onely and sad
that I have often and often entreated God to recall me to Himself."

"But, Dolores, if you had only listened to me when I pleaded in vain, if
you had but placed your hand in mine, what misery we should have been
spared."

"It would not have averted our misfortunes."

"No; but we might have borne them together, and after our sorrows found
consolation in each other."

"I could not be your wife."

"Is it true, then, that you do not love me?"

Dolores made no answer. Emboldened by the solemn calmness of these
moments which were, as they supposed, ushering them into eternity,
Philip continued:

"Whenever I pressed my suit, you pleaded my father's wishes as an excuse
for not listening to my prayers. To gratify a foolish ambition he
desired me to marry Antoinette. Ah, well! my father's will no longer
stands between us; and the engagement that binds me to her is broken by
the changed situation in which we find ourselves. We are free now in the
shadow of death. Will you not tell me the truth? Will you not open your
heart to me as I have opened mine to you?"

Dolores listened, her glowing eyes riveted upon Philip's face, her
bosom heaving with emotion. The words; "We are free now in the shadow of
death," rang in her ears. She felt that she could not refuse her lover
the last joy and consolation that he claimed; and that she, whose past
had been one long sacrifice of her happiness and of her hopes, had a
right to reveal the secret so long buried in her soul. Gently, almost
solemnly, these words fell from her lips:

"Listen, Philip, since you ask me for the truth, now, at this supreme
hour, I have always loved you as I love you now; and I love you now as
ardently as I am beloved!"

There was so much tenderness in her manner that Philip sprang up, his
eyes sparkling with rapture.

"And this is the avowal you have refused to make for five long years!"
he cried. "I knew that my love was returned. You have confessed it; and
if I were compelled to give my life in exchange for the happiness of
hearing this from your lips, I should not think that I paid too dearly
for it. But you have restored my energy and my courage. I feel strong
enough, now, to defy the whole world in a struggle for the felicity that
is rightfully ours. We shall live, Dolores, to belong to each other, to
comfort each other."

"Do not, I entreat you, ask me to live," exclaimed Dolores, "since the
certainty of death alone decided me to spea