“Are you satisfied now, Elise?”

She answered him with a sweet smile, “I am thine forever!”

“And will you never forget this hour?”

“I will not forget it.  I will remember that I have sworn to follow you voluntarily from my father’s house, even against his will.”  And letting her blushing face droop upon her breast, she whispered, in a voice scarcely audible—­“I await you!”

But these words, low as they had been spoken, reached the ears of two men at the same time.  Not only Colonel Feodor, but also Bertram, who had drawn close up to Elise again, had overheard them.  The first they filled with emotions of delight, the other with painful anguish.  Bertram, however, was accustomed to wrestle with his love, and smother the expression of his pain, under the appearance of quiet composure.  He approached Elise, and offered her his hand, said, “Come sister, let us go.”

“Yes, go,” said the colonel, with the proud superiority of a preferred rival.  He extended his hand to Bertram, and continued, “Be a good brother to her, and conduct her safely home.”

Bertram’s countenance, usually so quiet and calm, assumed for an instant an offended and almost contemptuous air, and bitter words were on his tongue; but his angry eye accidentally met Elise’s, anxiously and imploringly directed toward him.  He could not master himself sufficiently to accept Feodor’s hand, but at least he could control his anger.  “Come, sister,” said he, gently leading Elise toward the door which the colonel indicated to him by a silent nod.

Elise had not the courage to leave her lover without a word of farewell; or rather, she was cruel enough to inflict this torture on Bertram.  Stretching both hands toward him, she said softly, “I thank you, Feodor; God and love will reward you for having greatly and nobly conquered yourself.”

Feodor whispered to her, “And will you remember your vow?”

“Ever and always!”

In bending over to kiss her hand, he murmured, “Expect me, then, to-morrow.”

“I will expect you,” said she, as she passed him on her way to the door.

No word of their whispered conversation escaped the attentive ear of Bertram; and he understood it, for he loved her, and knew how to read her thoughts in her looks and her eyes.  As he followed her through the long corridor, and her light, graceful figure floated before him like a vision, a deep, despairing melancholy settled on his heart, and he murmured to himself, “To-morrow she expects him!” But with desperate determination he continued to himself, “Well, then, woe to him if I find him going astray!”

* * * * *

CHAPTER X.

AN UNEXPECTED ALLY.

Thanks to Bertram’s forethought and caution, he had succeeded in restoring Elise to her father’s house, without her absence having been remarked, or having occasioned any surmise.  In the close carriage in which they performed the journey home, they had not exchanged a word; but leaning hack on the cushions, each had rest and repose after the stormy and exciting scenes they had just passed through.  Elise’s hand still rested on Bertram’s, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps because she had not the courage to withdraw it from him to whom she owed so much gratitude.