But the Count put his arm round the poor little shell-maker's waist, and made her stand beside him in the midst of them all.
"Gentlemen," he said, in his calmly dignified manner, "let me present to you the Countess Skariatine. She will bear that name to-morrow. I owe you a confession before leaving you, in her honour and to my humiliation. I had contracted a debt of honour, and I had nothing wherewith to pay it. There was but an hour left—an hour, and then my life and my honour would have been gone together."
Vjera looked up into his face with a pitiful entreaty, but he would go on.
"She saved me, gentlemen," he continued. "She cut off her beautiful hair from her head, and sold it for me. But that is not the reason why she is to be my wife. There is a better reason than that. I love her, gentlemen, with all my heart and soul, and she has told me that she loves me."
He felt her weight upon him, and, looking down, he saw that she had fainted in his arms, with a look of joy upon her poor wan face which none there had ever seen in the face of man or woman.
And so love conquered.
The End.
MR. CRAWFORD'S LAST NOVEL.
KATHARINE LAUDERDALE.
TWO VOLUMES. CLOTH. $2.00.
The first of a series of novels dealing with New York life.