"And I was so innocent once, and did not know what sorrow was, and felt such gladness, at the sight of the sky, of the stars, of the flowers,--at the very breath of spring upon my cheek! O, I wonder if the old home stands there yet,--and the nook in the forest, don't you remember, Ernest? I was so happy, so happy then! And now I am dying--dying,--but you are near. You forgive me, Ernest, do you not?" "Forgive you!" he echoed, raising his face, and spreading forth his clasped hands, "God's blessing and His consolation be upon you now and forever! And His curse,--" a look of hatred, which stamped every lineament of his face, revealed the intensity of his soul,--"and His curse be upon those, who brought you to this!" As he spoke, the death damps began to glisten on her forehead; a glassy look began to vail the intense brightness of her eyes. "Your hand, sit by me,--" she said faintly, "I shall sleep soon." He drew his chair to her side, and softly put his hand upon her forehead,--it was cold as marble. "It is good to go thus,--with Ernest by me,--and in token of forgiveness too, with his hand upon my forehead--" Her words were interrupted by a footstep and a voice. "Frank! Frank! where are you! I have triumphed!--triumphed! The one child is out of my way, and the other is in my power!" It was Colonel Tarleton, who rushed to the light, his face lividly pale, and disfigured by wounds, his right arm carried in a sling. He had not seen his daughter since the hour when he left the Temple, before the break of day. And now, faint with loss of blood, and yet strong in the consciousness of his triumph, he rushed into the death-room of his child. "I have had a hard time, Frank, but the game is won! The estate is ours! The other son of Gulian Van Huyden is in my power,--" The words died on his lips. He beheld the dark form of the stranger, and the face of his dying child. The young form clad in a shroud; the countenance pale with death; the large eyes, whose brightness was vailed in a glassy film,--he saw this sad picture at a glance, but could not believe the evidence of his senses. "Why, Frank, what's all this?" he cried, as with his pale face, marked by wounds, he stood before his daughter. She slowly raised her eyes, and regarded him with a sad smile. "The poison, father,--I drank it myself; _he_ went forth from this house safe from all harm--" Her voice failed. Tarleton uttered a frightful cry, and fell like a dead man on the floor, his face against the carpet. The reality of the scene had burst upon him; in the hour of his triumph he saw his schemes,--the plans woven through the long course of twenty-one years and darkened by hideous crimes,--leveled in a moment to the dust. Frank slowly turned her head, and fixed her glassy eyes upon the face of Ernest,--O, the intensity of that long and yearning gaze! "I am weary and cold," she gasped, "but it is light yonder."