which, every step in his career seemed to advance him, was it now to
be evermore reft from his heart, his existence, at the very moment
when he had deemed himself most secure of its rewards--when he most
needed its consolations? Hitherto, in that love he had lived in the
future--he had silenced the voice of the turbulent human passion by
the whisper of the patient angel, "A little while yet, and thy bride
sits beside thy throne!" Now what was that future! how joyless! how
desolate! The splendour vanished from Ambition--the glow from the
face of Fame--the sense of Duty remained alone to counteract the
pleadings of Affection; but Duty, no longer dressed in all the
gorgeous colourings it took before from glory and power--Duty stern,
and harsh, and terrible, as the iron frown of a Grecian Destiny.

And thus, front to front with that Duty, he sate alone one evening,
while his lips murmured, "Oh fatal voyage, oh lying truth in the hell-
born prophecy! this, then, this was the wife my league with the Norman
was to win to my arms!" In the streets below were heard the tramp of
busy feet hurrying homeward, and the confused uproar of joyous wassail
from the various resorts of entertainment crowded by careless
revellers. And the tread of steps mounted the stairs without his
door, and there paused;--and there was the murmur of two voices
without; one the clear voice of Gurth,--one softer and more troubled.
The Earl lifted his head from his bosom, and his heart beat quick at
the faint and scarce heard sound of that last voice. The door opened
gently, gently: a form entered, and halted on the shadow of the
threshold; the door closed again by a hand from without. The Earl
rose to his feet, tremulously, and the next moment Edith was at his
knees; her hood thrown back, her face upturned to his, bright with
unfaded beauty, serene with the grandeur of self-martyrdom.