“Take, then, this package.  It contains papers and letters relative to myself, my estates, and to you.  Strictly obey the injunctions therein contained.”

“I will,” said the soldier, kneeling.

“This promise is sacred, and will make me die the happier,” she said, drawing a long sigh.  “I have explained to her you love the cause of my singular appearance here, and have exculpated you from all blame on my account.”

“Ah! but countess, it is terrible that you should have sacrificed your life to save mine.”

“Say not so; it is the only joy of this moment, for it has saved me from the curse of the suicide!” she almost whispered, drawing him closer to her side as she spoke.  “I could not live, save in the light of your eyes.  I knew you were poor, comparatively so-that fortune would place your alliance with her you have loved beyond question as to policy.  I resolved to follow you-do all in my power to make you happy—­ask of you sometimes to remember me—­and then—­”

“O, what then?” said Lorenzo Bezan, almost trembling.

“Die by my own hands, in a way that none should know!  But how much happier has Heaven ordered it.  I could have wished, have prayed for such a result; but not for one moment could I have hoped for it.  As it is I am happy.”

“And I am wretched,” said the soldier; “had the choice been offered me of thy death or mine, how quickly would I have fallen for thee, who hast been more than a sister, a dear, kind sister to me.”

The sufferer covered her face with her hands; his tender words, and his gentle accents of voice, and the truthful expression of his face, for one moment reached her hear; through its most sensitive channel!  But the struggle was only for a moment; the cold hand of death was upon her; she felt even the chill upon her system.  A slight shudder ran through her frame.  She crossed her hands upon her bosom, and closing her eyes, breathed a silent prayer, and pressed the glittering cross that hung about her neck fervently to her lips.  Then turning to the soldier she said: 

“You may well love her, general, for she is very beautiful, and worthy of you,” referring to Isabella Gonzales, who had just returned to her apartment.

“She is as lovely in person as in mind.  But, alas! must I stand here powerless, and see you, but an hour ago so perfectly well, so full of life and beauty, die without one effort to save you?”

“It is useless,” said the sufferer.  “I feel that the surgeon is correct, and I must die very shortly.”

“O, that I might save you, countess, even by mine own life!”

“You would do so, I know you would; it is so like your nature,” she said, turning her still beautiful eyes upon him.

“I would, indeed I would,” answered General Bezan.

A sweet smile of satisfaction stole over her pale features as she once more languidly closed her eyes, and once more that ominous shudder stole through her frame.