ave it me in a dream.
Would a mother have assisted her daughter, if it were wrong?"

"It was not your mother, but a fiend who took the likeness."

"It was my mother. Again you ask me to say that I believe that which I
cannot."

"That which you cannot! Amine Vanderdecken, be not obstinate."

"I am not obstinate, good Father. Have you not offered me, what is to
me beyond all price, that I should again be in the arms of my husband?
Can I degrade myself to a lie? not for life, or liberty or even for my
Philip."

"Amine Vanderdecken, if you will confess your crime, before you are
accused, you will have done much; after your accusation has been made,
it will be of little avail."

"It will not be done either before or after, Father. What I have done
I have done, but a crime it is not to me and mine; with you it may be,
but I am not of yours."

"Recollect also that you peril your husband, for having wedded with a
sorceress. Forget not: to-morrow I will see you again."

"My mind is troubled," replied Amine. "Leave me, Father, it will be a
kindness."

Father Mathias quitted the cell, pleased with the last words of Amine.
The idea of her husband's danger seemed to have startled her.

Amine threw herself down on the mattress, in the corner of the cell,
and hid her face.

"Burnt alive!" exclaimed she after a time, sitting up, and passing her
hands over her forehead. "Burnt alive! and these are Christians.
This, then, was the cruel death foretold by that creature,
Schriften--foretold--yes, and therefore must be: it is my destiny:
I cannot save myself. If I confess, then, I confess that Philip is
wedded to a sorceress, and he will be punished too. No, never--never:
I can suffer, 'tis cruel--'tis horrible to think of--but 'twill soon
be over. God of my fathers, give me strength against these wicked men,
and enable me to bear all, for my dear Philip's sake."

The next evening Father Mathias again made his appearance. He found
Amine calm and collected: she refused to listen to his advice, or
follow his injunctions. His last observation, that "her husband would
be in peril, if she was found guilty of sorcery," had steeled her
heart, and she had determined that neither torture nor the stake
should make her confess the act. The priest left the cell, sick at
heart; he now felt miserable at the idea of Amine's perishing by so
dreadful a death; accused himself of precipitation, and wished that he
had never seen Amine, whose con