hink it would go round and
round.' She shut her eyes as if to steady herself, and that moment
seemed to give her more self-recollection, for looking at the weeping,
troubled visitor, she exclaimed, with more energy, 'Oh! Madame, it must
be a dreadful fancy! Good men like him cannot be shut into those fiery
gates with the torturing devils.'

'Heaven forbid!' exclaimed the Queen. 'My poor, poor child, grieve not
yourself thus. At my home, my Austrian home, we do not speak in this
dreadful way. My father loves and honours his loyal Protestants, and he
trusts that the good God accepts their holy lives in His unseen Church,
even though outwardly they are separate from us. My German confessor
ever said so. Oh! Child, it would be too frightful if we deemed that all
those souls as well as bodies perished in these frightful days. Myself,
I believe that they have their reward for their truth and constancy.'

Eustacie caught the Queen's hand, and fondled it with delight, as though
those words had veritably opened the gates of heaven to her husband.
The Queen went on in her slow gentle manner, the very tone of which
was inexpressibly soothing and sympathetic: 'Yes, and all will be clear
there. No more violence. At home our good men think so, and the King
will think the same when these cruel counselors will leave him to
himself; and I pray, I pray day and night, that God will not lay this
sin to his account, but open his eyes to repent. Forgive him, Eustacie,
and pray for him too.'

'The King would have saved my husband, Madame,' returned Eustacie. 'He
bade him to his room. It was I, unhappy I, who detained him, lest our
flight should have been hindered.'

The Queen in her turn kissed Eustacie's forehead with eager gratitude.
'Oh, little one, you have brought a drop of comfort to a heavy heart.
Alas! I could sometimes feel you to be a happier wife than I, with your
perfect trust in the brave pure-spirited youth, unwarped by these wicked
cruel advisers. I loved to look at his open brow; it was so like our
bravest German Junkers. And, child, we thought, both of us, to have
brought about your happiness; but, ah! it has but caused all this
misery.'

'No, no, dearest Queen,' said Eustacie, 'this month with all its woe has
been joy--life! Oh! I had rather lie here and die for his loss than be
as I was before he came. And NOW--now, you have given him to me for all
eternity--if but I am fit to be with him!'

Eustacie had revived so m