e Queen was then sitting in a posture of deep meditation;
but she looked up, as a young girl answered the summons, and then
turned towards her Sovereign.

"Well, Catherine?"

"Royal madam, a page, from his Grace the King, craves speech of Donna
Marie."

"Admit him then."

The boy entered, and with a low reverence advanced towards Marie.
She looked up in his face bewildered--a bewilderment which Isabella
perceived changed to a strong expression of mental torture, ere he
ceased to speak.

"Ferdinand, King of Arragon and Castile," he said, "sends, with all
courtesy, his royal greeting to Donna Marie Henriquez Morales, and
forthwith commands her attendance at the solemn trial which is held
to-morrow's noon; by her evidence to confirm or refute the charge
brought against the person of Arthur Stanley, as being and having been
the acknowledged enemy of the deceased Don Ferdinand Morales (God
assoilize his soul!) and as having uttered words of murderous import
in her hearing. Resolved, to the utmost of his power, to do justice to
the living as to avenge the dead, his royal highness is compelled thus
to demand the testimony of Donna Marie, as she alone can confirm or
refute this heavy and most solemn charge."

There was no answer; but it seemed as if the messenger required
none--imagining the royal command all sufficient for obedience--for he
bowed respectfully as he concluded, and withdrew. Marie gazed after
him, and her lip quivered as if she would have spoken--would have
recalled him; but no word came, and she drooped her head on her hands,
pressing her slender fingers strongly on her brow, as thus to bring
back connected thought once more. What had he said? She must appear
against Stanley--she must speak his doom? Why did those fatal words
which must condemn him, ring in her ears, as only that moment spoken?
Her embroidery fell from her lap, and there was no movement to replace
it. How long she thus sat she knew not; but, roused by the Queen's
voice uttering her name, she started, and looked round her. She
was alone with Isabella; who was gazing on her with such unfeigned
commiseration, that, unable to resist the impulse, she darted
forwards, and sinking at her feet, implored--

"Oh, madam--gracious madam! in mercy spare me this!"

The Queen drew her tenderly to her, and said, with evident emotion--

"What am I to spare thee, my poor child? Surely thou wouldst not
withhold aught that can convict thy husband's mur