CHAPTER XXV.
Est-ce donc une monnaie que votre amour, pour qu'il puisse passer ainsi de main en main jusqu'a la mort?
Non, ce n'est pas meme une monnaie; car la plus mince piece d'or vaut mieux que vous, et dans quelques mains qu'elle passe elle garde son effigee .-- A.

DE MUSSET.
Wentworth came in the morning, tremulous, eager, holding Michael by the shoulders, as he used to do when Michael was a small boy, as he had never done since.
The brothers looked long at each other with locked hands, water in their eyes.
"Wenty," said Michael at last, with his grave smile.
And that was all.
They sat down together in silence on the little bed.

Wentworth tried to speak once or twice, but it was no use.
"Fay cried with joy at the news," he said at last, looking with shy hungry love at his brother.

"If you could have seen her radiant face.

I never saw any creature so changed, so transfigured." A faint flush rose to Michael's face.
"I know how she grieved over your imprisonment.