portions of the little
town, he soon paused before his own gate and swung it open. The wild
thought now entered my brain that perhaps he had planned some terrible
revenge upon his wife, and desired to torture me by forcing me to
witness it. I hung back at the gate. My own good sword re-assured me,
and he mounted the step to throw open the door.

"Come in, Captain. I regret that I can not give you a more sincere
welcome."

Truly, there was nothing in the aspect of the room to cause alarm. Two
ladies were inside, one at either end of a simple working table--Agnes
and another lady, about her own figure, whom I did not know. The elder
woman looked straight in my face with an anxious air.

The Chevalier did not formally present me. Agnes drooped her head
somewhat, and never raised her eyes at my entrance. It was a most
awkward situation. As to what de la Mora contemplated I could not
venture the wildest guess; certainly no violence in the presence of
this other lady who looked so cool while yet so pale.

"Captain de Mouret, as you hope for your soul's salvation, I conjure
you to tell me the whole truth. I do solemnly promise you, upon a
soldier's honor, at the very worst which may come, I will only leave
this colony, and will not injure any one."

I had seen de la Mora on many a field, but never did he look stronger
or nobler than on that night. His voice sounded full and clear despite
the intensity of his suffering.

"Captain de Mouret, you are a soldier, a brave one, as my own eyes have
witnessed, reputed a man of untarnished honor. Will you truly answer
me one question upon the sacred Blood of Christ?"

His earnestness appealed to every better instinct of my nature, so I
replied to him:

"I will."

"Have I your oath?"

"You have."

"Then, sir, to which of these ladies, if either, did you intend this
note should be delivered; and which, if either, did you meet at the
ruined chapel at Sceaux? Speak, in God's name, and do not spare me!
Suspicion is more terrible than truth."

The very worst had come, and I felt my resolution waver. I knew not
what story Agnes had told her husband, nor did I know who that other
lady was. She looked enough like Agnes to have afforded shallow
pretext for an evasion. Verily here was a strong temptation for a lie,
and I was almost minded to tell it and relieve Agnes. Agnes, though,
would give me no cue; never once did she lift her eyes to mine. I
might even then