t, 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. "There is a thick veil between thy heart and thy God now;
let the love thou bearest this young Englishman be the blessed means
of removing it, and bringing thee to the sole source of salvation, the
Saviour Stanley worships. One word--one little word--from thee, and
thou shalt be Stanley's wife! His own; dearer than ever from the
trials of the past. Oh! speak it, Marie! Let me feel I have saved thee
from everlasting torment, and made this life--in its deep, calm joy--a
foretaste of the heaven that, as a Christian, will await thee above.
Spare Stanley--aye, and thy Sovereign--the bitter grief of losing thee
for ever!"

"Would--would I could!" burst wildly from the heart-stricken Marie;
and she wrung her hands in that one moment of intense agony, and
looked up in the Queen's face, with an expression of suffering
Isabella could not meet. "Would that obedience, conviction, could come
at will! His wife?--Stanley's. To rest this desolate heart on his? To
weep upon his bosom?--feel his arm around me?--his love protect me? To
be his--all his? And only on condition of speaking one little word?
Oh! why can I not speak it? Why will that dread voice sound within,
telling me I dare not--cannot--for I do not believe? How dare I take
the Christians's vow, embrace the cross, and in my heart remain a