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Her
prayer
was
not
for
pardon
,
but
protection
.
She
supplicated
the
Virgin
to
save
him
from
his
enemies
--
her
own
friends
!
Tears
and
choking
sobs
were
mingled
with
her
words
,
low
murmured
in
the
ear
of
Heaven
.
She
had
loved
her
brother
with
the
fondest
sisterly
affection
.
She
sorrowed
sorely
;
but
her
sorrow
could
not
stifle
that
other
affection
,
stronger
than
the
ties
of
blood
.
While
mourning
her
brother
's
loss
she
prayed
for
her
lover
's
safety
.
As
she
rose
from
her
knees
,
her
eye
fell
upon
the
bow
--
that
implement
so
cunningly
employed
to
despatch
sweet
messages
to
the
man
she
loved
.
"
Oh
!
that
I
could
send
one
of
its
arrows
to
warn
him
of
his
danger
!
I
may
never
use
it
again
!
"
The
reflection
was
followed
by
a
thought
of
cognate
character
.
Might
there
not
remain
some
trace
of
that
clandestine
correspondence
in
the
place
where
it
had
been
carried
on
?
She
remembered
that
Maurice
swam
the
stream
,
instead
of
recrossing
in
the
skiff
,
to
be
drawn
back
again
by
her
own
lazo
.
He
must
have
been
left
in
the
boat
!
On
the
day
before
,
in
the
confusion
of
her
grief
,
she
had
not
thought
of
this
.
It
might
become
evidence
of
their
midnight
meeting
;
of
which
,
as
she
supposed
,
no
tongue
but
theirs
--
and
that
for
ever
silent
--
could
tell
the
tale
.
The
sun
was
now
fairly
up
,
and
gleaming
garishly
through
the
glass
.
She
threw
open
the
casement
and
stepped
out
,
with
the
design
of
proceeding
towards
the
skiff
.
In
the
balcon
her
steps
were
arrested
,
on
hearing
voices
above
.
Two
persons
were
conversing
.
They
were
her
maid
Florinde
,
and
the
sable
groom
,
who
,
in
the
absence
of
his
master
,
was
taking
the
air
of
the
azotea
.
