"once to be resolved," but to plunge into a chaos of small distracting fears. How much more must this be the case when the affection has been one of sacrifice and of dishonour! Constance must have watched for weary hours the slightest sign of change—she must have feared before she felt—expected long before it came—yet scarce believed when it did come. At length the fatal hour arrives; she knows that she is "betrayed and scorned." In the fearful solitude of Lindisfarne, how bitterly must she have numbered every sacrifice made to "that false knight and false lover!" Youth, innocence, hours of tender watchfulness, hope on earth, and belief in heaven—all these have been given for his sake, who leaves her to perish by a dreadful death—and, what is the worst sting of that death, leaves her for another. She has attempted the life of her rival, and failed. A darker doom yet remains; she will
"Give him to the headsman's stroke,
Although her heart that instant broke."
Marmion shall not live on with a fairer bride—that heart, which had been so unutterably precious to her, shall never be the resting-place of another. The fierce and daring love which has ruled her through life is with her even in death. She gave the fatal packet—
"But to assure her soul that none
Shall ever wed with Marmion."
VOL. II.K
