And she! Tides of blood rolled up and over bosom, cheek, and brow, like flame, and passed, and then she grew faint and weak in his grasp, the color all paled in her cheeks, leaving them snowy white; the light fled from her eyes, leaving them dim and heavy with drooping lids—aye, the very brightness seemed to fade from her golden ringlets, leaving the pale yellow hair falling away from ashy brows and temples—she seemed fainting, dying in his embrace; alarmed, he looked at her—his reason returned—he bore her to the sofa, and laying her on it knelt by her side, gazed mournfully at her, half believing her to be expiring. “Rosalia! oh, God! what have I done!” She shuddered from head to foot. “Rosalia! oh, I am _so_ sorry, _so_ sorry, Rose!” She raised her heavy eyelids languidly, and fixed them sorrowfully on his face, then dropped them as a quick flush spread over her face, faded, and left her pale, paler than ever. “Rose! Rose! forgive me, I was mad, mad.” Again she looked at him mournfully, her pale lips moved, but no sound came thence. “Rosalia! oh, Rosalia! speak to me—say that you forgive me, or put your hand in mine in token of forgiveness!” She raised one pale hand feebly, but it fell heavily upon the sofa again. “You _do_ forgive me, Rosalia, my pure angel! my holy angel! you _do_ forgive me!” Rosalia shook her head sadly—Raymond dropped his face into his hands and groaned; soon he felt his hands touched by a soft hand that struck the whole “electric chain” of his being; dropping his hands he saw Rosalia looking sadly, lovingly at him, murmuring very faintly, “Forgive _me_, the fault was _mine_—mine _first_, mine _only_; the sin of ignorance—alas! I have nothing to forgive! forgive _me_!” “Rose! my Rose!” She sighed deeply. He knelt by her side and gazed mournfully in her face. She could not bear that gaze; raising her hands feebly she spread them over her face. He groaned “God! my God! why do I love you so! she was right after all—poor Hagar!” Deep sighs broke from Rosalia’s bosom; she made many feeble attempts to rise and go away; he did not attempt to prevent her; but an overpowering weakness overcame her; she yielded to the spell that held her enchained, and so she lay—her face concealed by the veil of golden curls she had dragged across it; her frame shuddering from time to time until she sank in the collapse of exhaustion. And there he knelt—reproaching himself bitterly, yet sinning on—gazing eagerly with his lips struck apart at her pale cheek through its glittering veil of hair, watching, silently praying for a responsive glance. At last, he said, “Rosalia! darling Rose, go to your room, love; it is not safe or well to stay here—go, Rose,” she gave him her hand, and he raised her up.