n Antoinette reappeared. Now, behold your work. Here
are all three of us equally miserable; you, in dying; I, in surviving
you; Antoinette, in loving me."

"I am glad to die," replied Dolores, who had regained her firmness and
composure.

"Then why did you not allow me to share this happiness? Yesterday, when
you received the fatal news, why did you not say to me: 'We have been
unhappy here on earth; death will save us from many and undeserved
misfortunes; come, let us die together.'"

"What! be the cause of your death?"

"It would be less cruel than to leave me behind you. Do you know what my
life will be when I can no longer hope to see you again here below? One
long supplication for death to quickly relieve me of the burden of
existence."

"Philip, Philip!" murmured Dolores, reproachfully. "Can it be you who
speak thus, you who have linked a soul to yours; you who are a husband
already, for at the bedside of your dying father did not you and
Antoinette kneel together to receive the blessing of God's anointed
priest?"

Philip made no reply.

"You have reproached me," continued Dolores, "and why? Who is the real
culprit here? Is it I? Have I not always discouraged you? Have I not
always told you that duty stood between us? Have I not always striven to
convince you that your hopes were futile? Had not you, yourself,
renounced them? Then, why should I reproach myself? Besides, I have not
sought death. I die because Heaven wills it, but I am resigned, and if
this resignation is any evidence of courage, let it strengthen and
reanimate your soul. Bravely act the only part that is worthy of your
past, of your heart and of your name. There, and there only your
soul-will find happiness and peace."

Philip's anger vanished before such words as these. He was no longer
irritated, but entirely overcome. Suddenly a sob resounded behind them.
They turned. Antoinette was upon her knees.

"Pardon," said she, in a voice broken with sobs.

Dolores sprang forward to raise her.

"Philip, do you forgive me?" entreated Antoinette.

He too was weeping. He extended his hand to the young girl, who took it
and covered it with her tears.

"Spare me, spare me!" exclaimed Dolores. "You rend my soul now when I
have need for all my strength. Your grief and despair at my fate lead
you both beyond reality. You, my dear friend, my dear sister Antoinette,
have received a sacred promise which you, Philip, made freely and with
the intent