"She is not lost to you. Sir,--you are not lost to her," cried
Elizabeth, in a voice as strong as breaks sometimes through dying
agony.

"I know," said he, more gently. His thought was not the same as hers;
he was taking refuge in that future which remains to the loving when
this life wholly fails in hope.

"You shall go back to that old place, Sir! You shall--you two--shall
forget all this!"

The prisoner smiled to hear her,--a sad smile, yet a sweet smile too.
He did not despise the comfort she would give him, nor resent her
presumptuous speech.

"As when I dream sometimes," said he, gently,--"or in some pleasant
vision. Yes, that is true, Elizabeth. I have been back, and I shall
go again."

Vehemently now she broke forth. It was love defying the whole
universe, if the whole universe opposed itself to the sovereign
rights of love, the divine strength and the divine courage of love.
--"You shall go on board some vessel, a passenger; you shall see
with your own eyes; your hands shall be free to gather the sweetest
rose that--ever blossomed in the world for you. Mr. Manuel, do not
look so doubting,--do not smile so! Am I not in earnest? Do you not
hear me? As God lives, and as I live, I will do what I promise. Why,
what do you think I am here for?"