There she received these letters; they released her from her engagement and gave her absolute liberty.
Roland and his father implored her not to return in haste; explained that their intention was to leave the country in a few weeks' time and establish themselves at Paris; and added that they expected no answer, and that their resolution--impelled by simple justice to her--was irrevocable.
Their wishes were complied with.

No answer came.
Roland, his sacrifice once made, seemed calm and resigned; but he fell into a sort of languor, which made fearful progress and hinted at a speedy and fatal termination, for which in fact he seemed to long.

One evening they had taken him to the lime-tree terrace at the foot of the garden.

He gazed with absent eye on the tints with which the setting sun purpled the glades of the wood, while his father paced the terrace with long strides-smiling as he passed him and hastily brushing away a tear as he turned his back.
Suddenly Elise de Tecle appeared before them, like an angel dropped from heaven.

She knelt before the crippled youth, kissed his hand, and, brightening him with the rays of her beautiful eyes, told him she never had loved him half so well before.