p against the suddenness of
the disclosure, Fleur-de-Marie fell fainting in the prince's arms.

Murphy rushed to the waiting-room, and shouted vehemently:

"Send for Doctor David directly! Directly, do you hear? For his royal
highness,--no--no, for some one who is suddenly taken ill here."

"Wretch that I am!" exclaimed Rodolph, sobbing almost hysterically at
his daughter's feet, "I have killed her! Marie, my child, look up! It is
your father calls you! Forgive--oh, forgive my precipitancy--my want of
caution in disclosing to you this happy news! She is dead! God of
heaven! Have I then but found her to see her torn from me for ever?"

"Calm yourself, my lord," said Clemence, "there is no danger, depend
upon it. The colour returns to her cheeks; the surprise overcame her."

"But so recently risen from a bed of sickness that surprise may kill
her! Unhappy man that I am, doomed for ever to misery and suffering!"

At this moment the negro doctor, David, entered the room in great haste,
holding in one hand a small case filled with phials, and in the other a
paper he handed to Murphy.

"David!" exclaimed Rodolph, "my child is dying! I once saved your life,
repay me now by saving that of my daughter."

Although amazed at hearing the prince speak thus, David hurried to
Fleur-de-Marie, whom Madame d'Harville was supporting in her arms,
examined her pulse and the veins of her temples, then turning towards
Rodolph, who in speechless agony was awaiting his decree, he said:

"Your royal highness has no cause for alarm; there is no danger."

"Can it be true? Are you quite sure she will recover?"

"Perfectly so, my lord; a few drops of ether administered in a glass of
water is all that is requisite to restore consciousness."

"Thanks, thanks, my good, my excellent David!" cried the prince, in an
ecstasy of joy. Then addressing Clemence, Rodolph added, "Our daughter
will be spared to us."

Murphy had just glanced over the paper given him by David; suddenly he
started, and gazed with looks of terror at the prince.

"Yes, my old and faithful friend," cried Rodolph, misinterpreting the
expression of Murphy's features, "ere long my daughter will enjoy the
happiness of calling the Marquise d'Harville mother."

"Yesterday's news," said Murphy, trembling violently, "was false."

"What say you?"

"The report of the death of the Countess Macgregor, my lord, is
unfounded; her ladyship had undergone a severe crisis of her illnes