forborne to seek, or to offer her the insult of consolation. He felt
that the shock should be borne alone, and yet he pined, he thirsted, to
throw himself at her feet.

Nursing these contending thoughts, he was aroused by a knock at his
door: he opened it--the passage was thronged by Leoline's maidens;
pale, anxious, weeping. Leoline had left the castle with but one
female attendant; none knew whither;--they knew too soon. From the
hall of Sternfels she had passed over in the dark and inclement night
to the valley in which the convent of Bornhofen offered to the weary of
spirit and the broken of heart a refuge at the shrine of God.

At daybreak the next morning, Warbeck was at the convent's gate. He
saw Leoline: what a change one night of suffering had made in that
face, which was the fountain of all loveliness to him! He clasped her
in his arms; he wept; he urged all that love could urge: he besought
her to accept that heart which had never wronged her memory by a
thought. "Oh, Leoline! didst thou not say once that these arms nursed
thy childhood; that this voice soothed thine early sorrows? Ah, trust
to them again and for ever. From a love that forsook thee turn to the
love that never swerved."

"No," said Leoline; "no. What would the chivalry of which thou art the
boast--what would they say of thee, wert thou to wed one affianced and
deserted, who tarried years for another, and brought to thine arms only
that heart which he had abandoned? No; and even if thou, as I know
thou wouldst be, wert callous to such wrong of thy high name, shall I
bring to thee a broken heart and bruised spirit? shalt thou wed sorrow
and not joy? and shall sighs that will not cease, and tears that may
not be dried, be the only dowry of thy bride? Thou, too, for whom all
blessings should be ordained? No, forget me; forget thy poor Leoline!
She hath nothing but prayers for thee."

In vain Warbeck pleaded; in vain he urged all that passion and truth
could urge; the springs of earthly love were for ever dried up in the
orphan's heart, and her resolution was immovable--she tore herself from
his arms, and the gate of the convent creaked harshly on his ear.

A new and stern emotion now wholly possessed him; though naturally mild
and gentle, he cherished anger, when once it was aroused, with the
strength of a calm mind. Leoline's tears, her sufferings, her wrongs,
her uncomplaining spirit, the change already stamped upon her face, a