your promise."

While Dolores was speaking, Philip's face underwent an entire change, so
great was the surprise and emotion caused by this intelligence. When she
had finished, he could make no response; he could only lean against the
wall of the prison, speechless and motionless.

CHAPTER XIII.

LOVE'S CONFLICTS.

What Philip had just heard filled his heart with grief and
consternation. How had Antoinette succeeded in reaching Paris? What had
been her object in coming? Dolores repeated the story exactly as
Antoinette had told it. When it was ended she simply added:

"Philip, why did you not tell me of the engagement that existed between
you? What! you left Antoinette scarcely six weeks ago--left her,
promising to marry her on your return, and now you entreat me to be your
wife!"

Philip hastily interrupted her.

"Ah, Dolores, do not reproach me. I have been neither false nor
treacherous. There has been a terrible, a fatal mistake. Yes, separated
from you, convinced that I should never see you again--that you were
dead or forever lost to me, I made Antoinette the same promise I made my
father four years ago, when I believed you consecrated to God; but when
I found you once more, you whom I adore, how could I forget that you
first--that you alone, possessed my heart? Even as a child, I loved you
as one loves a wife, not as one loves a sister; and this passion has
grown with my growth, and strengthened with my strength, until it has
become the ruling power of my life."

"Alas!" murmured Dolores.

"And when a thrice-blessed change has brought us together once more, now
that I can at last cover your dear hands with kisses, and feast my
hungry eyes upon your beauty, you would forbid me in the name of
Antoinette to tell you what has been in my heart so many years? No,
Dolores, no. You are strong, I know. You possess sufficient energy and
determination to conquer yourself and to remain apparently cold and
unmoved while your heart is writhing in anguish; but I have no such
fortitude. I cannot hide my suffering; I love you, I must tell you so."

As he spoke, Philip became more and more agitated. Tears gathered in his
eyes and his features worked convulsively.

"Do you not see," he resumed, after a short silence, "that the scruples
which led us to conceal the truth were the causes of all our misery? If,
hand in hand, we had knelt before him and said: 'Father, we love each
other, give us your blessing,' he wo