Promise me, Jacqueline," he exclaimed,
eagerly, as though he felt himself among defences here, with her.
"What shall I promise, Victor?" she asked, with the voice and the look
of one who is ready for any deed of daring, for any work of love.
"I, too, have preached this word."
Her only comment was, "I know you preached it well."
"What has befallen others may befall me."
"Well."
So strongly, so confidently did she speak this word, that the young man
went on, manifestly influenced by it, hesitating no more in his speech.
"May befall me," he repeated.
"'Whosoever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live,'"
she answered, with lofty voice, repeating the divine word. "What is our
life, that we should hold it at the expense of his Truth? Mazurier was
wrong. He can never atone for the wrong he has done."
"I believe it!" exclaimed Victor, with a brightening countenance. The
clouds of doubt rose from his face and floated away, as we see the mists
ascending from the heights, when we are so happy as to live in the wild
hill-country. "You prize Truth more than life. Stand with me in this,
Jacqueline. Speak of this Truth as it has come to me. You are all that
I have left. I have lost Mazurier. Jacqueline, you are a woman, but you
never,--yes! yes! though I dare not say as much of myself, I dare say
it of you,--you never could have bought your liberty at such a price as
Martial has paid.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67