l die without one particle of that insatiate ambition which
has been your return! By what fatality has your repentance been delayed
till now?"

"Though tardy, it is sincere; and I call Heaven to witness that, at
this awful moment, I bless God for removing me from this world, and that
I am spared the additional misery of living, as I am aware I should have
been a weight and burden to you, as well as a bar to your happiness
elsewhere. But can you pardon me? For mercy's sake, say you do! Do not
delay to speak forgiveness and peace to my troubled spirit until the
arrival of my child, for in her presence you would not choose to
pronounce the pardon of her guilty mother. It would be to tell her a
tale I would fain she never knew. You will not refuse me the hope that,
when I am gone, my memory may be dear to her?"

"Tranquillise yourself, she shall know nothing of the past."

"Rodolph, do you too say I am forgiven! Oh, forgive me--forgive me! Can
you not pity a creature brought low as I am? Alas, my sufferings might
well move your heart to pity and to pardon!"

"I do forgive you from my innermost soul!" said the prince, deeply
affected.

The scene was most heartrending. Rodolph opened the folding-doors, and
beckoned in the clergyman with the company assembled there, that is to
say, Murphy and Baron de Grauen as witnesses on the part of Rodolph, and
the Duc de Lucenay and Lord Douglas on the part of the countess; Thomas
Seyton followed close behind. All were impressed with the awful
solemnity of the melancholy transaction, and even M. de Lucenay seemed
to have lost his usual petulance and folly.

The contract of marriage between the most high and powerful Prince
Gustave Rodolph, fifth reigning Duke of Gerolstein, and Sarah Seyton of
Halsburg, Countess Macgregor, which legitimised the birth of
Fleur-de-Marie, had been previously drawn up by Baron de Grauen, and,
being read by him, was signed by the parties mentioned therein, as well
as duly attested by the signature of their witnesses.

Spite of the countess's repentance, when the clergyman, in a deep solemn
voice, inquired of Rodolph whether his royal highness was willing to
take Sarah Seyton of Halsburg, Countess Macgregor, for his wife, and the
prince had replied in a firm, distinct voice, "I will," the dying eyes
of Sarah shone with unearthly brilliancy, an expression of haughty
triumph passed over her livid features,--the last flash of expiring
ambition.

Not a wo