with which she listened to the Queen's commands, betrayed how little
our best endeavors can pave the way for sorrow. Isabella spoke gently
and kindly indeed, but so decisively, there was no mistaking the
meaning of her words: she had waited, she said, till time had restored
not only health and strength, but some degree of tranquillity to the
heart, and elasticity to the mind. That, as a Jewess, Marie must have
long known, the Queen could not continue favor; that she was, in fact,
acting without a precedent in thus permitting the attendance of an
unbeliever on her person, or appearance in her court; but that she had
so acted, believing that when perfectly restored to sense and energy,
Marie would herself feel the necessity, and gladly embrace the only
return she required--a calm deliberation of the Catholic faith, and,
as a necessary consequence, its acceptance. She therefore desired that
Marie would devote herself to the instructions of a venerable monk
(Father Denis by name), whom she had selected for the task. That
from that day Marie would not be called upon for either service or
attendance on the Queen, but to devote her whole mind and energies to
the task proposed; and that when Father Denis brought her information
that Marie accepted the cross, that very hour she should resume
her place in Isabella's court, and be the dearest, most cherished
there!--be publicly acknowledged as the inheritrix of her husband's
vast possessions, and a future of love and joy would shine before her,
so bright as to banish even the memories of the stormy past.

Marie would have replied, but Isabella, with gentle firmness, refused
to hear her. "I demand nothing now," she said, "but obedience. A
willing heart, and open mind, are all you need bring with you to your
task: the father's holy lessons, blessed with God's grace, will do
the rest. I cannot believe that all the kindness and affection I have
shown have been so utterly without effect, that thou too wilt evince
the ungrateful obstinacy, so unhappily the characteristic of thy
blinded people. If banishment from our presence be a source of sorrow,
which I do believe it is, the term of that banishment rests entirely
with thyself. The sooner we can hail the child of the Virgin, even as
thou art now of our affections, the greater share of happiness wilt
thou bestow upon us and upon thyself. We have heard that nought but
harshness and severity can have effect on thy hardened race. It may
be