Madame de Montrevel fell upon her knees beside her daughter’s bed.
Then Amélie, as though an invisible hand had loosened the bonds that held her rigid body to the bed, rose slowly, parted the hands that were clasped upon her breast, and let one fall slowly into those of her mother.
“Mother,” she said, “you gave me life and you have taken it from me; I bless you. It was a mother’s act. There was no happiness possible for your daughter in this life.”
Then, letting her other hand fall into that of Roland, who was kneeling on the other side of the bed, she said: “We have forgiven each other, brother?”
“Yes, dear Amélie,” he replied, “and from the depths of our hearts, I hope.”
“I have still one last request to make.”
“What is it?”
“Do not forget that Lord Tanlay has been my best friend.”
“Fear nothing,” said Roland; “Lord Tanlay’s life is sacred to me.”
Amélie drew a long breath; then in a voice which showed her growing weakness, she said: “Farewell, mother; farewell, Roland; kiss Edouard for me.”