though not strong enough, so to conquer
human nature, as to arm against love, returned with double force, as
sorrow after sorrow gathered round her, and there were none beside her
to whisper and strengthen, with the blessed truth that God afflicts
yet more in mercy than in wrath; and that his decrees, however fraught
with human anguish, are but blessings in disguise--blessings, sown
indeed with tears on earth, to reap their deathless fruit in heaven.

But though firmly believing all her suffering was deserved, aware that
when she first loved Arthur, the rebel-thought--"Why am I of a race so
apart and hated?" had very frequently entered her heart, tempting her
at times with fearful violence to give up all for love of man; yet
Marie knew that the God of her fathers was a God of love, calling even
upon the greatest sinner to return to him repentant and amending, and
that even as a little child such should be forgiven. He had indeed
proclaimed himself a jealous God, and would have no idol-worship, were
it by wood or stone, or, far more dangerous, of human love; and she
prayed unceasingly for strength to return to Him with an undivided
heart, even if to do so demanded not only separation from Stanley--but
a trial in her desolate position almost as severe--the loss of
Isabella's confidence and love.

Few words passed between Marie and her guardians; their manner was
kind and gentle, but intercourse between rigid Catholics and a
proclaimed Jewess, could not be other wise than restrained. From the
time that reason returned, the Queen had not visited her, doing actual
violence to her own inclinations from tire mistaken--but in that age
and to her character natural--dread that the affection and interest
she felt towards Marie personally, would lessen the sentiments of
loathing and abhorrence with which it was her duty to regard her
faith. Isabella had within herself all the qualifications of a martyr.
Once impressed that it was a religious duty, she would do violence to
her most cherished wishes, sacrifice her dearest desires, her best
affections, resign her most eagerly pursued plans--not without
suffering indeed, but, according to the mistaken tenets of her
religion, the greater personal suffering, the more meritorious was the
deed believed to be. This spirit would, had she lived in an age when
the Catholic faith was the persecuted, not the persecutor, have led
her a willing martyr to the stake; as it was, this same spirit led