ot where you appeared? Did not your
very arms prevent me from seeking death when we met together again! Ah,
how much I suffered then because of you? Oh, why did you come hither to
see me in my misery, in my despair?"

And she covered her face with her hands, and wept.

Rudolf was vexed to the soul at what he had done.

Presently Fanny withdrew the handkerchief from the Prayer-book, dried
her streaming eyes, and resumed, in a stronger voice--

"And now what does it profit you to know that I am a senseless creature
struggling with despair when I think of you? Can you be the happier for
it? I shall be all the unhappier, for now I must deny myself even the
very thought of you."

What could he say to her? What words could he find wherewith to comfort
her? What could he do but extend his hand to her and allow her to cover
it with her tears and kisses? What could he do but allow her in her
passionate despair to fall upon his breast, and, sobbing and moaning,
hold him embraced betwixt unspeakable agony and unspeakable joy?

And when she had wept herself out on his breast, the poor lady grew
calmer, and ceasing her sobbing, said in a determined voice--

"And now I swear to you before that God who will one day judge me for my
sins, that if ever I see you again, that same hour shall be the hour of
my death. If, then, you have any compassion, avoid me! I beg of you not
your love but your pity; I shall know how to get over it somehow in
time."

Rudolf's fine eyes sparkled with tears. This poor lady had deserved to
be happy, and yet she had only been happy a single moment all her life,
and that moment was when she had hung sobbing on his breast.

How long and weary life must be to her from henceforth!

Rudolf quitted the woman, and scarce waiting until Karpathy had awoke,
he took his leave and returned to Szentirma. He was very sad and ill at
ease all the way.

On reaching home, his merry, vivacious, affectionate wife flew towards
him, and dried the traces of the bitter tears with her loving kisses.

"Ah, ha! so you were at Madaras, eh?" said Flora, roguishly; "a little
bird whispered me that you would go a-spying. Well, what have you
discovered?"

"That you are right," said Rudolf, tenderly--"women are not weak."

"Then there is peace between us. And what news of Fanny?"

"God help the poor lady, for she is very, very unhappy!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

UNPLEASANT DISCOVERIES.

It was the winter season at Pest.