"Florence," said the countess softly, taking his hand in hers, "at this miserable time, do not let us exaggerate our sorrows. Let us rather bear up together against our misfortunes. All hope is not dead for us. Something yet remains, for Mary of Lorraine is my friend, and hope whispers to me that we shall both be happy yet."
"Together, Madeline?"
"Together."
"And you my wife?"
She did not reply, but returned gently the pressure of his hand, and then tenderly passed hers over his tearful and bloodshot eyes.
"Bless you, Madeline, for that assurance and the hope it gives me: but your kinsman, Claude——"
"Remember only that I love you, Florence—for I do love you, dearly."
"These words should lighten everything. When you are near me I no longer seem to suffer aught from recollection of the past, or dread of the future. Even this dark, dank cavern becomes bright and beautiful!"
Madeline smiled, for he could see her eyes sparkle, and her teeth glitter like two rows of pearl in the twilight.
"You smile now, dear and merry one, even in this place, and after such a day of woe."