trembling, affrighted, perhaps on the verge of such an existence, with the knowledge of evil in her eyes and the shrinking from sin haply not yet overcome in her heart. What future was there for this poor Therese, full of good and evil impulses, born of a race of slaves, bred with the tastes and ambitions of a refined gentlewoman, in whose veins surged the evil passions to which she owed her birth, in whose soul burned an inextinguishable hunger for a higher life?
When at last Philip came into Madame Anna's chamber, he found the Magdalen lying peacefully at rest, with Therese sleeping in the chair beside her from sheer exhaustion. The girl's eyes were swollen with weeping, and her slumber was broken by frequent sighs. The patient's face wore a calm look; and when he touched her hand, Philip knew that her sleep would know no waking.
In the days that followed, Philip learned that Madame Anna's house and land and all her other property had been willed to Therese for her sole use and pleasure. He never learned of the condition on which this rich legacy was given, nor of the solemn vow to observe it that Therese had made, with no other witness than the dying woman. The money that had been so miserably earned was to be expended, not in requiem masses for the dead, but in a man-
