"
Sir Maurice still lingered under the window in conversation with his
son, who at length complained of being cold and drowsy. "Mark," said he,
as he closed the window, "mark father, Mars, the star of my fate, looks
smilingly to-night, all will be well." Sir Maurice looked up--a dark
cloud spot suddenly crossed the planet, and he shuddered at the omen.
The anxious father could not leave the spot. Sleep he knew it was vain
to court, and he therefore determined to remain where he was. The
reflexions that occupied his mind continually varied: at one time he
painted to himself the proud career of his high spirited boy, known and
admired among the mighty of his time; a moment after he saw the
prediction verified, and the child of his love lying in the tomb. Who
can conceive his feelings as hour dragged after hour, while he walked to
and fro, watching the blaze of the fire in the tower, as it brightened
and sunk again--now pacing the court with hasty steps, and now praying
fervently for the preservation of his son? The hour came. The cathedral
bell struck heavy on the father's heart, which was not to be lightened
by the cheerful voices of his daughters, who came running full of hope
to the foot of the tower.
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