t

Emperor himself, as he stood at the head of the council table in the act of speaking. His calm, stern brow,-his piercing blue eye,-the firm determination of his mouth,— the paleness of his cheek,-all showed how much he had suffered; how much he had overcome; how much he was yet prepared to endure.

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My lords," said he, "nobles of Constantinople! barons, and knights, and esquires of the west! It is needless for me to say-what you see for yourselves— that the last scene of the tragedy is at hand. We who are here met, can bear, like men, to hear the truth. We do not deceive ourselves with any hope that to-morrow's resistance can be ultimately successful. But yet we shall defend ourselves to-morrow,-I am not less sure of you, than of myself, as if even now a European succour were in the mouth of the Dardanelles, and we had but to hold out the city till it could arrive. Nobles of Constantinople! it is we whom God has called by every tie of blood and honour to take care that, in its fall, this city shall not shame the glories of its earlier days. As in the life of a private man the last moments confirm its honour or its disgrace, as the behaviour of a few hours may tarnish past glory, or go far to redeem past shame, so it is with We shall soon be matter of history, equally with Justinian or Basil,-with Heraclius or Romanus. It is in our power yet to maintain their renown; it is in our power to show that the blood of martyrs and of warriors which has from age to age been poured forth for this city, has not been shed in vain. Or, if we are false to each other and to GOD, we may not only ourselves descend as traitors and cowards to all ages, but we may implicate many a glorious name in dishonour; and, so far as the spirits of the blest can grieve, we may cover them with sorrow, who have laid down their lives for us their posterity. This is the task, then, to which GoD calls us to-morrow; not to conquer,-which we cannot, -but to endure, which we can; and, by enduring, to win for ourselves immortal renown in this world, and, as I well trust, everlasting glory in that which is to come. Think, then, that to-morrow thousands of just men made perfect, who have departed from this very city to their

us.

reward, will be spectators of the conflict. Think that they will be ready to receive your spirits, and to carry them to their own happiness. Think that they are still invisibly with us,-nerving our arms, strengthening our hearts, putting wisdom into the weak-minded, and courage into the timorous; and that, as they are with us now, so to-morrow may we hope to be with them.

"And for you, barons and knights of Europe, if you have less stake in this last contest than we have, the more do we owe you for leaving your own halls to defend ours; the more merit may you claim from your labours, and, doubtless, the more reward. I may never again—I never shall again-be able to thank you for your zeal in this city's service: but what the Cæsar cannot repay, the KING of Kings will doubtless recompense. To you all, Varangians, Franks, Genoese, Barbarians, Venetians,to you, my Lord Acolyth, to you, Lord Great Hetæriarch, to you, Justiniani, to you, Galeotti,-I give my best thanks; to you also, Sir Conrad Wolfenstein, to you, Sir Fernando de Payva,-to each and to all of you. Whatever brave hearts and skilful arms could do, that have you done. The fate of the city was not to be averted: if it had been, your courage would have averted it. God has otherwise ordained, and to Him we submit.

"There remains but one thing for me more to say, and then I have done. If there be any here present that I have injured,-if there be any that I have offended, knowingly or ignorantly, if there be any who thinks that I have injured or offended him, then I ask that man's pardon, as heartily, as truly, as I shall ask my own at the throne of GOD before to-morrow's sun sets.'

Who can describe the scene that followed? Phranza, who noted it with no incurious eye, confesses that he could.not. The tears, the embraces, the mutual confession and forgiveness of wrongs; the cries to GOD for help; the firm resolve to resist to the very last; the sure trust in Providence; the determination that, if the Roman Empire should perish, its fall should not disgrace the iron hearts of the republic, nor its piety, the patient endurance of the martyrs-the high bearing of Frank and Varangian, the stern resolution of Byzantine cou

rage:-he, who was an eye-witness saw these things, but could not describe them; and who else would venture the attempt ?

Nearly an hour thus passed, and then the bells of S. Sophia thundered their summons to its last Liturgy. Emperor and noble, baron and knight, all ranks and degrees of men poured into that glorious church: choir, nave, and narthex, aisle and gallery, were full to overflowing. Archbishop and bishops for the last time put on their magnificent vestments within its walls; for the last time, the Mystic Lamb was slain : for the last time again and again in peace supplication made unto the LORD;' for the last time with thousands of Angels and myriads of Archangels, with Cherubim and Seraphim,' was the Triumphal Hymn sung.

6

The Liturgy was finished, and Communion was overnothing now remained but to make the end glorious. Again the council met for a few brief moments in the palace.

“ "Now, my lords," said Constantine, in a more cheerful voice," we have only to take our posts, and to hold them out as long as GOD shall give us grace. Three hours yet have we more before the assault begins;—if anything yet remains to be done, we have still time. Before morning, I trust to have visited all the posts in succession: each one of you I shall see separately: never altogether again as now. Therefore, my lords, GOD bless you all, and give us all a meeting where there is no more war!"

No one trusted himself to speak: though there were indistinct murmurs of "GOD bless your Majesty! The Panaghia guard the Cæsar! GOD preserve the Palaologus !"

So ended the last Council of the Roman Empire.

CHAPTER XXXV.

"There is no doubt that there exist such voices,

Yet I would not call them

Voices of warning that announced to us

Only the inevitable."

Wallenstein.

"WHAT is it, Barlaam ?" inquired De Rushton, hastily, as the old man plucked his sleeve, on his leaving the palace.

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My lord," said the Steward, "the Lady de Rushton begs that you will come to her, on business of infinite moment, though it be but for two minutes."

"I cannot," said Sir Edward, hastily. "I must be at my post instantly-I ought to be there now. "It is no common thing," pleaded the old man. "The lady Choniatis was up, and so was the lady Euphrasiait is no common thing that would have made them send me forth on such a night."

De Rushton hesitated; and then the thoughts of his own Theodora in distress, which he might perhaps alleviate, prevailed.

"I will go," said he, "when I have spoken to Burstow. Hasten on before and say so." Barlaam, joyful to have succeeded, lost no time in obeying.

"Burstow," cried the Great Acolyth," I shall be at the Phanar gate in twenty minutes. Meantime, go to Nicephorus, borrow a horse from some of the guard,and ask him to meet me there at once. My mind misgives me about that gate. Lose no time, and then come back to me either there, or at Port S. Peter's."

"I will, my lord," replied Burstow: and he set forth on his errand.

Meanwhile, De Rushton, with rapid steps, hurried to his own metœcia.

"The Lady de Rushton is in her own parlour," said Barlaam, meeting the Great Acolyth at the door:-and the latter accordingly bent his steps thither, and found Theodora and Maria Choniatis seated together.

"Oh, Edward! thank GOD that you are come!" cried his bride, springing into his arms.

"What is it, love?

What is it?—It is something terrible; I see it by your face-tell me, dearest Theodora― let me know at once.'

“Oh do not make me go to the ice-house! My dear husband, do not send me there! For the Panaghia's

sake, do not!"

"Not to the ice-house, Theodora ?—Why not?”

"I have seen my poor mother this very night,” answered his bride. "I saw her by my bed side, as plainly as I see you now, and she told me not to thither. Do

go

not send me there I am sure you will not!" "Your mother!" cried De Rushton.

mean her spirit ?"

"Yes," replied Theodora.

"What! do you

"My own love," he said tenderly, "you are worn out with grief and anxiety; believe me,-this is nothing else but fantasy. You had been thinking of the ice-houseyou had been thinking of your dear mother."

"No-no,” cried Theodora, vehemently: "you cannot persuade me so. Most clearly I saw her,-most plainly I heard her; so far from having any objections to the plan you proposed, I thought it excellent. It is a warning from GOD, and woe be to us if we neglect it.”

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De Rushton was much distressed. 'Theodora," said he, "if it were possible to make a new arrangement, even now, for the sake of your comfort I would do it, though I am well persuaded that this is nothing but fancy. But listen to reason. To do so, I must find your father, and Choniates, and Burstow. I know not where to look for them-I could only send for them at best, for my own post I must not leave: I might not find them before the attack really begins, and then all would be confusion; dear love, I must act by my own judgment, -the plan must go on-I should never forgive myself

else."

"I thought," sobbed Theodora, "I thought you would have listened to me."

De Rushton bit his lip, in great perplexity how to act. "My dear love," he said at length, "supposing this was