nto this tomb to
learn if our secret had ever been discovered, and if there was any hope
that she might yet be made happy? Ah, woman, woman, you are not a
wretch--a demon! You will not sentence this innocent soul to disgrace
and misery. Even if I must die--and I swear that I will die if you say
so--leave to my child her hopes; keep secret my sin, and take the
blessing of the most miserable being that crawls upon the earth, as a
solace for your old age. Hear me; hear a wretched mother's plea--"

"It is too late," I broke in. "Even were I silent there are others upon
your track. I doubt if your husband does not already know that the day
of his prosperity is at an end."

She gave a low cry, and tottered from the place. Entering her own room,
she threw herself upon the bed. I followed, drawing the curtains about
her. Then closing the door of communication between the oak parlor and
the chamber beyond, I passed to the door behind which we could yet hear
her daughter's soft voice calling, and, unlocking it, let the radiant
creature in.

"Oh, mamma!" she began, "I could not keep my word--"

But here I held up my hand, and drawing her softly out, told her that
her mother needed rest just now, and that if she would come to my room
for a little while it would be best; and so prevailed upon her that she
promised to do what I asked, though I saw her cast longing glances
through the partly opened door toward the somber bed so like a tomb, and
which at that moment was a tomb, had she known it--a tomb of hope, of
joy, of peace for evermore.

I was just going out, when a slight stir detained me. Looking back, I
saw a hand thrust out from between the falling curtains. Just a hand,
but how eloquent it was! Pointing it out to mademoiselle, I said:

"Your mother's hand. Give it a kiss, mademoiselle, but do not part the
curtains."

She smiled and crossed to that ominous bed. Kneeling, she kissed the
hand, which thereupon raised itself and rested on her head. In another
instant it was drawn slowly away, and, with a startled look, the
half-weeping daughter rose and glided again to my side.

As I closed the door I thought of those words: "And the sins of the
father shall be visited upon the children to the third and fourth
generation."

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE MARQUIS.

But the events of the night are not over. As soon as I had seen
mademoiselle comfortably ensconced in my old room up stairs, I returned
to the sitting room, w