"Then hear the truth, Bruno de Malpas; and if it well-nigh break an old
man's heart to tell it, it is better that I should suffer and die for
God's sake than that I should live for mine. On one point, Licorice
deceived thee to the last. And until now, I, even I, have aided her in
duping thee. Yet it is written, `He that confesseth and forsaketh his
sin shall find mercy.' May it not be too late for me!"

"Assuredly not, my father. But what canst thou mean?"

"Bruno, thy child did not die the day after she came hither."

"Father! Thou art not going to tell me--"

Bruno's voice had in it a strange mixture of agony and hope.

"Son, thy Beatrice lives."

Before either could speak further, Belasez had thrown herself on her
knees, and flung her arms around Abraham.

"O Father, if it be so, speak quickly, and end his agony! For the sake
of the righteous Lord, that loveth righteousness, do, do give Father
Bruno back his child!"

Abraham disengaged himself from Belasez's clinging arms with what seemed
almost a shudder. He took up his long robe, and tore it from the skirt
to the neck. Then, with a voice almost choked with emotion, he laid
both hands, as if in blessing, on the head of the kneeling Belasez.

"Beatrice de Malpas," he said, "Thou art that child."

A low cry from Bruno, a more passionate exclamation from Belasez, and
the father and daughter were clasped heart to heart.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

WHAT CAME OF IT.

"Content to fill Religion's vacant place
With hollow form, and gesture, and grimace."

_Cowper_.

"Nay, my son, it is of no use. I shall never forsake the faith of my
fathers. For this child, if she can believe it,--well: she is more
thine than mine,--_ay Dios_! And perhaps there is this much change in
me, that I have come to think it just possible that it may not be
idolatry to fancy the Nazarene was the Messiah. How can I tell? We
know so little, and Adonai knows so much! But the cowslip is easily
transplanted: the old oak will take no new rooting. Let the old oak
alone. And there are other things in thy faith, my son,--a maiden whom
I should deem it sin to worship, images of stone before which no Jew may
bow down, a thing you call the Church, which we cannot understand, but
which seems to bind you all, hand and foot, soul and body, as a slave is
bound by his master. I cannot take up with those."

"Nor I," said Belasez in a low voice.

"Then do not," was the quiet a