us design--happily prevented.
And I would therefore say to you, shut out all feelings for him from
your heart. The man who raises his hand against his sovereign cuts off
by the act all ties of kindred and love. Affection is changed to
abhorrence; and such detestation does his horrible offence inspire, that
those of his own blood are bound to shun him, lest he derive comfort and
consolation from their presence. Thus considered, you are no longer his
daughter, for he has himself severed the links between you. You no
longer owe him filial duty and regard, for to such he is no more
entitled. Leave him to his fate; and, if possible, for ever obliterate
his memory from your breast."

"You counsel what I can never perform, honourable Sir," replied Aveline;
"and were he even branded like Cain, I could not shut my heart towards
him. Nothing can make me forget that I am his daughter. That his
offence will be dreadfully expiated, I do not doubt; but if I can
alleviate his sufferings in any way, I will do so; and I will never
cease to plead for mercy for him. And O, honourable Sir! you regard his
offence in a darker light than it deserves. You treat him as if he had
actually accomplished the direful purpose attributed to him; whereas,
nothing has been proven against him beyond the possession of a weapon,
which he might keep about his person for self-defence."

"The plea you urge is futile, maiden," rejoined Sir Thomas; "he is
judged out of his own mouth, for his own lips have avowed his criminal
intention."

"Still, it was but the intention, honourable Sir!"

"In such cases, the intention is equal to the crime--at least in the
eyes of law and justice. No plea will save Hugh Calveley. Of that rest
assured."

"One plea may be urged for him, which, whether it avail or not, is the
truth, and shall be made. It is painful to speak of my father as I must
now do; but there is no help for it. Of late years he has been subject
to strange mental hallucinations, which have bordered close upon
madness, if they have not reached that terrible point. Nocturnal vigils,
fastings, and prayers have affected his health. He has denied himself
sufficient rest, and has only partaken of food barely sufficient to
sustain nature, and no more. The consequence has been that strange
fancies have troubled his brain; that at dead of night, when alone in
his chamber, he has imagined that visions have appeared to him; that
voices have spoken--awful voices--ta