No suffering that the executioner even could inflict would equal the agony of mind through which he had passed. He clasped his hands more tightly and gazed fixedly before him, his lips moving at last, as he said in a low husky whisper: "All forsake me now. The Master of the Ceremonies must prepare for the great ceremony of the law. Oh, that it were over, and the rest were come!" He was at the lowest ebb of his misery amid his meditations and thoughts of home and the social wreck that was there with her thin baby face, when there was the distant sound of bolts being shot. Then there were steps and the rustle of a dress, the rattle of a great key in the door. Next the bolts of this were shot at top and bottom with a noisy jar; the door was thrust open, and the gaoler ushered in a veiled figure in black. Then the door was closed, the locks and bolts rattled; the heavy steps of the gaoler sounded upon the stone floor, and then the farther door opened and closed. There was a moment's silence before, with a quick rustling sound, veil and cloak were thrown aside upon the bed, and Claire's soft arms clasped the wasted, trembling form, drawing the grey careworn face down upon her breast as she sobbed out: "Father--father, has it come to this?" Denville remained silent for a few moments, and then with an exceeding bitter cry: "My child! my child!" he wailed. "I said you had forsaken me in my sore need." "Forsaken you, dear? Oh, no, no, no!" whispered Claire, fondling him as if he had been a child, and gently drawing him to the bed, upon which she sank, while he fell upon his knees before her, utterly weak and helpless now, as he yielded to the caresses she lavished upon him, and she whispered words that seemed full of comfort--forerunners of the rest he had prayed for so short a tune before. "Forsaken you?" she whispered. "Oh, my dear, dear father! How could you think it of your child!" "The world says I am a murderer, and I am in prison." "Hush!" she cried, laying her hand upon his lips. "It was only this morning I could get permission to see you." She laid her soft white hand upon his lips as she spoke, and then, seeming to make an effort and check her own emotion, she drew him closer to her. "Ah!" he sighed as he clung to her; "and I always acted so unfairly to you, my child. But tell me--May?" "She does not know," said Claire earnestly. "In her weak state it might kill her." "Perhaps better it did," said Denville solemnly. "Poor, weak, erring girl!" "Hush! Don't!" cried Claire. "Father, there is hope--there is forgiveness for us all if we show that we are indeed repentant. May is not like others. Always weak and wilful and easily turned aside from what was right. No: we must not despond. I must take you both far, far away, dear. I have come for that now. You must advise with me and help me," she said quickly. "Tell me what I am to do--what I am to set about. Come, father, quick!"