fter a moment's pause, Father Mathias
followed him, and seized him by the arm, saying, in a faltering voice,
"Let her not suffer long."

The Grand Inquisitor gave the signal, and the fires were all lighted
at the same moment. In compliance with the request of the priest, the
executioner had thrown a quantity of wet straw upon Amine's pile,
which threw up a dense smoke before it burnt into flames.

"Mother! mother! I come to thee!" were the last words heard from
Amine's lips.

The flames soon raged furiously, ascending high above the top of the
stake to which she had been chained. Gradually they sunk down; and
only when the burning embers covered the ground, a few fragments of
bones hanging on the chain were all that remained of the once peerless
and high-minded Amine.

Chapter XLI

Years have, passed away since we related Amine's sufferings and cruel
death; and now once more we bring Philip Vanderdecken on the scene.
And during this time, where has he been? A lunatic--at one time
frantic, chained, coerced with blows; at others, mild and peaceable.
Reason occasionally appeared to burst out again, as the sun on a
cloudy day, and then it was again obscured. For many years there was
one who watched him carefully, and lived in hope to witness his return
to a sane mind; he watched in sorrow and remorse,--he died without his
desires being gratified. This was Father Mathias!

The cottage at Terneuse had long fallen into ruin; for many years it
waited the return of its owners, and at last the heirs-at-law claimed
and recovered the substance of Philip Vanderdecken. Even the fate of
Amine had passed from the recollection of most people; although her
portrait, over burning coals, with her crime announced beneath it, still
hangs--as is the custom in the church of the Inquisition--attracting,
from its expressive beauty, the attention of the most careless
passers-by.

But many, many years have rolled away--Philip's hair is white--his
once-powerful frame is broken down--and he appears much older than he
really is. He is now sane; but his vigour is gone. Weary of life, all
he wishes for is to execute his mission--and then to welcome death.

The relic has never been taken from him: he has been discharged from
the lunatic asylum, and has been provided with the means of returning
to his country. Alas! he has now no country--no home--nothing in the
world to induce him to remain in it. All he asks is--to do his duty
and to