"Bess! O, Bess! is that you? O, Bessie! do you know? He has given himself up. Anthony! Anthony!" She cowered no more; her bosom labored, and she bowed herself, with her head in her lap, and wept again.
Bessie put her hand under her arm, and raised her. "Stand up, Julian. I did not know it; but I was quite sure he would do this. I am glad he has. It was right."
"Bess, you are glad?"
"It is like himself; he has done right. He is my own dear, dear Anthony."
"O Bess!—such a death!"
"The death does not dishonour; to live would have dishonoured. He has done right."
"He has betrayed my love!" gasped Julian, "and I should be glad he died, yet—I cannot bear it. Indeed—indeed, I cannot. O Bess! I would that it were I who was to die—not he. Bess! will they take me and let him go? He has been false to me, and I am true to him."
"He has not been false to you," said Bessie; "he has come to a sense of the wrong course he was engaged in, into which you drew him. But he never was false to you, for he never cared for you. Come! poor unhappy girl. I know how full of sorrow you must be—so must all who love Tony."
"But, Bess! is there no way of saving him?"
Elizabeth shook her head, and said:—