Jewess still?"

"Embrace the cross, and conviction will follow," replied the Queen.
"This question we have asked of Father Tomas, and been assured that
the vows of baptism once taken, grace will be found from on high; and
to the _heart_, as well as _lip_, conversion speedily ensue.
Forswear the blaspheming errors of thy present creed--consent to be
baptized--and that very hour sees thee Stanley's wife!"

"No, no, no!--Oh! say not such words again! My liege, my gracious
liege, tempt not this weak spirit more!" implored Marie, in fearful
agitation. "Oh! if thou hast ever loved me, in mercy spare me this!"

"In mercy is it that we do thus speak, unhappy girl." replied
Isabella, with returning firmness; for she saw the decisive moment had
come. "We have laid both alternatives before thee; it rests with thee
alone to make thine own election. Love on earth and joy in Heaven,
depends upon one word: refuse to speak it, and thou knowest thy doom!"

It was well, perhaps, for Marie's firmness, that the Queen's appealing
tone had given place to returning severity; it recalled the departing
strength--the sinking energy--the power once more to _endure!_ For
several minutes there was no sound: Marie had buried her face in her
hands, and remained--half kneeling, half crouching--on the cushion at
the Queen's feet, motionless as stone; and Isabella--internally as
agitated as herself--was, under the veil of unbending sternness,
struggling for control. The contending emotions sweeping over that
frail woman-heart in that fearful period of indecision we pretend not
to describe: again and again the terrible temptation came, to say but
the desired word, and happiness was hers--such intense happiness, that
her brain reeled beneath its thought of ecstasy; and again and again
it was driven back by that thrilling voice--louder than ever in its
call--to remain faithful to her God. It was a fearful contest; and
when she did look up, Isabella started; so terribly was its index
inscribed on those white and chiselled features.

She rose slowly, and stood before the Sovereign, her hands tightly
clasped together, and the veins on her forehead raised like cords
across it. Three times she tried to speak; but only unintelligible
murmurs came, and her lips shook as with convulsion. "It is over,"
she said at length, and her usually sweet voice sounded harsh and
unnatural. "The weakness is conquered, gracious Sovereign, condemn,
scorn, hate me as thou wil