And as for thy
boon: be it what it may, I grant it."
"Thou sayest so now, my liege; but when the hour to grant it comes,
every feeling will revolt against it; even thine, my Sovereign, kind,
generous, as thou art. Oh, Madam, thou wilt hear a strange tale
to-morrow--one so fraught with mystery and marvel, thou wilt refuse to
believe; but when the trial of to-morrow is past, then think on what
I say now: what thou nearest will be TRUE--true as there is a heaven
above us; I swear it! Do not look upon me thus, my Sovereign; I am not
mad--oh, would that I were! Dark, meaningless as my words seem now,
to-morrow they will be distinct and clear enough. And then--then,
if thou hast ever loved me, oh, grant the boon I implore thee now:
whatever thou mayest hear, do not condemn me--do not cast me wholly
from thee. More than ever shall I need thy protecting care. Oh, my
Sovereign--thou who hast taught me so to love thee, in pity love me
still!"
"Strange wayward being," said Isabella, gazing doubtingly on the
imploring face upturned to hers; "towards other than thyself such
mystery would banish love for ever; but I will not doubt thee. Darkly
as thou speakest, still I grant the boon. What can I hear of thee, to
cast thee from me?"
"Thou wilt hear of deceit, my liege," replied Marie, very slowly, and
her eyes fell beneath the Queen's gaze; "thou wilt hear of long years
of deceit and fraud, and many--many tongues will speak their scorn and
condemnation.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194