t the apartment, and left the
family, as you may imagine, in no very pleasant mood.

Old uncle Jacob, during the few minutes which had elapsed in the
enactment of this strange scene, sat staring wildly at Schneider, and
holding Mary on his knees: the poor little thing had fled to him for
protection, and not to her father, who was kneeling almost senseless at
the window, gazing at the executioner and his hideous preparations. The
instinct of the poor girl had not failed her; she knew that Jacob was
her only protector, if not of her life--heaven bless him!--of her honor.
"Indeed," the old man said, in a stout voice, "this must never be,
my dearest child--you must not marry this man. If it be the will of
Providence that we fall, we shall have at least the thought to console
us that we die innocent. Any man in France at a time like this, would be
a coward and traitor if he feared to meet the fate of the thousand brave
and good who have preceded us."

"Who speaks of dying?" said Edward. "You, Brother Jacob?--you would not
lay that poor girl's head on the scaffold, or mine, your dear brother's.
You will not let us die, Mary; you will not, for a small sacrifice,
bring your poor old father into danger?"

Mary made no answer. "Perhaps," she said, "there is time for escape:
he is to be here but in two hours; in two hours we may be safe, in
concealment, or on the frontier." And she rushed to the door of the
chamber, as if she would have instantly made the attempt: two gendarmes
were at the door. "We have orders, Mademoiselle," they said, "to
allow no one to leave this apartment until the return of the citizen
Schneider."

Alas! all hope of escape was impossible. Mary became quite silent for a
while; she would not speak to uncle Jacob; and, in reply to her father's
eager questions, she only replied, coldly, that she would answer
Schneider when he arrived.

The two dreadful hours passed away only too quickly; and, punctual
to his appointment, the ex-monk appeared. Directly he entered, Mary
advanced to him, and said, calmly,--

"Sir, I could not deceive you if I said that I freely accepted the offer
which you have made me. I will be your wife; but I tell you that I love
another; and that it is only to save the lives of those two old men that
I yield my person up to you."

Schneider bowed, and said,--

"It is bravely spoken. I like your candor--your beauty. As for the love,
excuse me for saying that is a matter of total indi