ll lose all, but
it will be for your sake. Reflect, Norbert; there is yet time, but
to-morrow it will be too late."

These were the words that Mademoiselle de Laurebourg had had the courage
to pen, which to the former lover were full of the most thrilling
eloquence. The usually bold, firm writing of Diana was, in the letter
before him, confused and almost illegible, showing the writer's frame of
mind. There were blurs and blisters upon the paper as though tears had
fallen upon it, perhaps because the writing had been made purposely
irregular and drops of water are an excellent substitute for tears.

"Does she really love me?" murmured he.

He hesitated; yes, he absolutely hesitated, impressed by the idea that
for him she was ready to sacrifice position and honor, that he had but
to raise his finger and she was his, and that in the space of a couple
of hours she might be the companion of his flight to some far-distant
land. His pulse throbbed madly, and he could scarcely draw his breath,
when some fifty paces down the road he caught sight of the figure of a
man; it was his father. This was the second time that the Duke by his
mere presence had spread the web of Diana's temptations and allurements.

"Never!" exclaimed Norbert, with such fire and energy that the girl fell
back a pace. "Never! no, never!" and crushing up the letter, he dashed
it upon the ground, from whence Francoise picked it up as he ran forward
to meet his father. The Duke had recovered from his attack as far as the
mere fact of his life not having been sacrificed; he could walk, sleep,
eat and drink as he had formerly done. He could look at the laborers in
the fields or the horses in the stables, but five minutes afterwards
he had no recollection of what he heard or saw. The sudden loss of his
father's aid would have caused Norbert much embarrassment had it not
been for the shrewdness and sagacity of M. de Puymandour, who had
assisted him greatly. But all these arrangements which had to be
made had necessarily delayed the wedding. But it came at last; M. de
Puymandour took absolute possession of him, and after the unhappy young
man had passed a sleepless night, he was allowed no time for reflection.
At eleven o'clock he entered the carriage, and was driven fast to the
Mayor's office, and from thence to the chapel, and by twelve o'clock
all was finished and he fettered for life. A little before dinner the
Viscount de Mussidan came to offer his congrat