nly silent. He
recollected that he had confided his hopes and fears to Mademoiselle de
Mirandol that very morning; and when he thought of the trying position
in which he had placed her, and of what she must have suffered, his pity
was aroused.

"If her sorrow equals mine, she is, indeed, to be pitied," he said,
sadly.

"Why do you not try to assuage your own sorrow by consoling her?" asked
Dolores, gently.

These words kindled Philip's anger afresh.

"What power have I to annihilate the memory of that which at once charms
and tortures me?" he exclaimed. "Can I tear your image from its shrine
in my heart and put that of Antoinette in its place? Do you think that
your words will suffice to destroy the hopes I have cherished so long?
Undeceive yourself, Dolores. I am deeply disappointed, but I will not
give you up. I will compel you to love me, if it be only through the
pity which my despair will inspire in your heart."

These frenzied words caused Dolores the most poignant anguish without
weakening her determination in the least. She felt that she must destroy
the hope to which Philip had just alluded--that this was the only means
of compelling him lo accept the love of Antoinette; so she said,
gravely:

"I love you too much, Philip, to desire to foster illusions which will
certainly never be realized. My decision is irrevocable; and if you
still doubt the truth of my words, I will frankly tell you all. I am
promised----"

"Promised!" exclaimed Philip, with a menacing gesture for the unknown
man who had dared to become his rival. "Promised!" he repeated. "To
whom?"

"To God!" responded Dolores, gently. "I have just informed your father
of my determination to enter a convent!"

Philip recoiled in horror and astonishment; then covering his face with
his hands he fled through the lonely park, repeating again and again the
name of her whom he so fondly loved but who would soon be lost to him
forever. For some moments, Dolores remained motionless on the spot where
she had just renounced her last hope of earthly happiness. Her eyes
followed Philip in his frenzied flight, and, when he disappeared, she
stretched out her hands with a gesture of mingled longing and despair.
But the weakness that had made this courageous soul falter for an
instant soon vanished. She lifted her eyes toward Heaven as if imploring
strength from on high and then walked slowly in the direction of the
chateau. Suddenly, at a turn in the path,