Wilton innocent of treason, how innocent, these letters alone can tell,
and I now give them to the sacred care of the Abbess of St. Hilda. Guard
them with your life, till they rest in the hands of the King."

She paused, gathered voice and strength and proceeded:

"The Lady Clare hated the name of Marmion, mourned her dishonored lover,
and fled to the convent of Whitby. The King, incensed at her action,
declared she should be his favorite's bride even though she were a nun
confessed. Marmion was sent to Scotland and I, cast off, determined to
plan a sure escape for Clare and for myself. This false monk, whom you
are about to condemn with me, promised to carry to Clare the drugs by
means of which she would soon have been the bride of heaven. His
cowardice has undone us both, and I now reveal the story of the crime,
that none may wed with Marmion, that his perfidy may be made known to
the King, who, when he reads these letters, will see his favorite
deserves the headsman's axe. Now, men of death, do your worst. I can
suffer and be still.

"'And come he slow, or come he fast,
It is but death who comes at last.'"

The old Abbot raised his sightless eyes to heaven and said:

"'Sister, let thy sorrows cease;
Sinful brother, part in peace!'"

Up from the direful place of doom, to the light of day and to the fresh
air, passed those who had held this awful trial. Shrieks and groans
followed the winding steps. The peasant who heard the unearthly cries