rt. The
effect was what she anticipated. She knew this woman's expressed
intention was deliberate, and would be carried out. One hand moved
toward her lean bosom, and Joan knew, without doubt, what she had to
face. Turning her back deliberately she moved across to the window,
which was wide open in a vain attempt to cool the superheated room,
and took up her place near the table, so that she was in full view of
her aunt's insane eyes. Then she went on at once--

"You call it justice that you would mete out to the Padre. I tell you
it is a ruthless, cold-hearted revenge, which amounts to deliberate
murder. It is murder because you know he cannot prove his innocence.
That, perhaps, is your affair. But Buck's life is mine. And in
threatening the Padre you threaten him, because he will defend his
friend to the last. Perhaps by this, in your insane vanity, you hope
to justify yourself as a seer and prophetess, instead of being
forced to the admission that you are nothing but a mountebank, an
unscrupulous mountebank--and even worse. But I will humor you. I will
show you how your own words are coming back on you. I had almost
forgotten them, so lost was I in my foolish belief in your powers. You
told me there was salvation for me in a love that was stronger than
death. Well, I have found that love. And if, as you claim, there is
truth in your science, then I challenge you, the disaster and death
you would now bring about cannot--will not take place. You are only a
woman of earthly powers, a heartless creature, half demented by your
venomous hatred of a good man. Your ends can, and will be defeated."

She paused, breathing hard with the emotion which the effort of her
denunciation had inspired, and in that pause she beheld a vision of
devilish hatred and purpose such as she could never have believed
possible in her aunt.

"You would rebel! You challenge me!" cried Mercy, springing from her
chair with a movement almost unbelievable in so ailing a creature.
"You are mad--utterly mad. It is not I who am insane, but you--you.
You call me a mountebank. What has your life been? Has not everything
I have told you been part of it? Even here--here. Did I not tell you
you could not escape your curse? Have you escaped it? And you think
you can escape it now." She laughed suddenly, a hideous laugh which
set Joan shuddering. "The love you have found must prove itself. You
say it is the love that will save you. I tell you it is not. Nothi