leaning over her arm, and speaking rather loud, under the
impression that her senses were blunted by grief, he said, "Look here:
Colonel Dujardin, your husband, deliberately, and with his eyes open,
sacrificed his life for me, and for his own heroic sense of honor. Now,
it is my turn. If that hero stood here, and asked me for all the blood
in my body, I would give it him. He is gone; but, dying for me, he has
left me his widow and his child; they remain under my wing. To protect
them is my pride, and my only consolation. I am going to the mayor to
annul our unlucky contract in due form, and make us brother and sister
instead. But," turning to the baroness, "don't you think to escape me
as your daughter has done: no, no, old lady, once a mother, always a
mother. Stir from your son's home if you dare!"

And with these words, in speaking which his voice had recovered its iron
firmness, he strode out at the door, superb in manhood and principle,
and every eye turned with wonder and admiration after him. Even when he
was gone they gazed at the door by which a creature so strangely noble
had disappeared.

The baroness was about to follow him without taking any notice of
Josephine. But Rose caught her by the gown. "O mother, speak to poor
Josephine: bid her live."

The baroness only made a gesture of horror and disgust, and turned her
back on them both.

Josephine, who had tottered up from her seat at Rose's words, sank
heavily down again, and murmured, "Ah! the grave holds all that love me
now."

Rose ran to her side. "Cruel Josephine! what, do not I love you? Mother,
will you not help me persuade her to live? Oh! if she dies, I will die
too; you will kill both your children."

Stern and indignant as the baroness was, yet these words pierced her
heart. She turned with a piteous, half apologetic air to Edouard and
Aubertin. "Gentlemen," said she, "she has been foolish, not guilty.
Heaven pardons the best of us. Surely a mother may forgive her child."
And with this nature conquered utterly; and she held out her arms, wide,
wide, as is a mother's heart. Her two erring children rushed sobbing
violently into them; and there was not a dry eye in the room for a long
time.

After this, Josephine's heart almost ceased to beat. Fear and
misgivings, and the heavy sense of deceit gnawing an honorable heart,
were gone. Grief reigned alone in the pale, listless, bereaved widow.

The marriage was annulled before the mayor; and, t