ike a thunder clap. It was useless for
Zulma to attempt mastering her feelings. She rushed out into the garden,
and there delivered herself to her agony. She had not foreseen this
catastrophe, had never deemed anything like it possible. Now he was
gone, gone in headlong flight, without a word of warning, without a
farewell. After what had been happening within the preceding few days, a
single, final interview would have helped to seal her resignation and
reconcile her to her fate. But now even this boon was denied her.

It need not be said that M. Belmont's grief was also extreme, as we know
the many reasons--personal and political, on account of himself, his
countrymen, and his daughter--which he had to desire the success of the
American cause. It was in vain for him to attempt concealing his emotion
in the presence of Pauline. She immediately divined that something
extraordinary had happened. Cary's behaviour during the last of his
several visits had been so peculiar as to leave the impression that he
was under the shadow of impending calamity. Only the evening previous,
as he bade her farewell, his manner was strange, almost wild. He was
tender and yet abrupt. If she had not known that he was dominated by a
terrible sorrow, she would have feared that he was yielding to anger. He
protested his eternal gratitude. He poured out his love in glorious
words. He stood beautiful in the grandeur of his passion. And yet there
was an indefinite something which made his departure painfully
impressive to Pauline. His last words were:--

"If you will not consent to live, Pauline, there is only one thing for
me to do. You understand?"

She understood perfectly well. The words had been ringing in her ears
ever since, and now from her father's appearance the suspicion flashed
upon her that perhaps they were fulfilled. Was Cary dead? Had he thrown
away his life in battle? The doubt could brook no delay, and, gathering
all her strength, she abruptly interrogated M. Belmont.

"No, not dead, my child, but----"

"But what, father? I beg you to tell me all."

"They are gone. The siege is raised. It was unforeseen, and done in the
utmost precipitation."

"And he too is gone!"

"Alas! my dear."

"That is as bad as death."

And uttering a piercing shriek, Pauline fell back in a swoon upon her
pillow. The cry was heard by Zulma in the garden, and she rushed back
into the room. The alteration in the face of the patient was so terrib