"
There was no answer; but it seemed as if the messenger required
none--imagining the royal command all sufficient for obedience--for he
bowed respectfully as he concluded, and withdrew. Marie gazed after
him, and her lip quivered as if she would have spoken--would have
recalled him; but no word came, and she drooped her head on her hands,
pressing her slender fingers strongly on her brow, as thus to bring
back connected thought once more. What had he said? She must appear
against Stanley--she must speak his doom? Why did those fatal words
which must condemn him, ring in her ears, as only that moment spoken?
Her embroidery fell from her lap, and there was no movement to replace
it. How long she thus sat she knew not; but, roused by the Queen's
voice uttering her name, she started, and looked round her. She
was alone with Isabella; who was gazing on her with such unfeigned
commiseration, that, unable to resist the impulse, she darted
forwards, and sinking at her feet, implored--
"Oh, madam--gracious madam! in mercy spare me this!"
The Queen drew her tenderly to her, and said, with evident emotion--
"What am I to spare thee, my poor child? Surely thou wouldst not
withhold aught that can convict thy husband's murderer? Thou wouldst
not in mistaken mercy elude for him the justice of the law?"
"No--no," murmured Marie; "let the murderer die; but not Stanley! Oh,
no--no; he would not lift his hand against my husband.
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