“Why not your heaven, as well as mine, Raoul?” Ghita answered tremulously.  “It is as vast as He who dwells in it—­whose throne it is—­and can contain all who love Him, and seek his mercy.”

“Dost thou think one like me would be received into his presence, Ghita?”

“Do not doubt it—­free from all error and weakness Himself, his Holy Spirit delights in the penitent and the sorrowful.  Oh! dearest, dearest Raoul, if thou wouldst but pray!”

A gleam like that of triumph glowed on the face of the wounded man; and Ghita, in the intensity of her expectation, rose and stood over him, her own features filled with a momentary hope.

“Mon Feu-Follet!” exclaimed Raoul, letting the tongue reveal the transient thought which brought the gleam of triumph to his countenance.  “Thou, at least, hast escaped!  These English will not count thee among their victims, and glut their eyes on thy charming proportions!”

Ghita felt a chill at her heart.  She fell back on her seat, and continued watching her lover’s countenance with a feeling of despair, though inextinguishable tenderness was still crowding around her soul.  Raoul heard the movement; and turning his head he gazed at the girl for quite a minute, with a portion of that intense admiration that used to gleam from his eyes in happier moments.

“It is better as it is, Ghita,” he said, “than that I should live without thee.  Fate has been kind in thus ending my misery.”

“Oh, Raoul I there is no fate but the holy will of God.  Deceive not thyself at this awful moment; bow down thy proud spirit in humility, and turn to Him for succor!”

“Poor Ghita!—­Well, thine is not the only innocent mind by millions that hath been trammelled by priests; and, I suppose, what hath commenced with the beginning will last till the end.”

“The beginning and the end are both with God, Raoul.  Since the commencement of time hath he established laws which have brought about the trials of thy life—­the sadness of this very hour.”

“And dost thou think he will pardon all thy care of one so unworthy?”

Ghita bowed her head to the mattress over which she leaned, and buried her face in her hands.  When the minute of prayer that succeeded was over, and her face was again raised with the flush of feeling tempered by innocence on it, Raoul was lying on his back, his eyes riveted again on the vault of heaven.  His professional pursuits had led him further into the study of astronomy than comported with his general education; and, addicted to speculation, its facts had often seized upon his fancy, though they had failed to touch his heart.  Hitherto, indeed, he had fallen into the common error of limited research, and found a confirmation of his suspicions in the assumed grasp of his own reason.  The dread moment that was so near could not fail of its influence, however; and that unknown future over which he hung, as it might be, suspended by a hair, inevitably led his mind into an inquiry after the unknown God.