he sin of our mother Eve, but though He
punishes us, He loves us, and we are His children. He knows what is best
for us here and hereafter."

"He certainly is looking to my _future_ good, if at all," sighed
Yolanda. "But I do believe in God's goodness, mother, and I am sure He
will save me. Holy Virgin! how helpless a woman is." She began to weep
afresh, and the duchess tried to soothe her.

"I believe I will pray to the Virgin. She may help us," said the girl,
in a voice that was plaintively childlike.

"It is a pious thought, Mary," answered the duchess.

Yolanda slipped from the divan to the floor, and, kneeling, buried her
face in her mother's lap. She prayed aloud:--

"Blessed Virgin, Thou seest my dire need. Help me. My prayer is short,
but Thou, Blessed Lady, knowest how fervent it is." The duchess crossed
herself, bowed her head, and murmured a fervent "Amen."

Yolanda rose from her prayer with a brighter face, and exclaimed almost
joyfully:--

"It was impious in me to doubt God's love, mother. I do believe I heard
the Blessed Virgin say, 'Help is at hand.' At least, I felt her
words, mother."

Yolanda moved about the room aimlessly for several minutes and by chance
stopped at the table. She started to take up the quill and ink-well to
carry them back to her parlor, which was in Darius (Darius was the name
of the tower that rose from the castle battlements immediately above
Castleman's House under the Wall), and her eyes rested on the small iron
box in which the letter to King Louis had been deposited. An unconscious
motive, perhaps it was childish curiosity, prompted her to examine the
missive. She took the pouch from the box and found it unsealed. She
listlessly drew out the missive and began to read, when suddenly her
face grew radiant with joy. She ran excitedly to her mother, who was
sitting on the divan, and exclaimed:--

"Oh! mother, the sweet Blessed Virgin has sent help!"

"In what manner, child?" asked the duchess, fondling Yolanda's hair
while the girl knelt beside her.

"Here, mother, here! Here is help; here in this very letter that was
intended to be my undoing. I cannot wait to thank the Holy Mother." She
crossed herself and buried her face in her mother's lap while she
thanked the Virgin.

"What is it, Mary, and where is the help?" asked Margaret, fearing the
girl's mind had been touched by her troubles.

"Listen!" cried Yolanda.

Her excitement was so great that she could hardl