His heart beat generously in a thrill
of pride recalling Justine's steadfast devotion to the motherless
girl whom he had sought to entangle. "Far above rubies!" he cried,
and the memory of the fond woman who was watching for him at Lausanne,
swept over his stormy soul to bring unbidden tears to eyes which
had never flinched before the red flash of the grim cannon.
"There are still good women in the world!" he muttered, "and, God
bless you, you have taught me this, Justine!" Drawing her picture
from his bosom, he gazed fondly at the face of the gentle-hearted
daughter of the Alps. A vain and passionate regret racked his
bosom--the last struggle of his wavering soul! "Shall I turn back?"
he doubtfully cried. And then in the rush of his onward course,
a dull hopeless feeling came over him. "Kismet!" he cried. "It is
too late now. If they had only trusted me! If they had told me all
and given my fighting soul a chance to redeem the lost promise once
written on my brow. I have played a man's part before! I might,
perhaps, have won this girl's gratitude and earned Justine's love
to be a shield and a buckler to me. But--" his head, overweaned
with care, drooped down, and in the company of strange visions and
and dreams of ominous import, the hunted soldier of fortune forgot
alike the echoing voice of his better angel, and lost from view,
the shadowy faces of both the woman who had lured him to a living
death, and the tender-hearted one whose heart was glowing at
Lausanne in all the fervor of her unrequited devotion.
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