u say?" asked Don John very anxiously. "What did you tell
them all? That you had been here?"

"Yes--more than that, much more. It was not true, but I hoped they would
believe it I said--" the colour filled her face and she caught her
breath. "Oh, how can I tell you? Can you not guess what I said?"

"That we were married already, secretly?" he asked. "You might have said
that."

"No. Not that--no one would have believed me. I told them," she paused
and gathered her strength, and then the words came quickly, ashamed of
being heard--"I told them that I knew my father had no share in the
crime, because I had been here long to-night, in this room, and even
when you were killed, and that I was here because I had given you all,
my life, my soul, my honour, everything."

"Great God!" exclaimed Don John starting. "And you did that to save your
father?"

She had covered her face with her hands for a moment. Then suddenly she
rose and turned away from him, and paced the floor.

"Yes. I did that. What was there for me to do? It was better that I
should be ruined and end in a convent than that my father should die on
the scaffold. What would have become of Inez?"

"What would have become of you?" Don John's eyes followed her in loving
wonder.

"It would not have mattered. But I had thrown away my name for nothing.
They believed me, I think, but the King, to spare himself, was
determined that my father should die. We met as he was led away to
prison. Then I went to the King himself--and when I came away I had my
father's release in my hand. Oh, I wish I had that to do again! I wish
you had been there, for you would have been proud of me, then. I told
him he had killed you, I heard him confess it, I threatened to tell the
court, the world, all Spain, if he would not set my father free. But the
other--can you forgive me, dear?"

She stood before him now, and the colour was fainter in her cheeks, for
she trusted him with all her heart, and she put out her hands.

"Forgive you? What? For doing the bravest thing a woman ever did?"

"I thought you would know it in heaven and understand," she said. "It is
better that you know it on earth--but it was hard to tell."

He held her hands together and pressed them to his lips. He had no words
to tell her what he thought. Again and again he silently kissed the firm
white fingers folded in his own.

"It was magnificent," he said at last. "But it will be hard to undo,
very hard."