and you are wedded to royalty!"

As Thomas Seyton slowly uttered the concluding part of his speech, he
observed, with indescribable uneasiness, the want of all expression in
his sister's countenance, the marble features remained calm and
imperturbable, and her only sign of attending to her brother's words was
a sudden pressure of both hands to her heart, as if to still its
throbbing, or as though under the influence of some acute pain, while a
stifled cry escaped her trembling lips as she fell back in her chair.
But the feeling, whatever it was, soon passed away, and Sarah became
fixed, rigid, and tranquil, as before.

"Sister!" cried Seyton, "what ails you? Shall I call for assistance?"

"'Tis nothing! Merely the result of surprise and joy at the unhoped-for
tidings you have communicated to me. At last, then, the dearest wish of
my heart is accomplished!"

"I was not mistaken," thought Seyton, "ambition still reigns paramount
in her heart, and will carry her in safety through this trial. Well,
sister," said he, aloud, "what did I tell you?"

"You were right," replied she, with a bitter smile, as she penetrated
the workings of her brother's thoughts, "ambition has again stifled the
voice of maternal tenderness within me!"

"You will live long and happily to cherish and delight in your
daughter."

"Doubtless I shall, brother. See how calm I am!"

"Ah, but is your tranquillity real or assumed?"

"Feeble and exhausted, can you imagine it possible for me to feign?"

"You can now understand the difficulty I felt in breaking this news to
you?"

"Nay, I marvel at it, knowing as you did the extent of my ambition.
Where is the prince?"

"He is here."

"I would fain see and speak with him before the ceremony." Then, with
affected indifference, she added, "And my daughter is also here, as a
matter of course?"

"She is not here at present; you will see her by and by."

"True, there is no hurry; but send for the prince, I entreat of you."

"Sister, I know not why, but your manner alarms me, and there is a
strangeness in your very looks as well as words!"

And Seyton spoke truly. The very absence of all emotion in Sarah
inspired him with a vague and indefinable uneasiness; he even fancied he
saw her eyes filled with tears she hastily repressed. But unable to
account for his own suspicions, he at once quitted the chamber.

"Now, then," said Sarah, "if I may but see and embrace my daughter, I
shall be satisfied.