Again his ear was to her lips. "Doubt it not, madame. Every consolation." She whispered something more; it lasted longer, and was more earnest this time. Her head was nodding on her shoulders, and her eyes were turned up to his dark energetic face, imploringly. "You can't do that, madame--it is not yours--you have given it to God." The woman turned her eyes on him with a piteous look. "No, madame," he said, sharply; "it is too late to withhold a part. This, madame, is temptation--a weakness of earth; the promises are to her that overcometh." Her only answer was an hysterical whimper and imperfect sobbing. "Be calm," he resumed. "It is meritorious. Discharge your mind of it, and the memory of your sacrifice will be sweeter, and its promise more glorious the nearer you draw to your darkest hour on earth." She had another word to say; her fingers were creeping on the coverlet to his hand. "No, madame, there won't be any struggle--you will faint, that is all, and waken, we trust among the blest. I'm sorry I can't stay just now. But Father Edwyn is here, and Dr. Garnet." Again she turned her wavering head towards him, and lifted her eyes, as if to speak. "No, no, you must not exert yourself--husband your strength--you'll want it, madame." It was plain, however, she would have one last word more, and a little sourly he stooped his ear again. "Pardon me, madame, I never said or supposed that after you signed it you were still at liberty to deal with any part; if you have courage to take it back, it is another matter. I won't send you before the Judge Eternal with a sacrilege in your right hand." He spoke quietly, but very sternly, raising his finger upward, with his eyes fixed upon her, while his dark face looked pale. She answered only with the same helpless whimper. He beckoned to the nun. "Let me see that book." He looked through its pages. "Read aloud to madame the four first elevations; agony is near." As he passed from the room, he beckoned the lady in the religious habit again, and whispered in her ear in the lobby: "Lock this door, and admit none but those you know." He went down this time to the front drawing-room, and entered it suddenly. Mr. Carmel was seated there, with candles beside him, reading. Down went his book instantly, and he rose. "Our good friend upstairs won't last beyond three or four hours--possibly five," began Monsieur Droqville. "Garnet will be here in a few minutes; keep the doors bolted! people might come in and disturb the old lady. You need not mind now. I locked the hall-door as I came in. Why don't you make more way with Miss Ware? Her mother is no obstacle--favourable rather. Her father is a mere pagan, and never at home; and the girl likes you." Mr. Carmel stared.