n, upon a sofa. Denis was standing silent at a window
which overlooked the Walk. Both were covered with dust from their
journey.

Genifrede looked up, on hearing some one enter. When she saw that it
was her father, she again buried her face in the cushions, saving only--

"Oh, why did you come?"

"Stay, my child, why did you come? How--why--"

"I always know," said she, "when misery is near; and where misery is,
there am I. Do not be angry with Denis, father. I made him come."

"I am angry with no one, Genifrede. I am too much grieved to be angry.
I am come to take you to Moyse. I cannot see him myself, at present;
but I will take you to the door of the salon where he is."

"The salon!" said Genifrede, as if relieved. She had probably imagined
him chained in a cell. This one word appeared to alter the course of
her ideas. She glanced at her travel-soiled dress, and hesitated. Her
father said--

"I will send a servant to you. Refresh yourself; and in half-an-hour I
will come again."

When he rejoined her, she was still haggard and agitated, but appeared
far less wretched than before.

"Genifrede!" cried Moyse, as she entered and leaned against the wall,
unable to go farther. "Genifrede! And was not that your father who
admitted you? Oh, call him, Genifrede! Call him back! I must see him.
If you ask him, he will come. Call him back, Genifrede!"

"If you are engaged, Moyse," said she in a sickening voice, "if I am in
your way, I will go."

"No, no, my love. But I must see your father. Everything may depend
upon it."

"I will go--as soon as I can," said the poor girl, beginning to sink to
the floor.

"You shall not go, my love--my Genifrede," cried Moyse, supporting her
to a sofa. "I did not know--I little thought--Are you all here?"

"No; I came to see you, Moyse. I told you how it would be if we
parted."

"And how will it be, love?"

"Oh, how can you make me say it? How can you make me think it?"

"Why, Genifrede, you cannot suppose anything _very_ serious will happen.
What frightens you so? Once more I ask you the old question that we
must both be weary of--what frightens you so?"

"What frightens me!" she repeated, with a bewildered look in her face.
"Were we not to have been married as soon as you were relieved from your
command here? And are you not a prisoner, waiting for trial--and that
trial for--for--for your life?"

"Never believe so, Genifrede! Have they not to