r to be more firm, and to declare her resolution never
to marry where she could not love.

"Rouse yourself, Pauline--the misery of a lifetime is before you, and
it is not yet too late."

"I have done every thing, Angela," said Pauline, despairingly. "My
doom is sealed, and I must bend to my bitter fate. I would fly, but
that I could not survive my mother's curse."

"The curse of the unrighteous availeth naught," replied her friend,
solemnly. "Were you wrongfully opposing your mother's will, mine
would be the last voice to uphold you; but now your very soul is at
stake."

Pauline cast up her eyes in mute appeal to heaven. Her companion
became excited as she proceeded, depicting the horrors of an unequal
marriage. Pale and exhausted, her listener at length entreated her to
forbear. She had been too long the slave of her mother's wishes to
oppose them now; she had been drilled into fear until it was a
weakness. This her bold-hearted, energetic friend could not
understand; and it was on her reproaching Pauline with moral cowardice
that she, for the first time, resented what had in fact been patiently
borne.

We have seen how kindly Angela forgave the accusation, and how she
wept over the effect of her words. The sudden entrance of Madame
Dumesnil put an end to the conversation, and the friends separated.

The next morning Angela was at Pauline's side again. Silently she
assisted in decorating the victim for the sacrifice. The bright jewels
clasped her arm and neck; the long veil hung around her slender form;
the orange wreath rested on the dark, dark tresses--and the dress was
beautiful. But the bride! she was pale and ghastly, and her lips blue
and quivering. Her eyes were void of all expression--those liquid,
lustrous eyes; and ever and anon the large drops rolled over her face,
oozing from the depths of her heart.

Poor Jeannette turned away, sobbing convulsively as the finishing
touches were given to this sad bridal toilette. Angela remained firm
and collected, but she, too, was pale; her cherished companion was
gone from her forever--gone in such misery, too, that she almost
prayed to see her the corpse she at that moment resembled.

Madame Dumesnil had remained below with the bridegroom and Mr. Percy,
the sole witness to this ill-omened marriage. At length the hour came,
Pauline was nearly carried down by Angela and Jeannette, and in a few
moments bound forever to a man she loathed. The ceremony was ended,