The Count suddenly took him by the hand, and, pointing to Father George, he said, "There is hope yet, William--good hope, I am sure; the seed may lie long in the foul earth, but will germinate and bud, and grow and blossom, and bear fruit at last. Speak with this holy man: he will comfort you, he will lead you to a better forgiveness than a brother's, which is already given. A time in solitude, in thought, and prayer, will calm down remorse into repentance, and hope and peace may yet visit your latter days. I have been entangled for twenty years in earthly bonds: you in fetters that have chained the spirit. I have returned, against all likelihood, to claim that which was once mine; you will return, too, to take a former and a better nature upon you. If she so wills it, this dear girl shall go with you to comfort you." "No," exclaimed his brother,--"no. That selfishness shall be the first I will cast off. She shall remain where present duty calls her, with those who love and will cherish her. God's blessing upon you, my child! may you be happy as you deserve! and, that no thought for me may break in upon your peace, be assured that the only state in which I can now find repose, is that of solitude and thought, where, removed afar from the battlefield of the passions, I can rest after the combat in which I have been vanquished; not without pain from my wounds, and shame for my defeat, but still with the hope of recovery, and trust in the future.--Adieu! adieu!" and, disengaging his hand from Adelaide, as she bent her head over it bedewing it with tears, he turned towards the door of the chapel, and walked silently away.