“And now, two by two, came the sisters of the holy shrine, and the armed men made way as, with trailing garments and veiled faces, they swept along into the very lists.
“At that moment one from among them left her sisters, and, with a slow, majestic pace, paused not till she stood right between the brother foes.
“‘Lord Edward Warbeck,’ she said in a hollow voice, that curdled up his dark spirit as she spoke, ‘is it thus thou wouldst prove thy love, and maintain thy trust over the fatherless orphan that thy sire bequeathed to thy care? Shall I have murder on my soul?’
“At that question she paused, and those who heard it were struck dumb, and shuddered.
“‘The murder of one man by the hand of his own brother! Away, Warbeck!—I command!’
“‘Shall I forget thy wrongs, Leoline?’ said Warbeck.
“‘Wrongs! they are forgiven, they are no more. And thou, Sir Charles—(here her voice faltered)—thou, does thy conscience smite thee not—wouldst thou atone for robbing me of hope by barring against me the future? Wretch that I should be, could I dream of mercy—could I dream of comfort—if thy brother fell by thy sword in my cause? Sir Charles, I have pardoned thee, and blessed thee and thine. Once, perhaps, thou didst love me; remember how I loved thee—cast down thine arms.’
“Sir Charles gazed at the veiled form before him.
“Where had the soft Leoline learned to command?
“He turned to his brother.