“Madame Catherine is innocent at last,” cried Bruno, unable longer to restrain himself, as they neared the house. “Thank God! she is innocent.” Sidonie heard these words and staggered as though struck to the heart. No word of gratitude for her noble effort to save him crossed his lips. His one thought was for Catherine. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIX. CATHERINE’S LAST WORDS. Forty-eight hours later the gamekeeper was buried. L’Ours, leaving the cemetery with Sidonie, passed the cottage of Mother Mathurine. “Bruno,” said he, stopping at the gate, “Madame Catherine wishes to see you.” “Me?” asked Bruno, turning pale. Sidonie visibly trembled as, noticing his expression, she inwardly said: “How he loves her!” “What does she want of me?” demanded Bruno, with glowing face, when he had recovered his self-possession. A wild dream that she, now being free, could love him filled his heart with rapture. “She wishes to do what is right,” replied Jean, “and has a word to say to you.” “Must I go at once?” “Yes.” “Well, I am ready.” “Come, little one. You must accompany us.” “Oh, no! Why should I go?” “Because she wishes to speak to you, too.” A quarter of an hour afterward the three entered Catherine’s presence. “Thanks, Jean, for bringing them here; and you, my young friends, I thank you for coming.” “Now I must go,” said Jean. “Good-by--all.” He opened the door, and Sidonie watched him anxiously as he departed. Catherine asked them to be seated. She was no longer the charming, gracious woman they had known. Two days of sorrow and shame and remorse had changed her into a sad-eyed woman, and every feature betrayed the suffering she had undergone. She extended her hand to little Sidonie. “You love Bruno, little one, do you not? Tell me frankly.” “Yes,” murmured Sidonie, hiding her blushing face. “Then, my children, you must be married. My shadow must not stand between you.” Bruno quickly rose. “No, no, Madame. If I were to marry, I should choose Sidonie. But I shall never marry.” “Why?” “You know the reason, Madame.” “Because of your love for me?” Bruno was silent. “You are wrong. A strange infatuation has governed you, which time and our brave little Sidonie will cure. At heart I am responsible for my husband’s death, because I wished it, and I even suggested to two men the idea of avenging me. One of those men was Firmin; the other was you, Bruno.” Bruno here made an impatient gesture, as though to silence her. But she continued in a low tone: “You see, it was not for the sake of friendship, but to be revenged. But I did not deceive you. You thought me guilty.” Bruno again tried to quiet her. “Do not deny it, Bruno. When you confessed the crime it was to shield me, for you believed me guilty. And so I was in intent, though I did not perform the deed. All night I waited expecting to hear the shot which should make me free. At last it came. And oh, the agony of that moment!”