Prisoners of Chance

The brown head drooped until it rested in unconsciousness against my arm, while I could feel the sobs which shook her form and choked her utterance.

"It has come," she whispered at last; "I am trusting in your promise."

"Nor in vain; my life is at your command."

She stopped my passionate utterance with quick, impulsive gesture.

"No! pledge not yourself again until you hear my words, and ponder them," she cried, with return to that imperiousness of manner I had loved so well. "This is no ordinary matter. It will try your utmost love; perchance place your life in such deadly peril as you never faced before. For I must ask of you what no one else would ever venture to require--nor can I hold out before you the slightest reward, save my deepest gratitude."

I gazed fixedly at her flushed face, scarcely comprehending the strange words she spoke.

"What may all this be that you require--this sacrifice so vast that you doubt me? Surely I have never stood a coward, a dastard in your sight?"

She stood erect, facing me, proudly confident in her power, with tears still clinging to her long lashes.

"No! you wrong me uttering such a thought. I doubt you not, although I might well doubt any other walking this earth. But listen, and you can no longer question my words; this which I dare ask of you--because I trust you--is to save my husband."

"Your husband?" The very utterance of the word choked me. "Your husband? Save him from what? Where is he?"

"A prisoner to the Spaniards; condemned to die to-morrow at sunrise."

"His name?"

"Chevalier Charles de Noyan."

"Where confined?"

"Upon the flag-ship in the river."

I turned away and stood with my back to them both. I could no longer bear to gaze upon her agonized face uplifted in such eager pleading, such confiding trust; that one sweet face I loved as nothing else on earth.

Save her husband! For the moment it seemed as if a thousand emotions swayed me. What might it not mean if this man should die? His living could only add infinitely to my pain; his death might insure my happiness--at least he alone, as far as I knew, stood in the way. "To die to-morrow!" The very words sounded sweet in my ears, and it would be such an easy thing for me to promise her, to appear to do my very best--and fail. "To die to-morrow!" The perspiration gathered in drops upon my forehead as I wavered an instant to the tempting thought. Then I shook the foul temptation from me. Merciful God! could I dream of being such a dastard? Why not attempt what she asked? After all, what was left for me in life, except to give her happiness?