triumphed?"

As he spoke, he had risen gently, and wound his arms around her not
reluctant form: her head reclined upon his bosom; her hand was surrendered
to his; and his kiss stole softly and unchidden to her cheek. At that
instant, the fate of both hung on a very hair. How different might the
lot, the character, of each have been, had Constance's lips pronounced the
words that her heart already recorded! And she might have done so; but as
she raised her eyes, the same object that had before affected Godolphin
came vividly upon her, and changed, as by an electric shock, the whole
current of her thoughts. Full and immediately before her was the picture
of her father. The attitude there delineated, so striking at all times,
seemed to Constance at that moment more than ever impressive, and even
awful in the _livingness_ of its command. It was the face of Vernon in
the act of speech--of warning--of reproof; such as she had seen it often
in private life; such as she had seen it in his bitter maledictions on his
hollow friends at the close of his existence: nay, such as she had seen
it,--only more fearful, and ghastly with the hues of death,--in his last
hours; in those hours in which he had pledged her to the performance of
his revenge, and bade her live not for love but the memory of her sire.

With the sight of the face rushed upon her the dark and solemn
recollections of that time and of that vow. The weakness of love vanished
before the returning force of a sentiment nursed through her earliest
years, fed by her dreams, strengthened by her studies, and hardened by the
daring energies of a nature lofty yet fanatical, into the rule, the end,
nay, the very religion of life! She tore herself away from the surprised
and dismayed Godolphin; she threw herself on her knees before the picture;
her lips moved rapidly; the rapid and brief prayer for forgiveness was
over, and Constance rose a new being. She turned to Godolphin, and,