d stuck the cresset in its niche
behind the door, and its glow filled the little cell.

At first I could not see the Little Playmate--only a rough pallet bed and
something white at the head of it. But as the cresset burned up more
clearly, and my eyes became accustomed to the bleared and streaky light,
I saw Helene, my love, kneeling at her bed's head.

I stood still and waited. Was she asleep? Was she--was she dead? I
almost hoped that she might be. Then the Duke's vengeance would be
balked indeed.

"Helene!" I said, softly, as one speaks to the dying--"Helene, dear,
dear Helene!"

Slowly she looked up. Her face dawned on me as one day the face of the
blessed angel will shine when he calls me out of purgatory.

"My love--my love!" she said, sweetly, like the first note of a hymn when
the choir breathes the sweet music rather than sings it.

Ah, Lord of Innocence, that pure loving face, the purple deepness in the
eyes, the flush on the cheek as on that of a little child asleep, the
soft curled hair which crisped in the hollow of the neck--the throat
itself--Eternal God, that I should be alive to think of the horror!

But time was passing swiftly. The minutes were slipping by like men
running for their lives.

I raised Helene from her knees, and she nestled her head on my shoulder.

"You have come to me! I knew you would come. I saw you on the day--the
day when they condemned me to die."

I broke into an angry, desperate, protesting cry, so that I heard my own
voice ring strangely through that dumb, horrible place. And it was I who
sobbed in her arms with my head on her shoulder.

"Hush, dear love," she said, clasping her arms caressingly about my head;
"do not fear for me. God will keep your little one. God has told me that
He will bring me bravely through. Hush thee, then; do not so, Hugo, great
playmate! This I cannot bear. Help me to be good. It will not be long nor
painful. Do not weep for your little girl! I think, somehow, it is for
our love that I suffer, and that will make it sweet!"

But still I sobbed like a child. For how--how could I tell her?

Presently the power returned slowly to me, seeing her smiling so bravely
up at me, and rising on tiptoe to kiss my wet face.

Then I told her all--in what words I hardly remember now.

"Love of mine," I said, "I have but an hour or less to speak with
you--and ah! such terrible things, such inconceivable things, to say; a
horror to reveal such as never