“Not that I did not love thee,” he said, “Marguerite! Not that I did not pardon thee thy brief inconstancy, caused as it was by evil arts of which we will say nothing now--since he who plotted them hath suffered even above his merits, and is, we trust, now pardoned! Not for these causes, nor for any of them, have I declined thine hand thus far; but that the king commanded, judging it in his wisdom best for both of us. Now Armand is gone hence; and let all doubt and sorrow go hence with him! Let all your tears, all my suspicions, be buried in his grave for ever! I take your hand, dear Marguerite--I take you as mine honored and loved bride--I claim you mine for ever!” Thus far the girl had listened to him, not blushingly, nor with a melting eye, nor with any sign of renewed hope or rekindled happiness in her pale features--but with cold, resolute attention. But now she put away his hand very steadily, and spoke with a firm, unfaltering voice. “Be not so weak!” she said; “be not so weak, Charles de La-Hirè--nor fancy me so vain! The weight and wisdom of years have passed above my head since yester morning: then was I a vain, thoughtless girl; now am I a stern, wise woman! That I have sinned, is very true--that I have betrayed thee, wronged thee! It may be, had you spoke pardon yesterday--it might have been all well! It may be it had been dishonor in you to take me to your arms; but if to do so had been dishonor yesterday, by what is it made honor now? No! no! Charles de La-Hirè--no! no! I had refused thee yesterday, hadst thou been willing to redeem me, by self-sacrifice, then, from the convent-walls; I had refused thee then, with love warming my heart toward thee--in all honor! Force me not to reject thee _now_ with scorn and hatred. Nor dare to think that Marguerite de Vaudreuil will owe to man’s compassion what she owes not to love! Peace, Charles de La-Hirè!--I say, peace! my last words to thee have been spoken, and never will I hear more from thee! And now, Sir King, hear thou--may God judge between thee and me, as thou hast judged! If I _was_ frail and fickle, nature and God made woman weak and credulous--but made man _not_ wise, to deceive and ruin her. If I sinned deeply against this baron de La-Hirè, I sinned not knowingly, nor of premeditation! If I sinned deeply, more deeply was I sinned against--more deeply was I left to suffer--even hadst thou heaped no more brands upon the burning! If to bear hopeless love--to pine with unavailing sorrow--to repent with continual remorse--to writhe with trampled pride!--if these things be to suffer, then, Sir King, had I enough suffered without thy _just_ interposition!” As she spoke, a bitter sneer curled her lip for a moment; but as she saw Henry again about to speak, a wilder and higher expression flashed over all her features: her form appeared to distend, her bosom heaved, her eye glared, her ringlets seemed to stiffen, as if instinct with life.