In this strange cowardice there was something so terrible, yet so touching, that it became sublime,--it was the grasp of a drowning soul at the last plank.
"You are right perhaps," he said, after a pause; and wisely forbearing all taunt and resistance, he left the heart to its own workings.
Suddenly, Lucretia caught at the check-string.

"Stop," she exclaimed,--"stop! I will not, I cannot, endure this suspense to last through a life! I will learn the worst.

Bid him drive back." "We must descend and walk; you forget we must enter unsuspected;" and Dalibard, as the carriage stopped, opened the door and let down the steps.
Lucretia recoiled, then pressing one hand to her heart, she descended, without touching the arm held out to her.

Dalibard bade the coachman wait, and they walked back to the house.
"Yes, he may see her," exclaimed Lucretia, her face brightening.

"Ah, there you have not deceived me; I see your stratagem,--I despise it; I know she loves him; she has sought this interview.