Pierre flew to the Convent at the hour appointed. He was at once
admitted, with a caution from Mere Esther to be calm and not agitate
the dying girl. The moment he entered the great parlor, Amelie
sprang from her seat with a sudden cry of recognition, extending her
poor thin hands through the bars towards him. Pierre seized them,
kissing them passionately, but broke down utterly at the sight of
her wasted face and the seal of death set thereon.
"Amelie, my darling Amelie!" exclaimed he; "I have prayed so long to
see you, and they would not let me in."
"It was partly my fault, Pierre," said she fondly. "I feared to let
you see me. I feared to learn that you hate, as you have cause to
do, the whole house of Repentigny! And yet you do not curse me,
dear Pierre?"
"My poor angel, you break my heart! I curse the house of
Repentigny? I hate you? Amelie, you know me better."
"But your good father, the noble and just Bourgeois! Oh, Pierre,
what have we not done to you and yours!"
She fell back upon her pillow, covering her eyes with her semi-
transparent hands, bursting, as she did so, into a flood of
passionate tears and passing into a dead faint.
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