these things shall go to a young girl. That old man is very old, is a
little foolish with age; that young girl knows very little of the world,
and is very passionate, very proud, very helpless.

"Add, now, to that a great menace--a very dangerous, crafty, subtle
personage, who has the ear of that old man; whose aim it is to become
the possessor of that young girl and of that vast wealth. The old man
is much subject to the other. Old men are like that, especially the very
great. They have many things to think of; it is necessary that they
rely on somebody. I am, in fact, speaking of my uncle and the man called
O'Brien. You have seen him." Carlos spoke in a voice hardly above a
whisper, but he stuck to his task with indomitable courage. "If I die
and leave him here, he will have my uncle to himself. He is a terrible
man. Where would all that great fortune go? For the re-establishing of
the true faith in Ireland? _Quien sabe?_ Into the hands of O'Brien, at
any rate. And the daughter, too--a young girl--she would be in the hands
of O'Brien, too. If I could expect to live, it might be different. That
is the greatest distress of all." He swallowed painfully, and put his
frail hand on to the white ruffle at his neck. "I was in great trouble
to find how to thwart this O'Brien. My uncle went to Kingston because
he was persuaded it was his place to see that the execution of those
unhappy men was conducted with due humanity. O'Brien came with us as his
secretary. I was in the greatest horror of mind. I prayed for guidance.
Then my eyes fell upon you, who were pressed against our very carriage
wheels. It was like an answer to my prayers." Carlos suddenly reached
out and caught my hand.

I thought he was wandering, and I was immensely sorry for him. He looked
at me so wistfully with his immense eyes. He continued to press my hand.

"But when I saw you," he went on, after a time, "it had come into my
head, 'That is the man who is sent in answer to my prayers.' I knew it,
I say. If you could have my cousin and my lands, I thought, it would be
like my having your sister--not quite, but good enough for a man who is
to die in a short while, and leave no trace but a marble tomb. Ah, one
desires very much to leave a mark under God's blessed sun, and to
be able to know a little how things will go after one is dead.... I
arranged the matter very quickly in my mind. There was the difficulty of
O'Brien. If I had said, 'Here is the man who i