairfait: perhaps you never did?"

"The good lady, Bravantor, has promised to take every careof me,' Maria ventured to remark.

"Pshaw to Dame Bravantor!" replied Madame Ernach, having no confuting argument at hand.

"My cousins, too, are going," continued Maria; but her sentence was suddenly cut short by the irascible dame.

"Cousins be smothered! And better for them, too, than to go dancing off to Mariazell by themselves."

"Three parts of the young women in Vienna are now making their preparations for departure," pleaded the good-humoured Austrian, "and Maria, never having been, is naturally anxious, as a devout Catholic

"There, there, Master Francis, you need not trouble yourself to throw ridicule on our faith. Devout Catholic!—well, so she is, and means to remain so."

"Indeed I used the words in no disrespectful sense," urged the young man.

"Perhaps not," answered the dame; "but I have not been tied to a

heretic hard upon thirty years to be ignorant now of their steadfast unbelief. You have no more faith in the miracles-no, nor, I verily believe, in the Virgin herself than you have in me."

"The less said the better, Master Francis. Let the matter drop. Maria is going-an obstinate girl will have her own way. I wish I had followed the example of my sister Teresa, who has been wise enough never to let a husband come between her and her own will; I should at least not have been plagued with Maria. She will think of my words when the ill comes over her that the journey will bring forth."

"But I don't see any ill in the matter," persisted Clairfait. "What ill or harm can there be in Maria's doing what thousands of others do?"

"The ill is in this, Francis Clairfait, that she goes in opposition to my will. And when a child wilfully disobeys a parent, no good will attend her. Mind, I tell it you beforehand. You are laughing, Master Francis! Perhaps when the evil has come, you will laugh on the other side of your mouth."

"Dear mamma," interrupted Maria, "if I thought my going could hurt you, or any one else, I would be locked in my room for a month rather than attempt it."

"Have the goodness to let the subject rest, Maria; you know your mind is made up. Do you still purpose going, Mr. Francis ?" "If Maria does. That is the only thing which takes me." "Jesu mend the irreligion of men!" ejaculated the lady, crossing herself. "You will enter upon this holy work-a pilgrimage to the image of the Virgin-an image which performs miracles-with no worthier motive than that of accompanying a pretty girl! Take care, young man, that your sinfulness is not in some way visited upon you." "There is no sinfulness to visit," answered Clairfait. "I don't pretend to go as a pilgrim, as a believer in the-the image and the miracles," he continued, cramming his handkerchief into his mouth to hide a laugh. "I shall go to take care of Maria, to shield her from harm."

"But you will kneel at the shrine ?" exclaimed the Italian, fiercely, his eyes shooting fire at Clairfait.

"Not unlikely. Is there any harm in that? It will not be the first time I have gone the pilgrimage and knelt there."

"It is these heretical unbelievers that bring down the displeasure of the saints upon us," hissed Romeli in the ear of Madame Ernach. "They join in our holy ceremonies but to stare and to ridicule. May the period that is to witness their extermination from the earth be hastened!"

"How

"Two can play at that wish, signor," laughed the Austrian. ever, we are content to let you alone, and your faith also, and to allow you as much space upon the earth as you can conveniently occupy. It would be but civil of you Catholics to accord us the same favours."

Romelli growled an answer of defiance, and at the same moment Francis was called out by some friends. Maria started up and approached

Romelli.

"Signor, put away this ill-humour, or I will not speak to you for a year to come."

"Leave me alone, Maria, and go to your chosen lover there."

"I will not leave you alone; and as to a chosen lover," answered she,

tossing back her curls, "I have not chosen anybody. I mean to live an old maid, like aunt Teresa. Jacopo! I hate sulky people. Look pleased again, if only to oblige me."

"You can wind me round your little finger, Maria," he whispered, looking positively beautiful as he gazed into her face, and passionately, but under the semblance of gallantry, retained and kissed her hands. "Beware how you abuse the power you have acquired over me, or provoke the jealousy that would surely set fire to my brain."

"And you go not this pilgrimage?"

"I would go to the end of the world with thee. Yet, Maria," he added, aloud, "neglect not your mother's warning."

"When a parent speaks, a child should listen and obey," interposed Madame Ernach. "Command from me has long been laid aside; but I implore you, Maria, once for all, give up the pilgrimage for this year."

"It is your mother who speaks to you," uttered the Italian-" the mother who gave you birth. By the sin of disobedience fell our first

parents."

"Do as I wish you, my child," repeated her mother, "and may all happiness henceforth be yours!"

"I must look forward to next year, then," sighed Maria, the tears gathering in her eye.

It was a bitter sacrifice. Few can tell with what eager excitement the Austrian girls look forward to the yearly pilgrimage to Mariazell.

"Believe me, child," resumed Madame Ernach, "it would be toil to you rather than pleasure. Leagues of weary way, the blistering sun, and the feet bared to the sharp and dusty road! You go on a barefooted pilgrimage! It would be but toil, child."

Oh, the contrast between youth and age! The old lady forgot how she once coveted the journey to the shrine, and looked forward to it as an oasis in the sandy path of life. The toilsome way, the sultry atmosphere, the naked feet-what cared she while her youth's companions shared them with her, and one she loved walked by her side? But now the early feelings were forgotten, and nought presented itself to her mind save the pain and the toil.

Romelli passed out of the cottage as four or five young girls entered, to show their prepared costume, and to criticise Maria's. With astonishment and incredulity they heard her mind was changed. Persuasions showered down upon her-pictures of the enjoyment they were about to realise—and the wavering girl once more besought her mother to forget the promise to remain she in her hasty fit of obedience had made, and no longer to oppose her departure.

It was the dusk hour of twilight, and the stars were shining in the heavens, when Jacopo Romelli re-entered the widow's house. Peering into the gloom which now pervaded the apartment, he could see no trace of the inmates he had left save Madame Ernach herself, who still occupied her seat near the window.

"Where is Maria ?" he demanded.

"Only stepped a few paces down the road with her two cousins," replied the lady.

"Have they been here? They are full of the pilgrimage, I suppose?" "Brimful. I cannot tell what possesses the girls-little fools!

If

they had a holy and religious motive in going I should be the first to start them off; but dress, singing, gossip, sweethearts-that is all that takes them to the shrine."

Romelli frowned an assent.

"It raises my ire in no measured degree," added the dame, "when I see this pilgrimage, which ought to be undertaken by none save the most rigid penitents and worshippers of the Virgin, made a pretext for fun and gallivanting. There's Maria, for instance-look how she is bent upon it, and why? For the sake of the prayers she will offer before the sacred image, think you, or just for the gossiping and gadding, and to listen to the soft words of Francis Clairfait?"

"The wilfulness of children

"But she is not going!" cried Romelli. "She is going," returned the dame. passes all belief, and Maria's obstinacy in particular-she is the model of her father for that. If they come back in a raging brain fever from the horrid heat, it will serve some of them right."

"Is Clairfait gone home?" questioned Romelli.

"Not he; he is with Maria. I hear their footsteps at a distance

"Good night, dame," said Romelli, as he strode out of the cottage. But a few yards from him came Clairfait and Maria. His arm was thrown round her, and they spoke in whispers. Romelli glided behind a tree that stood by the side of the house.

It is proverbial that listeners never hear much good of themselves, and though the present could not, perhaps, be termed a case in point (so far as words were concerned), the Italian heard something quite as unwelcome as words-a sound wonderfully like a kiss. Francis Clairfait, after seeing Maria within doors, walked past him with a quick step, humming a scrap of a love-song. Romelli drew back in his hidingplace, and waited. Meanwhile, Madame Ernach had closed and fastened the windows; but scarcely was the process complete, when a tapping came to one of them.

"Who is come at this untoward hour?" she exclaimed, wrathfully, as she opened the casement. "What, is it you, signor? What have you come bothering back for? Another minute, and I should have had my nightcap on. One had need to go to bed betimes to-night, I think, to be astir at cockcrow."

"I am only come to say good night to Maria," was his reply; "and to wish you a pleasant journey," he added, as the latter came forward to the window. "You are going, I hear?"

'Yes, I am going, signor," answered the happy girl, too full of excitement to remember her mother's anger.

"Mind that you come back safely, and with a whole heart, Maria,” he said, speaking as if in jest.

66

"Whole heart!" interrupted Dame Ernach, before Maria could reply; "let her come back with whole feet-that's a deal more to the purpose." Good-by," he said, taking Maria's hand, and bending his face towards hers, as if he would have proffered a kiss; but with a reserved manner, and crimsoned cheek, she drew back, and Signor Romelli turned away in the direction of Vienna.

II.

It was the twenty-sixth of July. At early dawn, long before the sun had risen, innumerable groups, old and young, male and female, wended their way from all parts of Vienna towards the Gothic cathedral, St. Stephen. Some passed into the church without stopping; others paused before the great gate, to read the imperial proclamation there affixed, appointing that day for the pilgrimage, and enjoining the devotees to pray before the shrine at Mariazell for the prosperity of the House of Hapsburg. Ere four o'clock the cathedral was filled to overflowing; many, besides the pilgrims, having entered to take part in the service. As the hour struck, the assembled priests, in their full canonicals, commenced the mass. The scene had a strange effect-passing strange upon a foreigner. The early day; the picturesque dresses of the pilgrims; the magnificent robes of the priests, the colours of which glittered in the early sun; the rich music of the chants; the thrown-up incense scattering its perfume to the cathedral, and the solemn reverence pervading the assemblage! Let us not marvel that the Catholics cling to their religion when its ceremonies are so calculated to enslave the

senses.

At the conclusion of mass the procession was formed. It was a long picturesque line, numbering little short of 3000 persons, separated into divisions by religious banners and crucifixes. Musical instruments, also, consisting chiefly of trumpets and kettle-drums, were scattered about it, at convenient distances, playing from time to time to cheer the weary steps of the wayfarers. And chanting hymns as they went, and carrying long staves entwined with flowers, the pilgrims began their toilsome march. Maria was placed under the care of Madame Bravantor and her husband by the old lady, Ernach, who had, after all, made a merit of necessity.

Mariazell is a small town in the Austrian dominions, situated in the province of Styria. It would be of no importance were it not for the shrine it contains, and this far-famed picture of the Virgin Mary, which have caused it to be noted and universally known. The image of the Virgin was found in a miraculous manner-that is, you know, said to be found-about the eighth or ninth century, from which time it has constantly attracted crowds of idolaters. As to the cures, wonders, and miracles it has been performing ever since, the New Monthly could not contain the account of half of them. Vienna, Upper and Lower Styria, Moravia, Silesia, the Tyrol, Bohemia, Carinthia, and, in fact, all parts of the Austrian Empire, whether near or distant, annually send forth their inhabitants, who wend their painful way over plain and mountain, to meet at the shrine and worship. The female equipment of the pilgrims is picturesque in the extreme, but it varies much in the different provinces, each of which has its distinctive costume.

It must not be thought that this is wholly a religious ceremony; much profanity mingles with it. Some years back the ladies of Gratz, the capital of Styria, and the vain Viennese, chose to dispute the palm of beauty. Their lovers, who had accompanied them to Mariazell, as of course they always do, took up the quarrel. Some violent encounters were the result, and the gentler sex themselves exercised their fair hands in the exciting, though not agreeable, pastime of scratching and tearing. To prevent a recurrence of these disorders, so