The suddenness of the tragedy which had taken place postponed all
further discussion.

The sunlight, streaming through the latticed windows of one of the rooms
in the Castle, shed its rays on the still form of the young girl, who
had given her life for the man she loved so well.

Beside the bed knelt Adrien Leroy, his face buried in one hand, the
other resting upon the still one that lay, white as marble, on the
silken coverlet. He had come, overwhelmed with pain, from the scene on
the terrace, to pour forth a passionate grief and remorse over this
young life that had been so generously given up to save his.

It mattered nothing to him that the dead girl was the daughter of the
man whom he had befriended, and who had used his generosity only as a
means by which to betray him; it mattered nothing that his grief might
even now be misconstrued by the tongues of the uncharitable. He knelt in
the deepest humility by the dead girl's side, deeming his life all
unworthy to have been saved at such a cost; and while he implored the
pardon of the great Creator for the follies of his past life he called
on the Almighty to hear the vows which he now made--that for the future
his steps would be in wiser paths.

When he arose from his knees his face had lost all its old languid
self-possession; there was a graver, more earnest light in his eyes, and
as his lips pressed the hand of the dead girl they muttered a farewell
vow, which was never to be forgotten from that hour till his last.