"Merciful God! her senses are leaving her!" exclaimed Villiers, in a frantic tone: then, throwing his arms around her, he said, "Adelais—my beloved Adelais—Clarence is here—by your side! Oh! look not at me so strangely, Adelais—do you not know me?—speak—speak!—I am Clarence—your husband—he who loves, who adores you! My God! she does not recognise me!"
And the young man started back, dashing his right hand with the violence of despair against his forehead; while Adelais remained motionless in the chair, gazing on him with a kind of vacant wonderment,—and the miserable father staggered against the wall for support, murmuring in a tone of ineffable emotion, "Great God! where will all this end?"
But at that moment the heavy bolts were drawn back—the door opened—Adelais uttered a scream of mingled amazement and delight—and in an instant Rosamond was clasped in her arms.
Long and fervent was that embrace on the part of the sisters: nor were Torrens and Clarence Villiers alone the witnesses thereof—for the heavy door of the stone cell had, ere it closed again, given admittance to Esther de Medina.
Fortunate for Adelais was it that Rosamond appeared at such a moment,—a moment when the reason of the young bride was rocking on its throne, and the weight of an idea no heavier than a hair would decide whether it were to be re-established on its seat or overturned for ever!
Faint and overcome by the sudden revulsion of feeling produced by this sudden meeting with her sister, Adelais slowly disengaged herself from Rosamond's arms, and falling back in the chair, beckoned Clarence towards her, saying, "My dearest husband—keep near me—stay with me—for I know not what dreadful ideas have been passing in my mind;—and it seemed to me for a time that I was in utter darkness—or that I was buried in a profound sleep."
"But you are better now, dearest?" exclaimed Clarence, overjoyed at this sudden return of her senses.
"Yes—I am better now," said Adelais; and, falling upon her husband's neck, she burst into a flood of tears.
Meantime Rosamond was weeping also in her father's arms; and the eyes of the generous-hearted—the amiable Esther de Medina were overflowing at the contemplation of this mournful and touching scene.
"Father—father," murmured Rosamond, her voice almost suffocated with the sobs which agitated her bosom,—"there is hope—every hope——"