The Golden Dog [308]
him, and then he will recognize me."
Her flowing veil was thrown back from her face. She spoke little, but her dark eyes were fixed with devouring eagerness upon the door by which she knew Pierre would come in. Her aunt supported her head upon her shoulder, while Heloise knelt at her knee and fanned her with sisterly tenderness, whispering words of sisterly sympathy in her ear.
Pierre flew to the Convent at the hour appointed. He was at once admitted, with a caution from Mere Esther to be calm and not agitate the dying girl. The moment he entered the great parlor, Amelie sprang from her seat with a sudden cry of recognition, extending her poor thin hands through the bars towards him. Pierre seized them, kissing them passionately, but broke down utterly at the sight of her wasted face and the seal of death set thereon.
"Amelie, my darling Amelie!" exclaimed he; "I have prayed so long to see you, and they would not let me in."
"It was partly my fault, Pierre," said she fondly. "I feared to let you see me. I feared to learn that you hate, as you have cause to do, the whole house of Repentigny! And yet you do not curse me, dear Pierre?"
"My poor angel, you break my heart! I curse the house of Repentigny? I hate you? Amelie, you know me better."
"But your good father, the noble and just Bourgeois! Oh, Pierre, what have we not done to you and yours!"
She fell back upon her pillow, covering her eyes with her semi- transparent hands, bursting, as she did so, into a flood of passionate tears and passing into a dead faint.
Pierre was wild with anguish. He pressed against the bars. "For God's sake, let me in!" exclaimed he; "she is dying!"
The two quiet nuns who were in attendance shook their heads at Pierre's appeal to open the door. They were too well disciplined in the iron rule of the house to open it without an express order from the Lady Superior, or from Mere Esther. Their bosoms, abounding in spiritual warmth, responded coldly to the contagion of mere human passion. Their ears, unused to the voice of man's love, tingled at the words of Pierre. Fortunately, Mere Esther, ever on the watch, came into the parlor, and, seeing at a glance the need of the hour, opened the iron door and bade Pierre come in. He rushed forward and threw himself at the feet of Amelie, calling her by the most tender appellatives, and seeking to recall her to a consciousness of his presence.
That loved, familiar voice overtook her spirit, already winging its flight from earth, and brought it back for a few minutes longer. Mere Esther, a skilful nurse, administered a few drops of cordial, and, seeing her dying condition, sent instantly for the physician and the chaplain.
Amelie opened her eyes and turned them inquiringly around the group until they fastened upon Pierre. A flash of fondness suddenly suffused her face, as she remembered how and why he was there. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him many times, murmuring, "I have often prayed to die thus, Pierre! close to you, my love, close to you; in your arms and God's, where you could receive my last breath, and feel in the last throb of my heart that it is wholly yours!"
"My poor Amelie," cried he, pressing her to his bosom, "you shall not die! Courage, darling! It is but weakness and the air of the convent; you shall not die."
"I am dying now, Pierre," said she, falling back upon her pillow. "I feel I have but a short time to live. I welcome death, since I cannot be yours. But, oh, the unutterable pang of leaving you, my dear love!"
Pierre could only reply by sobs and kisses. Amelie was silent for a few moments, as if revolving some deep thought in her mind.
"There is one thing, Pierre, I have to beg of you," said she, faltering as if doubting his consent to her prayer. "Can you, will you, accept my life for Le Gardeur's? If I die for HIM, will you forgive my poor blood-stained and deluded brother, and your own? Yes, Pierre," repeated she, as she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, "your brother, as well as mine!
Her flowing veil was thrown back from her face. She spoke little, but her dark eyes were fixed with devouring eagerness upon the door by which she knew Pierre would come in. Her aunt supported her head upon her shoulder, while Heloise knelt at her knee and fanned her with sisterly tenderness, whispering words of sisterly sympathy in her ear.
Pierre flew to the Convent at the hour appointed. He was at once admitted, with a caution from Mere Esther to be calm and not agitate the dying girl. The moment he entered the great parlor, Amelie sprang from her seat with a sudden cry of recognition, extending her poor thin hands through the bars towards him. Pierre seized them, kissing them passionately, but broke down utterly at the sight of her wasted face and the seal of death set thereon.
"Amelie, my darling Amelie!" exclaimed he; "I have prayed so long to see you, and they would not let me in."
"It was partly my fault, Pierre," said she fondly. "I feared to let you see me. I feared to learn that you hate, as you have cause to do, the whole house of Repentigny! And yet you do not curse me, dear Pierre?"
"My poor angel, you break my heart! I curse the house of Repentigny? I hate you? Amelie, you know me better."
"But your good father, the noble and just Bourgeois! Oh, Pierre, what have we not done to you and yours!"
She fell back upon her pillow, covering her eyes with her semi- transparent hands, bursting, as she did so, into a flood of passionate tears and passing into a dead faint.
Pierre was wild with anguish. He pressed against the bars. "For God's sake, let me in!" exclaimed he; "she is dying!"
The two quiet nuns who were in attendance shook their heads at Pierre's appeal to open the door. They were too well disciplined in the iron rule of the house to open it without an express order from the Lady Superior, or from Mere Esther. Their bosoms, abounding in spiritual warmth, responded coldly to the contagion of mere human passion. Their ears, unused to the voice of man's love, tingled at the words of Pierre. Fortunately, Mere Esther, ever on the watch, came into the parlor, and, seeing at a glance the need of the hour, opened the iron door and bade Pierre come in. He rushed forward and threw himself at the feet of Amelie, calling her by the most tender appellatives, and seeking to recall her to a consciousness of his presence.
That loved, familiar voice overtook her spirit, already winging its flight from earth, and brought it back for a few minutes longer. Mere Esther, a skilful nurse, administered a few drops of cordial, and, seeing her dying condition, sent instantly for the physician and the chaplain.
Amelie opened her eyes and turned them inquiringly around the group until they fastened upon Pierre. A flash of fondness suddenly suffused her face, as she remembered how and why he was there. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him many times, murmuring, "I have often prayed to die thus, Pierre! close to you, my love, close to you; in your arms and God's, where you could receive my last breath, and feel in the last throb of my heart that it is wholly yours!"
"My poor Amelie," cried he, pressing her to his bosom, "you shall not die! Courage, darling! It is but weakness and the air of the convent; you shall not die."
"I am dying now, Pierre," said she, falling back upon her pillow. "I feel I have but a short time to live. I welcome death, since I cannot be yours. But, oh, the unutterable pang of leaving you, my dear love!"
Pierre could only reply by sobs and kisses. Amelie was silent for a few moments, as if revolving some deep thought in her mind.
"There is one thing, Pierre, I have to beg of you," said she, faltering as if doubting his consent to her prayer. "Can you, will you, accept my life for Le Gardeur's? If I die for HIM, will you forgive my poor blood-stained and deluded brother, and your own? Yes, Pierre," repeated she, as she raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, "your brother, as well as mine!