The embarrassment of Thomas Seyton increased every moment. Charged by Rudolph, who was in an adjoining room, to inform Sarah that Fleur-de-Marie was alive, he did not know how to accomplish it. The state of the countess was so critical that she might expire from one moment to another; there was, then, no time to be lost in celebrating the marriage _in extremis_ which was to legitimate the birth of Fleur-de-Marie. For this sad ceremony, the prince had brought with him a clergyman, with Murphy and Baron de Graun as witnesses; the Duke de Lucenay and Lord Douglas, notified in haste by Seyton, were to serve as witnesses for the countess, and had just arrived. Time was pressing; but remorse, feelings of maternal tenderness, which replaced, in Sarah's heart, her merciless ambition, rendered the task of Seyton still more difficult. All his hope was that his sister deceived him or deceived herself, and that her pride would be awakened, as soon as she had gained this crown, so long and ambitiously coveted. "Sister," said Thomas Seyton, "I am in a terrible perplexity; one word from me, perhaps, will restore you to life--perhaps will send you to your tomb." "I have already told you that I have no more emotions to dread." "One alone, however--" "Which?" "If it concerned your child?" "My child is dead." "If she were not?" "We have exhausted this supposition already. Enough, brother, my remorse suffices." "But if it were not a supposition? if by chance--an incredible chance--your daughter had been rescued from death; if she lived?" "You alarm me; do not talk thus." "Well, then, may God pardon me and judge you! she lives still." "My daughter?" "She lives, I tell you. The prince is here with a clergyman. I have sent for two of your friends for witnesses; the wish of your life is at length realized--the prediction is fulfilled--you are a sovereign." Thomas Seyton pronounced these words while fixing on his sister a look of anguish, watching for each sign of emotion. To his great astonishment, the features of Sarah remained almost impassible; she placed her hand upon her heart, and falling back in her chair, suppressed a slight cry, which appeared to have been caused by some sudden and excruciating pain, after which her face became composed and calm. "What is the matter, sister?" "Nothing--surprise--unhoped-for joy. At length my wishes are crowned." "I was not deceived," thought Thomas Seyton. "Ambition rules--she is saved." Then, addressing his sister, he said, "What did I tell you?" "You were right," replied she, with a bitter smile, divining her brother's thoughts; "ambition has once more stifled maternity within me." "You will live; and will love your daughter?" "I do not doubt it--I shall live--see how calm I am. Where is the prince?" "He is here." "I wish to see him before the ceremony. My daughter is here also, without doubt." "No; you will see her afterward." "Now that I have the time, ask, I pray you, the prince to come."