“That may not be. I feel the destroyer busily at work here, undermining the citadel,” responded the other, placing his hand on that part of his chest where the bullet had entered. “But I regret not having made the poor sacrifice of my life for so righteous a cause. And though I shall not live to see the happiness I would be the means of imparting, yet the wish and the duty of doing what I proposed to that end remains to be fulfilled, and for this purpose I have requested your presence.” The speaker here paused, as if at a loss how he should open the subject which seemed to rest on his mind. But at length he resumed:-- “Miss Haviland, what you have done and suffered for the cause, in which you so nobly took your stand, is known to many. The part you have acted in the events of this day is known to still more; but have not those events had a bearing on your happiness beyond what would arise from the bare liberation of your person?” “They have, sir,” replied the maiden, frankly, but with an air of surprise at the unexpected question. “And have I been correctly informed, by the person who has just left us, and who has long been my confidential friend and adviser, that, by the relinquishment of a certain contract, you are now left free to bestow your hand on one whose character and feelings may be more congenial with your own?” “Why am I questioned in so unusual a manner, and by one so much a stranger?” asked the former, in a half-remonstrating, half-beseeching tone. “I knew,” rejoined the other, “that you, as well as the rest of those present, might, at first, wonder why and how I should have kept myself apprised, as I confess I have long done, of all that concerned the individual interests, and even inclinations, as far as could be conjectured, of each of you. And I know, also, that my ways are not like those of other men. But cannot you trust to the motives of a dying man, and let him proceed in his own manner?” “I can--I will, Father Herriot,” answered Sabrey, touched by the appeal. “And I will not affect to misunderstand you. I have been freed from fetters under which I have suffered--perhaps unnecessarily--both persecution and embarrassment of feeling. And I am thankful,” she continued, throwing a grateful glance to Woodburn--“greatly thankful for that generous forbearance by which this was effected without bloodshed. Yes, I am free, doubly free; but whoever takes me,” she added, slightly coloring, “must now receive a penniless bride.”