ver did me wrong; one who, if living, is now an exile under
the ban of the King. I speak to clear the fair name of Ralph de Wilton,
and to accuse Lord Marmion of Fontenaye, the traitor, to whose false
words of love I listened when I left my veil and convent dear.

"Long, weary days, I bowed my pride, and humbled my honor, to ride as
squire to this false knight, who daily promised me marriage. To be his
slave, hoping to be his wife, I forfeited all peace on earth, all hope
beyond the grave; but when he met the betrothed of Ralph de Wilton, the
Lady Clare, when he learned of her vast wealth and broad lands, when he
saw her face more fair than mine, he foreswore his faith. I, Constance,
was beloved no more. It is an old story, often told.

"The King approved the scheme of Marmion. Vainly de Wilton pleaded his
right to the hand of Clare, and when all fair means were exhausted,
Ralph was accused of treason. By my woman's unworthy hand, at the
command of Marmion, was forged the papers which sealed de Wilton's fate.
The two men fought in mortal combat.

"'Their prayers are prayed,
Their lances in the rest are laid.'

"The result was told by the loud cry, 'Marmion! Marmion! De Wilton to
the block!' Justice seemed dead, for he, ever loyal in love and in
faith, was overthrown by the falsehearted. This packet will prove de
Wilton innocent of treason, how innocent, these letters alone can tell,
and I now give them to the sacred care of the Abbess of St. Hilda. Guard
them with your life, till they rest in the hands of the King."

She paused, gathered voice and strength and proceeded:

"The Lady Clare hated the name of Marmion, mourned her dishonored lover,
and fled to the convent of Whitby. The King, incensed at her action,
declared she should be his favorite's bride even though she were a nun
confessed. Marmion was sent to Scotland and I, cast off, determined to
plan a sure escape for Clare and for myself. This false monk, whom you
are about to condemn with me, promised to carry to Clare the drugs by
means of which she would soon have been the bride of heaven. His
cowardice has undone us both, and I now reveal the story of the crime,
that none may wed with Marmion, that his perfidy may be made known to
the King, who, when he reads these letters, will see his favorite
deserves the headsman's axe. Now, men of death, do your worst. I can
suffer and be still.

"'And come he slow, or come he fast,
It is but d