en so exact that Rosco had never
doubted his return home and recovery of reason.

Whatever he thought or felt, however, the pirate's whole being was soon
absorbed in the madman's prayer. It was simple, like himself. He asked
for permission to return home, and made a humble confession of sin.
From the tenor of it, there could be no doubt that poor Zeppa had come
to regard his exile as a direct punishment from God. Then the prayer
changed to a petition for blessings on his wife and son and the deep
voice became deeper and full of tenderness.

The pirate experienced a shock of surprise--was the son, then, still
alive? And, if so, how came Zeppa to know? He could not know it! The
man before him must either be the creature of his own disordered fancy,
or a real visitant from the world of spirits!

As these thoughts coursed like lightning through the pirate's brain, he
was suddenly startled by the sound of his own name.

"And Rosco," said the madman, still looking steadily up into the sky,
while a dark frown slowly gathered on his brow--"Oh! God, curse--no--
no, no. Forgive me, Lord, and forgive _him_, and save him from his
sins." He stopped abruptly here, and looked confused.

The mention of the pirate and his sins seemed to remind the poor father
that his son had been murdered, and yet, somehow, he had fancied him
alive, and had been praying for him! He could not understand it at all.
The old look of mingled perplexity and patient submission was beginning
again to steal over his face, and his hand was in the familiar act of
passing over the troubled brow, when Zeppa's eyes alighted on Rosco's
countenance.

It would be difficult to say which, at that moment, most resembled a
maniac. The sight of his enemy did more, perhaps, to restore Zeppa to a
spurious kind of sanity than anything that had occurred since the fatal
day of his bereavement, and called up an expression of fierce
indignation to his countenance. All memory of his previous prayer
vanished, and he glared for a moment at the pirate with intense fury.

At the same time Rosco stood with blanched cheeks, intense horror in his
eyes, his lower jaw dropped, and his whole frame, as it were,
transfixed.

The inaction of both was, however, but momentary. The madman sprang up,
clutched the heavy staff he was wont to use in climbing the hills, and
rushed impetuously but without word or cry at his foe. The pirate,
brave though he undoubtedly was, lost al