hou hast wooed this maiden to be the wife of thy
bosom. In the dark roll of destiny it is written--so spake the unclean
spirit--that if thou shouldest wed, a son springing from thy loins
shall sit upon the throne of this unhappy realm. He shall govern the
people righteously, every one under his own vine and his own fig-tree,
none daring to make them afraid. Surely it would not be a vain and an
evil thing should the maiden be----Yet--this is my temptation. Get
thee behind me, Satan. May the thought and the folly of my heart be
forgiven me! No! proud and cruel persecutor, this maiden is a pearl of
rare price which thou shalt not win--a chosen one who hath had grace
given unto her above measure, even above that vouchsafed unto me. I do
loathe and abhor myself for the iniquity of my heart, and the
unsubdued carnality of my spirit."

"Your Highness had need of great meekness and patience to endure this
grievous outpouring," said Chisenhall to the silent and bewildered
Prince. "Shall I thrust him through, and make sure of his fidelity?"

"Hurt him not," said his Highness to this effectual admonisher unto
secrecy. "And what if I should not wed?" continued he, addressing the
divine, and at the same time looking tenderly on the damsel.

"To this point too was the prophecy accordant. The sceptre shall
nevertheless be given to one of thy race; thy sister's son shall carry
down the line of kings to this people; and the Lord's work shall still
prosper. Now, daughter of many prayers--for I have yearned over thee
with more than a father's love--choose thee without constraint this
day. Thou hearest the words of this prophecy: wilt thou be the mother
of kings, or the lowly and despised follower of God's heritage?"

"I will not grasp the bubble of ambition. It bursts--a hollow vapour
when possessed. Let me choose rather to suffer affliction with the
people of God than obtain all the treasures of Egypt. But tempt me not
again, for my soul cleaveth to the dust--flesh and blood shrink from
the trial!"

She sobbed aloud, and threw herself on the old man's neck, who
scarcely refrained from joining in her tears.

"Thou hast come forth as gold from the furnace--thou hast kept the
faith, and holden fast thy profession," said the divine, with a glance
of triumph. Marian held out her hand to the Prince, who grasped it
with fervour. She seemed more like to some holy and heavenward thing
than a denizen of this polluted earth--more like a type