and when this mad
fever has subsided and order is restored, he will reward you. And
Antoine--"

Here the Priest pocketed his book and somewhat awkwardly with his huge
hands unfastened the left side of his cassock, and tore the silk from
the lining. Monsieur the Cure's cassock seemed a cabinet of oddities.
First he pulled from this ingenious hiding-place a crucifix, which he
replaced; then a knot of white ribbon which he also restored; and
finally a tiny pocket or bag of what had been cream-colored satin
embroidered with small bunches of heartsease, and which was aromatic
with otto of roses. Awkwardly, and somewhat slowly he drew out of this a
small locket, in the center of which was some unreadable legend in
cabalistic looking character, and which blazed with the finest diamonds.
Heaven alone knows the secret of that gem, or the struggle with which
the Priest yielded it. He put it into Antoine's hand, talking as he did
so, partly to himself and partly to the gaoler.

"We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry
nothing out. The diamonds are of the finest, Antoine, and will sell for
much. The blessing of a dying priest upon you if you do kindly, and his
curse if you do ill to his poor child, whose home was my home in better
days. And for the locket,--it is but a remembrance, and to remember is
not difficult!"

As the last observation was not addressed to Antoine, so also he did not
hear it. He was discontentedly watching the body of the Viscount, whom
he consented to help, but with genuine weak-mindedness consented
ungraciously.

"How am I to get him there? Monsieur le Cure sees that he cannot stand
upon his feet!"

Monsieur le Cure smiled, and stooping, picked his old pupil up in his
arms as if he had been a baby, and bore him to one of the doors.

"You must come no further," said Antoine hastily.

"Ingrate!" muttered the priest in momentary anger, and than ashamed, he
crossed himself and pressing the young nobleman to his bosom with the
last gush of earthly affection that he was to feel, he kissed his
senseless face, spoke a benediction to ears that could not hear it, and
laid his burden down.

"God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be with thee now and in
the dread hour of death. Adieu! we shall meet hereafter."

The look of pity, the yearning of rekindled love, the struggle of
silenced memories passed from his face and left a shining
calm--foretaste of the perpetual Light and