"They tell me I am dying," she said, hoarsely. "Do you think so?"
He smoothed back the hair on the forehead--damp already with the dews of
death. His look assured her better than the words he could not bring
himself to speak.
"My poor Arabel!"
"Arabel! Who calls me Arabel?" she asked, dreamily. "I have not heard
that name since _he_ spoke it! What a sweet voice he had! O, _so_
sweet!--but falser than Satan! O Louis, Louis! if we could go back to the
old days among the orange groves, before I sinned--when we were innocent
little children!"
"It is all over now, Arabel. You were tempted; but God is good to
forgive, if repentance is sincere."
"O, I _have_ repented! I have, indeed! And I have prayed as well as I
knew how. But my crimes are so fearful! You are sure that Christ is very
merciful?"
"Very merciful, Arabel."
"More merciful, more gentle and loving than our best friends, Louis?"
"He forgave those who crucified Him."
"O, if I could only trust Him--if I only could!"
She clasped her hands, and her pale lips moved in prayer, though there
was no audible word.
"Let me hold your hand, Louis. It gives me strength. And you were always
a friend so true and steadfast. How happy we were in those dear old
days--you, and Inez, and I! Ah, Inez--Inez! She died in her sweet
innocence, loving and beloved--died by violence; but she never lived
to suffer from the falsity of those she loved! Well, she is in
paradise--God rest her!"
The dark eyes of Castrani grew moist.
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