that is how half the robberies are committed. Constance is worked out in darker colours than Scott often uses for his feminine portraits. Our sex, at least, ought to be grateful to him, for how divine is the faith he holds in all that is good in us! Even with Constance, how much the soul is "subdued by pity!"—how is the horror relieved by beauty! I know no description conveying such an idea of exquisite loveliness, as that of Constance before her judges:—
"Her sex a page's dress belied,
Obscured her charms, but could not hide.
A monk undid the silken band,
That tied her tresses fair;
And down her slender form they spread,
In ringlets rich and rare.
When thus her face was given to view,
Although so pallid was her hue,
It did a ghastly contrast bear
To those bright ringlets glistering fair:
Her look composed, and steady eye,
Bespoke a matchless constancy;
And there she stood, so calm and pale,
That, but her breathing did not fail,
And motion slight of eye and head.
And of her bosom, warranted
That neither sense nor pulse she lacks,
You might have thought a form of wax,
Wrought to the very life, was there,
So still she was, so pale, so fair."
It is wonderful how much Scott contrives to suggest to the imagination. The above picture brings
