He
knew it all ere he was taken from me, and forgave and loved me still;
and, oh! had he been but spared, even memory itself would have lost
its power to sting. His trust, his love, had made me all--all his
own!"
"I believe thee, my poor child; but how came it that, loving Stanley,
thy hand was given to Morales?"
For the first time, the dangerous ground on which she stood flashed on
the mind of Marie; and her voice faltered as she answered--"My father
willed it, Madam."
"Thy father! And was he of thy faith, yet gave his child to one of
us?"
"He was dying, Madam, and there was none to protect his Marie. He
loved and admired him to whom he gave me; for Ferdinand had never
scorned nor persecuted us. He had done us such good service that my
father sought to repay him; but he would accept nothing but my hand,
and swore to protect my faith--none other would have made such
promise. I was weak, I know, and wrong; but I dared not then confess I
loved another. And, once his wife, it was sin even to think of Arthur.
Oh, Madam! night and day I prayed that we might never meet, till all
of love was conquered."
"Poor child," replied Isabella, kindly. "But, since thou wert once
more free, since Stanley was cleared of even the suspicion of guilt,
has no former feeling for him returned! He loves thee, Marie, with
such faithful love as in man I have seldom seen equalled; why check
affection now?"
"Alas! my liege, what may a Jewess be to him; or his love to me, save
as the most terrible temptation to estrange me from my God?"
"Say rather to gently lure thee to Him, Marie," replied Isabella,
earnestly.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363