ht to complain
of its scorn."

Hardened unbeliever as he was, Royston could have bowed himself there,
and worshiped at her feet. But he would not confess his admiration,
still less betray his triumph. He raised the little white hand that was
free gently to his lips. Not with more reverent courtesy could he have
done homage to an anointed queen.

"I wish I were worthier of you," he murmured, and no more was said then.

As they walked slowly homeward, the sullen clouds broke away from the
face of the sun; but a weatherwise observer could have told that the
truce was only treacherous. The tempest bided its time.

CHAPTER XIX.

It is not pleasant to stand by and assist at each step of an incantation
that draws down a star from heaven, or darkens the face of the moon. Let
us be content to accept the result, when it is forced upon us, without
inquiring too minutely into the process. Not with impunity can even the
Adepts gain and keep the secrets of their evil Abracadabra. The beard of
Merlin is gray before its time; premature wrinkles furrow the brow of
Canidia; though the terror of his stony eyes may keep the fiends at bay,
the death-sleep of Michael Scott is not untroubled; the pillars of
Melrose shake ever and anon as though an earthquake passed by, and the
monks cross themselves in fear and pity, for they know that the awful
wizard is turning restlessly in his grave.

As we are not writing a three-volume novel, we have a right, perhaps,
not to linger over this part of our story. For any one who likes to
indulge a somewhat morbid taste, or who happens to be keen about
physiology, there is daily food sufficient in those ingenious romances
_d'Outre-mer_.

It is hardly worth while speculating how far Cecil deluded herself when
she thought that she was safe in trusting to her own strength of
principle and to the generosity of Royston Keene. All this seems to me
not to affect the main question materially. Does it help us--after we
have yielded to temptation--that our resolves, when it first assailed
us, should have been prudent and sincere, if such a plea can not avert
the consequences or extenuate the guilt? The grim old proverb tells us
how a certain curiously tesselated pavement is laid down. Millions of
feet have trodden those stones for sixty ages, yet they may well last
till the Day of Judgment, they are so constantly and unsparingly
renewed.

It is more than rashness for any mortal to say to the strong,