ood right before the old woman, who seemed
equally surprised, though more dismayed, at the sight of Montreal.

"I have sought thee for years," said the Knight, first breaking the
silence; "years, long years,--thy conscience can tell thee why."

"Mine, man of blood!" cried the female, trembling with rage or fear;
"darest thou talk of conscience? Thou, the dishonourer--the robber--the
professed homicide! Thou, disgrace to knighthood and to birth! Thou,
with the cross of chastity and of peace upon thy breast! Thou talk of
conscience, hypocrite!--thou?"

"Lady--lady!" said Montreal, deprecatingly, and almost quailing beneath
the fiery passion of that feeble woman, "I have sinned against thee and
thine. But remember all my excuses!--early love--fatal obstacles--rash
vow--irresistible temptation! Perhaps," he added, in a more haughty
tone, "perhaps, yet, I may have the power to atone my error, and wring,
with mailed hand, from the successor of St Peter, who hath power to
loose as to bind--"

"Perjured and abandoned!" interrupted the female; "dost thou dream that
violence can purchase absolution, or that thou canst ever atone the
past?--a noble name disgraced, a father's broken heart and dying curse!
Yes, that curse, I hear it now! it rings upon me thrillingly, as when I
watched the expiring clay! it cleaves to thee--it pursues thee--it shall
pierce thee through thy corselet--it shall smite thee in the meridian of
thy power! Genius wasted--ambition blasted--penitence deferred--a life
of brawls, and a death of shame--thy destruction the offspring of thy
crime!--To this, to this, an old man's curse hath doomed thee!--AND THOU
ART DOOMED!"

These words were rather shrieked than spoken: and the flashing eye, the
lifted hand, the dilated form of the speaker--the hour--the solitude of
the ruins around--all conspired to give to the fearful execration the
character of prophecy. The warrior, against whose undaunted breast a
hundred spears had shivered in vain, fell appalled and humbled to the
ground. He seized the hem of his fierce denouncer's robe, and cried, in
a choked and hollow voice, "Spare me! spare me!"

"Spare thee!" said the unrelenting crone; "hast thou ever spared
man in thy hatred, or woman in thy lust? Ah, grovel in the
dust!--crouch--crouch!--wild beast as thou art! whose sleek skin and
beautiful hues have taught the unwary to be blind to the talons that
rend, and the grinders that devour;--crouch, that the foot of