This was soon followed by a second
one, which urged Bayard to go to her: her health and strength were
failing, it said, and there were great hopes of her recovering her
senses before death. His name, it further stated, was ever on her
lips.
"Bayard had a terrible struggle with his pride and his passions. He
walked the room through the whole of one livelong night, sighing and
moaning, and talking to himself in muttered syllables--mamma and I
could hear him, and he prayed unceasingly, again and again. I renewed
my promises and my life oblation. Towards morning Bayard grew calmer
and when the sun rose he unlocked his door and came to seek us in our
seclusion. How pale his handsome face had grown! How wild and
dishevelled his wavy hair! How marked were the lines of misery and
care around his mouth and eyes! He came to my bed and leaned tenderly
over me, I could see the traces of his recent conflict so plainly
then."
"'Good-bye, little sister,' he said, 'I am going away for a few days,
take care of yourself during my absence,--and pray for me.' He kissed
me with his cold, dry lips and turned away. When he came back a week
later there was a peaceful sadness where his misery had been. He had
seen Inez again; had sat by her death-bed and held her dying hand in
generous forgiveness. He believed her then that she sorely repented of
her past. Her dark hair had turned almost white, and where rich curves
of beauty had marked the outlines of her face and form there were
hollows and angles of emaciation and suffering.
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