Constance's previous existence so vividly to mind! The fugitive nun is again beneath the sway from whence she once fled:—she fled, timid, trusting, and hopeful; the beating heart, impatient of restraint, and confident of happiness—the lurking daring shown in the very escape; and the native courage in the resolve that could brave all the terrors of superstition: time passes on—
"For three long years I bow'd my pride,
A horse-boy in his train to ride."
Here again the spirit of determination is shown; Constance will not dwell alone, apart—
"Within some lonely bower."
No; she will keep at her lover's side—in the wide and weary world she has nothing to do but to wait upon "Marmion's steps. But even that haughty spirit has its sad weak moments: Sir Hugh has
""Often mark'd his cheeks were wet
With tears he fain would hide."
It is a cruel proof of the want of generosity in human nature, that an affection too utterly self- sacrificing always meets with an evil return. The obligation for which we know there is no requital becomes a burden hard to be borne; we take refuge in ingratitude. Secondly, the conscience is never quite without
""That shuddering chill
Which follows fast on deed of ill;"
