"The memory of hopes that are blighted, and wishes that were futile, presses heavily on me now," continued Konrad, whose brave spirit seemed to be completely broken; "and, at times, I feel nothing but despair."
"Ah, Konrad!" she replied, with a sickly attempt to smile, "in a few years we learn to laugh at the love of our youth, just as we do at an old-fashioned dress."
"With some it may be so, and 'tis a sad reflection; but, oh Anna! (pardon me repeating that well-loved name as of old,) in all my dreams of the future, I had so entwined our lives, and thoughts, and feelings, into one—I had so long viewed thee as my—my wife—that"——
"I must listen no more to this," said Anna, turning away with a reddening cheek.
"Thou art angry with me; but there was a time—and hast thou forgotten it quite?—when that word wife fell otherwise on thine ear. I trifle, lady. I have tidings to tell thee."
"I will not—I cannot—listen."
"For Heaven sake and your own, hear me!"
"This is alike sinful and insulting—this from the captain of my uncle's archers! Leave me, Konrad of Saltzberg!"
"By my past grief, by my blighted hope and present sorrow, I conjure thee, Anna, to hear me! I would speak to you of this man"——
"My husband?"