forsaken. These are wicked thoughts which haunt
me--only the agitation of this dreadful day, which imagination has
overwrought. Rise up and be strong! Go to thy children," said she, "and
read in their eyes that he can never leave thee!"

Forcing herself to composure, she sought her children; found Louisa
humming and singing her little boy to sleep, and her daughter nodding,
on a low stool at her feet.

"Come, my child, I will put you to sleep," said the mother, lifting her
in her arms. "Your mother will make your bed softly. When you sleep and
speak with the angels, intercede for us all."

With tender care she undressed her and bore her gently in her arms to
her bed, and, kneeling before it, breathed a prayer over her sleeping
child; then bent over the cradle of her son, blessing and kissing him.
"Sleep my boy, sleep. I know not that I shall ever see thy beautiful
eyes open again--whether I shall ever again press thee to my heart. Who
can tell if they may not come this very night to remove me to prison--to
punish me for you, my children, my beloved children!--Be calm, be calm!
I shall remain here until morning, at least," added she.

She turned to the nurse, who, with anxious face and folded hands, stood
at the farthest corner of the room. "Go, now, Louisa--go, and take
something to eat. You must be hungry and tired. Buy at the next store
what you need; but do not stop to talk with any one or repeat my name.
Then return quickly, and take care of the children. Do not trouble
yourself about me--I need nothing more."

"But you must eat something, mamselle; you must have some supper!"

Wilhelmine shook her head, refusing, and returned quickly to her own
room.

CHAPTER V. THE OATH OF FIDELITY.

Long after nightfall the nurse heard her mistress rapidly pacing her
room, and talking aloud to herself. Soon, however, Sleep spread her
soothing wings over Louisa, and she heard no more the rapid steps
and loud talking of her mistress, nor the rolling of a carriage which
stopped before the door, and the quick, vigorous steps of a man mounting
the stairs. But Wilhelmine heard them. Breathless she stood, listening
to the approaching footsteps, for she felt that they had to decide her
future--the weal and woe of her children! Was it he, her beloved, the
father of her children? or was it the king's bailiff who had followed
her, and came to seize her?

Nearer they came; the bell was hastily, violently rung. Wilhelmine
u