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His noble house,—his brave and stainless name:— He must escape his doom,—and I my shame."   Long hours past by, she stirr'd not from her place, A very statue, with that cold set face, Save that red flushes came at each light sound, While the wild eyes glanced fearfully around; But still she moved not, spoke not,—such distress Seeks no distraction from its wretchedness. There rose loud voices in the outer hall:— She nerves her with despair, she will know all: Her ear, acute with agony, can hear A name at once so dreaded and so dear:— "Yes, Lady, he is guilty!—" but no more:— They raise her senseless from the marble floor. Long did it last, that stony trance like death; She roused, but scarce it seem'd with mortal breath.