and fro; and O mysterious human heart! gleams of
a mad fitful joy shot through her, coming quick as lightning, going as
quickly, and leaving the despair darker. And then the fierce struggle of
the soul to make itself heard! More than once she had to close her mouth
with her hand: more than once she seized her throat not to cry out. But
as the struggle endured, she got weaker and weaker, and nature mightier
and mightier. And when the wounded hero fell on his knees so close to
her; when he who had resisted death so bravely for her, prepared to give
up life calmly for her, her bosom rose beyond all control: it seemed to
fill to choking, then to split wide open and give the struggling soul
passage in one gasping sob and heart-stricken cry. Could she have pent
this in she must have died.

It betrayed her. She felt it had: so then came the woman's
instinct--flight: the coward's impulse--flight: the chaste wife's
inspiration--flight. She rushed from her hiding-place and made wildly
for the house.

But, unluckily, Camille was at that moment darting round the tree: she
ran right into the danger she meant to flee. He caught her in his arms.
He held her irresistibly. "I have got her; I have got her," he shouted
in wild triumph. "No! I will not let you go. None but God shall ever
take you from me, and he has spared you to me. You are not dead: you
have kept faith as I have: you have lived. See! look at me. I am alive,
I am well, I am happy. I told Rose that I suffered. If I had suffered
I should remember it. It is all gone at sight of you, my love! my love!
Oh, my Josephine! my love!"

His arm was firm round her waist. His glowing eyes poured love upon her.
She felt his beating heart.

All that passed in her then, what mortal can say? She seemed two women:
that part of her which could not get away from his strong arm lost all
strength to resist, it yielded and thrilled under his embrace, her bosom
heaving madly: all that was free writhed away from him; her face was
averted with a glare of terror, and both her hands put up between his
eyes and it.

"You turn away your head. Rose, she turns away. Speak for me. Scold her;
for I don't know how to scold her. No answer from either; oh, what has
turned your hearts against me so?"

"Camille," cried Rose--the tears streaming down her cheeks--"my poor
Camille! leave Beaurepaire. Oh, leave it at once."

Returned towards her with a look of inquiry.

At that Josephine, like some feeb