"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!"