s:

"Thou leavest thy servants, Lord, To see if they be strong; But soon
thou dost afford Thy hand to lead them on."

These verses were not excellent--very far from it; but as it is well
known, the Puritans did not pique themselves upon their poetry.

While singing, Milady listened. The soldier on guard at her door
stopped, as if he had been changed into stone. Milady was then able to
judge of the effect she had produced.

Then she continued her singing with inexpressible fervor and feeling. It
appeared to her that the sounds spread to a distance beneath the vaulted
roofs, and carried with them a magic charm to soften the hearts of
her jailers. It however likewise appeared that the soldier on duty--a
zealous Catholic, no doubt--shook off the charm, for through the door
he called: "Hold your tongue, madame! Your song is as dismal as a 'De
profundis'; and if besides the pleasure of being in garrison here, we
must hear such things as these, no mortal can hold out."

"Silence!" then exclaimed another stern voice which Milady recognized as
that of Felton. "What are you meddling with, stupid? Did anybody order
you to prevent that woman from singing? No. You were told to guard
her--to fire at her if she attempted to fly. Guard her! If she flies,
kill her; but don't exceed your orders."

An expression of unspeakable joy lightened the countenance of Milady;
but this expression was fleeting as the reflection of lightning. Without
appearing to have heard the dialogue, of which she had not lost a word,
she began again, giving to her voice all the charm, all the power, all
the seduction the demon had bestowed upon it:

"For all my tears, my cares,
My exile, and my chains,
I have my youth, my prayers,
And God, who counts my pains."

Her voice, of immense power and sublime expression, gave to the rude,
unpolished poetry of these psalms a magic and an effect which the most
exalted Puritans rarely found in the songs of their brethren, and
which they were forced to ornament with all the resources of their
imagination. Felton believed he heard the singing of the angel who
consoled the three Hebrews in the furnace.

Milady continued:

"One day our doors will ope, With God come our desire; And if betrays
that hope, To death we can aspire."

This verse, into which the terrible enchantress threw her whole soul,
completed the trouble which had seized the heart of the young officer.
He opened the door quickly; and