"Have a care, my lord,--the moments are precious,--mine are possibly numbered! As my brother said, the present trial may kill or cure me. I am now struggling, with all my power, with all the energy I possess, against the exhaustion occasioned by the discovery just made to me. I demand to see my daughter, or otherwise I refuse the hand you offer me, and, if I die before the performance of the marriage ceremony, her birth can never be legitimised!" "But Fleur-de-Marie is not here; I must send for her." "Then do so instantly, and I consent to everything you may propose; and as, I repeat, my minutes are probably numbered, the marriage can take place while they are conducting my child hither." "Although 'tis a matter of surprise to hear such sentiments from you, yet they are too praiseworthy to be treated with indifference. You shall see Fleur-de-Marie; I will write to her to come directly." "Write there--on that desk--where I received my death-blow!" While Rodolph hastily penned a few lines, the countess wiped from her brows the cold damps that had gathered there, while her hitherto calm and unmovable features were contracted by a sudden spasmodic agony, which had increased in violence from having been so long concealed. The letter finished, Rodolph arose and said to the countess: "I will despatch this letter by one of my aides-de-camp; she will be here in half an hour from the time my messenger departs. Shall I, upon my return to you, bring the clergyman and persons chosen to witness our marriage, that we may at once proceed?" "You may,--but no, let me beg of you to ring the bell; do not leave me by myself; let Sir Walter despatch the letter, and then return with the clergyman." Rodolph rang; one of Sarah's attendants answered the summons. "Request my brother to send Sir Walter Murphy here," said the countess, in a faint voice. The woman went to perform her mistress's bidding. "This marriage is a melancholy affair, Rodolph," said the countess, bitterly, "I mean as far as I am concerned; to you it will be productive of happiness." The prince started at the idea. "Nay, be not astonished at my prophesying happiness to you from such a union; but I shall not live to mar your joys." At this moment Murphy entered. "My good friend," said the prince, "send this letter off to my daughter. Colonel ---- will be the bearer of it, and he can bring her back in my carriage; then desire the minister and all concerned in witnessing the marriage ceremony to assemble in the adjoining room." "God of mercy!" cried Sarah, fervently clasping her hands as the squire disappeared, "grant me strength to fold my child to my heart! Let me not die ere she arrives!" "Alas! why were you not always the tender mother you now are?"