, "when I stood by Don Manuel's death-bed and discovered your
guilty love for Inez, while your wife stood in your way, everything
became clear to me."

"You knew, Brother Jonathan, that I was bearing all the tortures of
remorse, and yet gave me no word of explanation?" whispered the unhappy
victim.

"That is not surprising. Do you know what hate is? You knew that I
loved Inez. Can you imagine how I must have hated you who robbed me of
her?" continued Jonathan, pitilessly.

"Yes, I knew you looked on yourself as a murderer! It answered my
purpose not to have you think otherwise. It was sweet to me to see how
this thought tortured you; it was a great satisfaction to know I held
you in my power, like a butterfly on a needle, which it cannot get away
from, and yet which remains quiescent and kills it painfully and
slowly. Do you think I would not have brought you to justice if it had
been true? Surely I would not have failed to do it; but Thomas, who
knew all the circumstances and was with me in the mission, is here; he
would have witnessed against me, had I accused you before the public.
But I knew how to revenge myself on you for having stolen Inez from me,
and for refusing me Carmen's hand. Your life must pay for Inez; your
death will rob Carmen, as you have willed away your fortune from her
for your supposed crime and left it to our community. Thus you will
die at last, filled with regret at having wasted a life in unnecessary
penance, and your silent lips will now take the old, dark story into
the grave. I, however, will always feel an inward sense of triumph and
delight that it was my foot which crushed you!"

He was silent, and stood with folded arms, looking down gloatingly on
Mauer. He did not observe that in the shadow between the wall and the
bed a head was raised. Suddenly a dark form rose, shadowy and
indistinct. Jonathan grew pale. "Inez!" he gasped, and shrank back.

"No. Carmen; who has heard your cruel words, so that the silent lips
shall not take the dark story of your wickedness to the grave. Wretch!
devil incarnate! Can the earth hold such infamous scum? and has Heaven
no lightning with which to strike you dead? Oh, father, my poor,
persecuted father! There are no words to tell what you have suffered
through this man!" And she threw herself again by the bed, and cast
her arms about her dying parent.

But a glorious light of heavenly peace had settled on those pale
features. W