She was alone with Isabella; who was gazing on her with such unfeigned commiseration, that, unable to resist the impulse, she darted forwards, and sinking at her feet, implored-- "Oh, madam--gracious madam! in mercy spare me this!" The Queen drew her tenderly to her, and said, with evident emotion-- "What am I to spare thee, my poor child?
Surely thou wouldst not withhold aught that can convict thy husband's murderer?
Thou wouldst not in mistaken mercy elude for him the justice of the law ?" "No--no," murmured Marie; "let the murderer die; but not Stanley! Oh, no--no; he would not lift his hand against my husband.

Who says he slew him?
Why do they attach so foul a crime to his unshadowed name?
Let the murderer die; but it is not Arthur: I know it is not.

Oh, do not slay him too!" Marie knew not the wild entreaty breathing in her words: but the almost severely penetrating gaze which Isabella had fixed upon her, recalled her to herself; a crimson flush mounted to cheek and brow, and, burying her face in the Queen's robe, she continued less wildly-- "Oh, madam, bear with me; I know not what I say.

Think I am mad; but oh, in mercy, ask me no question.

Am I not mad, to ask thee to spare--spare--him they call my husband's murderer?
Let him die," and the wild tone returned, "if he indeed could strike the blow; but oh, let not my lips pronounce his death-doom! Gracious Sovereign, do not look upon me thus--I cannot bear that gaze." "Fear me not, poor sufferer," replied Isabella, mildly; "I will ask no question--demand nought that will give thee pain to answer--save that which justice compels me to require.