“You will be with relations who care for you; you will be in the Castle, or—;” Gaspar stopped short, for a terrible thought flashed across him as he looked at the drooping form of his sister, that she might find a yet safer resting-place from sorrow and disgrace in the grave.
ISA’S LAST APPEAL TO HER BROTHER.
Startled by the idea, as by a spectre, Gaspar insisted on Isa’s at once retiring to seek the rest which she needed. She lingered, from the feeling that she might not be able to rise in the morning; that the languor and pain which she felt might be signs that the fatal fever was already in her veins. Isa could not leave Gaspar without one more appeal to the tempted one, whom—a secret foreboding voice seemed to whisper—she was now for the last time addressing. Isa returned back from the door to the spot where her brother was seated, softly laid her hand on his shoulder, pressed her feverish lips on his brow, and then murmured, “O Gaspar, fly not from duty! Whither can we go without having God and our conscience still beside us?” After uttering this last warning, she hastily quitted the room.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE NIGHT.
