"His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted.
Shame and dishonor sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it--
Never, O never!"
The melancholy sound ceased. The song was sad, and bitterly it fell on
the false-hearted Marmion. Well he knew that at his request the faithful
but misguided Constance had been taken to Lindisfarne to be punished for
crime committed through her mistaken love for him. As if he already saw
disgrace for himself and death for her, he drew his mantle before his
face, and bent his head upon his hands. Constance de Beverley at that
moment was dying in her cell.
The meanest groom in all the train could scarce have wished to exchange
places with the proud Marmion, could his thoughts have been known.
Controlling himself, and raising his head, he said:
"As you sang, it seemed that I heard a death knell rung in mine ear.
What is the meaning of this weird sound?"
Then for the first time the Palmer broke his silence, and said in reply:
"It foretells the death of a loved friend."
Utterance, for once, failed the haughty Marmion, whose pride heretofore
could scarcely brook a word even from his King. His glance fell, his
brow flushed, for something familiar in the tone or look of the speaker
so struck the false heart that he was speechless.
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