amily, all that is dear to you, all that is sacred. If you follow me,
you leave the home where you were born, the mother who nurtured you, the
brother who loves you, and who, perhaps, when he hears that you are the
wife of a brigand, will hate you. He will certainly despise you."

As he spoke, Morgan's eyes were anxiously questioning Amelie's face.
Over that face a tender smile stole gradually, and then it turned from
heaven to earth, and bent upon Morgan, who was still on his knees before
her.

"Oh, Charles!" she murmured, in a voice as soft as the clear limpid
river flowing at her feet, "the love that comes direct from the Divine
is very powerful indeed, since, in spite of those dreadful words you
have just uttered, I say to you without hesitation, almost without
regret: Charles, I am here; Charles, I am yours. Where shall we go?"

"Amelie, our fate is not one to discuss. If we go, if you follow me, it
must be at once. To-morrow we must be beyond the frontier."

"How do we go?"

"I have two horses, ready saddled at Montagnac, one for you, Amelie, and
one for me. I have letters of credit for two hundred thousand francs on
London and Vienna. We will go wherever you prefer."

"Wherever you are, Charles. What difference does it make so long as you
are there?"

"Then come."

"Can I have five minutes, Charles; is that too much?"

"Where are you going?"

"To say good-by to many things, to fetch your precious letters and the
ivory chaplet used at my first communion. Oh! there are many sacred
cherished souvenirs of my childhood which will remind me over there of
my mother, of France. I will fetch them and return."

"Amelie!"

"What is it?"

"I cannot leave you. If I part with you an instant now I feel that I
shall lose you forever. Amelie, let me go with you."

"Yes, come. What matter if they see your footsteps now? We shall be far
enough away to-morrow. Come!" The young man sprang from the boat and
gave his hand to Amelie to help her out. Then he folded his arm about
her and they walked to the house.

On the portico Charles stopped.

"Go on alone," said he; "memory is a chaste thing. I know that, and I
will not embarrass you by my presence. I will wait here and watch for
you. So long as I know you are close by me I do not fear to lose you.
Go, dear, and come back quickly."

Amelie answered with a kiss. Then she ran hastily up to her room, took
the little coffer of carved oak clamped with iron, her treasu