urther torture thyself, and Stanley lives. Refuse, and the
English minion dies; and when thou and I next meet, it will be where
torture and executioners wait but my nod to inflict such suffering
that thou wilt die a thousand deaths in every pang. And,
Jewess--unbeliever as thou art--who will dare believe it more than
public justice, or accuse me of other than the zeal, which the service
of Christ demands? Choose, and quickly--wilt thou accept my proffers,
and be mine? Thou must, at last. What avails this idle folly of
tempting torture first?"

"Thou mayest kill my body, but thou canst not pollute my soul," was
the instant reply, and its tones were unchanged. "And as for Stanley,
his life or death is not in thine hands; but if it were, I could
not--nay, thus I _would_ not--save him. I reject thy proffers, as I
scorn thyself. Now leave me--I have chosen!"

Don Luis did not reply, but Marie beheld his cheek grow livid, and the
foam actually gather on his lip; but the calm and holy gaze she had
fixed upon him, as he spoke, quailed not, nor changed. The invisible
door of her cell closed with a deep, sullen sound, as if her tormentor
had thus, in some measure, given vent to the unutterable fury shaking
his soul to its centre; and Marie was alone. She stood for many, many
minutes, in the fearful dread of his return; and then she raised her
hand to her brow, and her lip blanched and quivered, and, with a long,
gasping breath, she sunk down upon the cold floor--all the heroine
lost in an agonized burst of tears.

CHAPTER XXV.

"Hovers the steel above his head,
Suspended by a spider thread:
On, on! a life hangs on thy speed;
With lightning wing the gallant steed!
Buoy the full heart up! It will sink
If it but pause to feel and think.
There is no time to dread his fate:
No thought but one--too late, too late!"

MS.

Too soon did Marie realize the power of Don Luis to exercise his
threatened vengeance! Two days after that terrible interview, she
was again dragged to the hall of judgment: the same questions were
proposed as before, whether or not she would denounce the secret
followers of her own creed, and confess her late husband's real
belief; and the same firm answers given. We shrink in loathing from
the delineation of horrible tortures applied to that frail and gentle
being--shrink, for we know that such things actually have been; and
women--young, lovely, inoffensive as Marie Morales--have