The Count’s demands brought to a head a resolve that had taken possession of Chevalier de Vaudrey’s heart and soul. Always the picture of the sweet Norman girl he had saved from de Praille’s foul clutches was in his waking thoughts, of nights he dreamed a blessed romance! He recked not of the Count’s displeasure, sorrowed that he must displease his Aunt as sorely. The only bar was that a vision of the lost Louise stood, as it were, between him and his beloved Henriette.

Now that he had come to her to speak of his proposal, the little heart still quested for the lost sister.

“Don’t you ever think of anyone but her?” he asked.

A negative shake of the golden head and ringleted curls was the answer, though the cupid mouth and the blue eyes smiled with tenderness. They stood very close to another, like poles of a magnet twixt which a spark flashes.

Silently Maurice drew from his pocket a ring. ’Twas of pure gold, a lovely and exquisite bauble, whereof the two little claws clasped a golden heart. He handed it to Henriette, who took it with a happy smile till she realized its meaning as betrothal.

A wave of color overspread her cheek. The heir of the de Vaudreys to give himself to her! Pride and love mingled in her thoughts.

Yes, to throw himself away on a Commoner girl––he meant it. Flashed the picture on her mental retina of the little solemn oath to Louise. What he asked was impossible––for him and for her.

Henriette handed back the ring.

“Marry you––an aristocrat! Why, that would ruin you in the eyes of all the world!”

He was down on his knees, pleading, agonized, distressed, looking for some sign of relentment from the beauteous little head that seemed rigidly to repress emotion.

“Then you d-o-n-’t l-o-v-e m-e?” he faltered at last, rising.

“No!” was the reply, in a firm but very small voice.

The broken Chevalier started slowly for 74 the door. He turned slightly and caught the sound of sobs.

Wheeling around, he saw her arms half stretched towards him. He bounded back.

He was now kissing the hem of her garments, her gloves, her roses, her fingertips, and crying extravagantly, almost shouting the words: “You DO love me!”

Gently Henriette imparted a maiden’s delicate kiss on his cheek. “When Louise is found––” she was half sobbing in his arms, “––dreams––yes––perhaps you might find a way to bring them true!”

But the gallant gentleman jumps forward to the end of the dream. Youthfully swearing that Louise will soon be found, he visions their exquisite happiness as of tomorrow or the day after. He holds her delightedly, then draws her closer. The kindred magnets are one.

Lips meet lips in soul-kiss that cause the maidenly head to hide under elbow in confusion. Kissing almost every part and furnishing of that dear second self––vowing never to rest till he brings Louise and takes Henriette––the ecstatic cavalier is gone!

Alas for the quickly visioned dream-facts of twenty-four! Full long shall be the interval 75 betwixt the bright Utopia and the heavenly reality:––the dungeon, the Storm, the death chamber and e’en the shining axe shall intervene.

A great Nation shall have thrown off its old tyrants and weltered in the blood of new tyranny. What matter? The souls of the girl and the man are one, they shall be faithful unto the End!