oper figure of a man; but starvation and ill usage have worn
him to a shadow!"

Aye, but a shadow with a gnawing sorrow at its heart.

"You may taunt me, Senor de Melinza," whispered the broken voice, "you
may taunt me with my helplessness. I may not break these bonds, it is
true; but neither can you sever those that bind to me the love of a
true-hearted English maid.... That is a foul lie, Don Pedro, and I cast
it back into your teeth!... Strike a helpless prisoner? Do so, and you
add but another black deed to the long score that stands against the
name of Spaniard. Some day the reckoning will come, senor--I dare stake
my soul on that!... I'll not believe it; no! not upon your oath, Don
Pedro!... Margaret, Margaret! Tell him he lies, dear lady!... In God's
name, speak, sweetheart!" And though I knelt beside him, and called his
name again and again, he was deaf to my voice and put me by with feeble
hands, crying ever: "Margaret! Margaret!" till I thought my heart would
break.

Oh! the terror of this new jailer--dread Disease--that held him in its
grip while Death lurked grimly in the background! For no wiles or
blandishments of mine could move them or loose their hold upon the life
most dear to me. When there was but man to deal with, my faith failed me
and I ceased praying; now it was my punishment that only God's mercy
could set my dear love free,--and it might be his pleasure to loose him
in another world and leave me still on earth to mourn his loss.

As, hour after hour, I listened to his ravings, a deeper understanding
of the horrors of his long captivity began to grow upon me. I could
scarce forbear crying out when I thought how I had touched the hand of
that vile Spaniard, and listened, smiling, when he spoke of love to me.

How terrible a thing is hatred! Heaven pardon me, but I think there is
somewhat of it in my heart. Yet, now that the fever is abating, and my
beloved is coming back to me from the very brink of the grave, I do pray
that I may forgive mine enemy, even as God in His clemency has pardoned
me!

* * * * *

He knows me at last. It was some hours ago. I was bending over him, and
a light of recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Margaret! _Margaret!_ is it _you_? I dreamed just now----that----that
you were untrue to me!"

"Did you so, dear love?" I answered. "Forget it then, and rest; for now
the fever and the dreams are past."

He smiled at me and fell asleep l