akening, she
turned to Helene.

"You did this!" she cried.

"Mr. Ritchie and I together," said the Vicomtesse.

Her next exclamation was an odd one, showing how the mind works at such a
time.

"But his Excellency was having his siesta!" said Antoinette.

Again Helene glanced at me, but I cannot be sure that she smiled.

"We thought the matter of sufficient importance to awake his Excellency,"
said Helene.

"And his Excellency?" asked Antoinette. In that moment all three of us
seemed to have forgotten the tragedy behind the wall.

"His Excellency thought so, too, when we had explained it sufficiently,"
Helene answered.

The girl seemed suddenly to throw off the weight of her grief. She
seized the hand of the Vicomtesse in both of her own.

"The Baron pardoned him?" she cried. "Tell me what his Excellency said.
Why are you keeping it from me?"

"Hush, my dear," said the Vicomtesse. "Yes, he pardoned him. Mr. Temple
was to have come to the city to-night with an officer. Mr. Ritchie and I
came to this house together, and we found--"

"Yes, yes," said Antoinette.

"Mr. Ritchie wrote to Mr. Temple that his Excellency was to send for him
to-night, but Andre told him of the fever, and he came here in the face
of danger to see her before she died. He galloped past the sentry at the
gate, and the Alcalde followed him from there."

"And came here to arrest him?" cried Antoinette. Before the Vicomtesse
could prevent her she sprang from her chair, ran to the door, and was
peering out into the darkness. "Is the Alcalde waiting?"

"No, no," said the Vicomtesse, gently bringing her back. "I wrote to his
Excellency and we have his permission for Mr. Temple to remain here."

Suddenly Antoinette stopped in the middle of the floor, facing the
candle, her hands clasped, her eyes wide with fear. We started, Helene
and I, as we looked at her.

"What is it, my dear?" said the Vicomtesse, laying a hand on her arm.

"He will take it," she said, "he will take the fever."

A strange thing happened. Many, many times have I thought of it since,
and I did not know its meaning then. I had looked to see the Vicomtesse
comfort her. But Helene took a step towards me, my eyes met hers, and in
them reflected was the terror I had seen in Antoinette's. At that
instant I, too, forgot the girl, and we turned to see that she had sunk
down, weeping, in the chair. Then we both went to her, I through some
instinct I did not fathom.

Helen