“A new sign—­a corroborative sign,” thought Philip; “surely there have been signs and wonders enough.  Still it may be true that masses for my father’s soul may relieve him from his state of torture.  At all events, if they decide for me, I am not to blame.  Well then, let us wait for a new sign of the Divine will—­if so it must be;” and Philip walked on, occasionally thinking on the arguments of Father Seysen, and oftener thinking of Amine.

It was now evening, and the sun was fast descending.  Philip wandered on, until at last he arrived at the very spot where he had knelt down and pronounced his solemn vow.  He recognised it; he looked at the distant hills.  The sun was just at the same height; the whole scene, the place, and the time were before him.  Again Philip knelt down, took the relic from his bosom and kissed it.  He watched the sun; he bowed himself to the earth.  He waited for a sign; but the sun sank down and the veil of night spread over the landscape.  There was no sign; and Philip rose and walked home towards the cottage, more inclined than before to follow the suggestions of Father Seysen.

On his return, Philip went softly upstairs and entered the room of Amine, whom he found awake and in conversation with the priests.  The curtain was closed, and he was not perceived.  With a beating heart he remained near the wall at the head of the bed.

“Reason to believe that my husband has arrived!” said Amine, in a faint voice.  “Oh tell me, why so?”

“His ship is arrived, we know; and one who had seen her said that all were well.”

“And why is he not here, then?  Who should bring the news of his return but himself?  Father Seysen, either he has not arrived or he is here—­I know he must be, if he is safe and well.  I know my Philip too well.  Say! is he not here?  Fear not, if you say yes; but if you say no, you kill me!”

“He is here, Amine,” replied Father Seysen—­“here and well.”

“O God!  I thank you; but where is he?  If he is here, he must be in this room, or else you deceive me.  Oh, this suspense is death!”

“I am here,” cried Philip, opening the curtains.

Amine rose with a shriek, held out her arms, and then fell senseless back.  In a few seconds, however, she was restored, and proved the truth of the good Father’s assertion, “that joy does not kill.”

We must now pass over the few days during which Philip watched the couch of his Amine, who rapidly regained her strength.  As soon as she was well enough to enter upon the subject, Philip narrated all that had passed since his departure; the confession which he had made to Father Seysen, and the result.  Amine, too glad that Philip should remain with her, added her persuasions to those of the priests, and, for some little time, Philip talked no more of going to sea.

Chapter XIV