“My dear mistress,” said she, “you are wrong to hold out in this matter.”  And her manner betrayed something of the peculiar agitation that had belonged to it in the former times of her secret embarassment.  “I, who have honored the family which I have so long served, above every other in the land, tell you that you can do it no greater good than to join it now, or inflict upon it any greater harm than to wilfully withdraw yourself from the position in which God has placed you.”

“And I,” said another voice, that of the Countess de Mirac, who up to this time had held herself in the background, but who now came forward and took her place with the rest, “I, who have borne the name of Blake, and who am still the proudest of them all at heart, I, the Countess de Mirac, cousin to your husband there, repeat what this good woman has said, and in holding out my hand to you, ask you to make my cousin happy and his family contented by assuming that position in his household which the law as well as his love accords you.”

The girl looked at the daintily gloved hand held out to her, colored faintly, and put her own within it.

“I thank you for your goodness,” said she, surveying with half-sad, half-admiring glances, the somewhat pale face of the beautiful brunette.

“And you will yield to our united requests?” She cast her eye down at the spot where her father and brother had cowered in their shackles, and shook her head.  “I dare not,” said she.

Immediately Mrs. Daniels, whose emotion had been increasing every moment since she last spoke, plunged her hand into her bosom and drew out a folded paper.

“Mrs. Blake,” said she, “if you could be convinced that what I have told you was true, and that you would be irretrievably injuring your husband and his interests, by persisting in that desertion of him which your purpose, would you not consent to reconsider your determination, settled as it appears to be?”

“If I could be made to see that, most certainly,” returned she in a low voice whose broken accents betrayed at what cost she remained true to her resolve.  “But I cannot.”

“Perhaps the sight of this paper will help you,” said she.  And turning to Mr. Blake she exclaimed, “Your pardon for what I am called upon to do.  A duty has been laid upon me which I cannot avoid, hard as it is for an old servant to perform.  This paper—­but it is no more than just that you, sir, should see and read it first.”  And with a hand that quivered with fear or some equally strong emotion, she put it in his clasp.

The exclamation that rewarded the act made us all start forward.  “My father’s handwriting!” were his words.

“Executed under my eye,” observed Mrs. Daniels.

His glance ran rapidly down the sheet and rested upon the final signature.

“Why has this been kept from me?” demanded he, turning upon Mrs. Daniels with sternness.