I hope to serve him faithfully.' 'By Saint James, and so you shall!' cried the happy Don Sancho.

'Go, my child, and say your prayers.

You will have something to pray about at last.' She was the only daughter he had left, exorbitantly loved; a little creature too much brocaded to move, cold as snow, pious as a virgin enclosed, with small regular features like a fairy queen's.

She had a narrow mind, and small heart for meeting tribulation, which, indeed, she seemed never likely to know.

Sometimes, being in her robes of state, crusted with gems, crowned, coifed, ringed, she looked like nothing so much as a stiff doll-goddess set in glass over an altar.