no crown upon which devils have
laid a spell. I wish no royal robe that has been dyed crimson with the
blood of my beloved."

"She is still in the delirium of her anguish," muttered the earl, as
he contemplated the pale, trembling woman who had now sunk again to
her knees, and was staring straight before her with eyes bewildered
and stretched wide open. But the looks of the earl remained cold and
unmoved, and not the least compassion was aroused in him for his poor
daughter, now penetrated with anguish.

"Arise," said he, in a hard, steelly voice. "The Church, by my mouth,
commands you to serve her as you have vowed to do; that is to say, with
glad heart and a sense of your reliance on God; that is to say, with
smiling lips and a serene, beaming eye, as becomes a disciple inspired
by faith, and as you have sworn to do in the hands of our lord and
master, Ignatius Loyola."

"I cannot! I cannot!" moaned she, in a low tone. "I cannot be glad at
heart when despair, like a wild boar, is rending my heart; I cannot
command my eye to shine when my eyes are dimmed with tears of anguish.
Oh, have pity, have compassion! Remember that you are my father; that I
am your daughter--the daughter of a wife whom you loved, and who would
find in the grave no rest if she knew how you are racking and torturing
me. My mother, my mother, if thy spirit is near me, come and protect me.
Let thy mild looks overshadow my head, and breathe a breath of thy love
into the heart of this cruel father, who is ready to sacrifice his child
on the altar of his God."

"God has called me," said the earl, "and, like Abraham, I too will learn
to obey. But I will not adorn my victim with flowers, but with a royal
crown. I will not plunge a knife into her breast, but will put a golden
sceptre into her hand and say: Thou art a queen before men, but before
God be thou a faithful and obedient servant. Thou hast all to command.
But the holy Church, to whose service thou hast consecrated thyself, and
who will bless thee if thou art faithful, who will dash thee in pieces
with her curse if thou darest deal treacherously, she commands thee. No,
you are not my daughter, but the priestess of the Church, consecrated
to her holy service. No, I have no sympathy with your tear's and this
anguish, for I see the end of these sorrows, and I know that these tears
will be as a diadem of pearls about your temples. Lady Jane Douglas, it
is the saintly Loyola who sends you his comm