e brave, be strong! If you
wed Philip, Antoinette will be miserable. Her disappointment would break
her heart; and all your life long, the phantom form of the dear sister
whose happiness you had wrecked would stand between your husband and
yourself. She is innocent; she does not even know that I love Philip. I
have never admitted it to her; I have always concealed the truth. She
will be happy; she will feel no remorse, and she will cause peace,
resignation and love to descend with healing wings upon the heart of him
she so fondly loves."

Never was there a nobler example of self-denial and renunciation. She
had only to utter a single word and Philip was hers forever; but if she
must pain Antoinette's tender heart, and fail in respect to her
benefactor in order to win happiness, she would have none of it. Such
were her reflections as she watched over her sleeping friend.

"Ah!" she murmured, as she sadly gazed upon her; "why did you not
remain in England? Why did you come here? You little know how much
misery you have caused me!"

One cannot wonder that a rebellious cry rose from her tortured heart;
but the cry did not escape her lips. It was stifled in her inmost soul
with the hopes she had just relinquished forever. Suddenly the door
opened, and the jailer entered. It was now about ten o'clock in the
morning.

"There is a prisoner below who has just arrived, and who wishes to see
you, citoyenne."

"It is he!" thought Dolores, turning pale at the thought of meeting
Philip again.

Nevertheless, she armed herself with courage, and went down-stairs with
a firm step to welcome Philip. He was awaiting her with feverish
impatience. On seeing her, he uttered a cry of joy and sprang forward,
crying:

"Dolores, Dolores, at last we meet never again to part!"

"Never?" she asked, faintly.

"Do you not remember my words? If God, who has united us once more,
after a long and cruel separation, saves us from the dangers that
threaten us with destruction, shall you not believe that he smiles upon
our love? Ah, well! thanks to Coursegol, we shall succeed in making our
escape from this place. We shall soon be free!"

"And what is to be Antoinette's fate?'

"Antoinette?"

Dolores looked him full in the eyes and said, with all the firmness she
could command:

"You left Antoinette in England, Philip, promising to marry her on your
return. She is now in France, in Paris, in this prison. She comes to
claim the fulfilment of