“Good heaven!” said Juan, “is it possible Antonio
could commit this dastardly crime? Alas,
Magdalena, I have done you a grievous wrong, and
I beseech you, pardon me.—This thing was not
only wicked, but marvellous. The paper is stained
with blood—The saints acquit me of his death, for
it was I who shed it! I am glad he died penitent—
What brought him to this justice? I held my
dagger to his throat, yet he cried, with a devilish
malice and courage, `Strike, for—' But I will not
repeat his sinful and exulting falsehoods.—Alas,
that his blood should be upon my soul! the blood
of his father's son!”

Magdalena surveyed the self-accusing looks of
the prisoner, with much emotion; and twice or
thrice she opened her lips, to give him comfort, or
to continue her dark and singular story, and yet
failed, as many times, to speak. At last, she clasped
her hands upon her bosom, as if, by an effort of
physical strength, to give support and resolution to

[figure description] Page 226.[end figure description]

her heart, and said, with low and interrupted accents,

“Lament no more for a sin thou hast not committed.
Thou wert deceived—Hilario died not by
thy hands.”

“Hah!” exclaimed Juan, “dost thou tell me the
truth? Is Hilario yet living? God be thanked!
God be thanked! for I am not a murderer!”

He fell upon his knees, and looking up to heaven
with joy, beheld not the grief and trepidation with
which his companion surveyed his raptures.

“I told thee, not that he lived, but that thou didst
not slay him,” said the nun, with an effort.—“Had
my father come to my side, and looked upon this
paper, after hearing the story of Hilario's baseness,
what think you he should have done?”

“Killed him, I must allow,” said Juan, rising to
his feet; “for even his deep penitence could
scarcely be permitted to stand as the sole penalty
of such an offence.—Alas, Magdalena, my mind is
beset with sore misgivings. How was that paper
obtained? How did Hilario die? Thou growest
pale! Heaven shield me! didst thou, didst thou—?”

He paused with terror. The maiden replied
instantly, and almost with firmness:

“Hear the truth, even to the last syllable; for
even thy good opinion I will not purchase by subterfuge.
To Villafana,—a wretch, whose manifold
villanies thou couldst not dream, (for know, that,
being a sailor in the ship that bore the unlucky
sisters, he devised and accomplished its destruction,
that he might impiously obtain the holy vessels of
silver and gold—Ay, it was Villafana, and not the
tempest, that drove us upon the rocks of Alonso—)
to Villafana, from whom I learned, the cause of the
duel and of thy flight, I committed the charge of
obtaining this recantation.—Was this wrong?”
she exclaimed, giving way to affright, for Juan's
looks of horror could not be mistaken: “they were

[figure description] Page 227.[end figure description]

two fiends together,—the villain struck the villain,—
the—”

“Murderess! murderess!” cried Juan aloud, recoiling
from her.

A ghastly smile passed over her countenance,
and it grew into a faint laugh, which, to Juan's
mistaken eye, (for he thought it the merriment of
satisfaction or indifference,) seemed unnatural and
dreadful, while she replied, her voice hysterically
belying her feelings, as much as did her countenance,

“Thou dost not think I employed him to do murder?
I appeal to heaven, I did not dream he would
do aught but compel the recantation from the
wounded man.—What! bid him kill one so defenceless!
Had he been strong and well armed,
then perhaps, indeed,—then perhaps, I might have
thought it. I sought but for the paper; the rest
was the deed of Villafana.”

“Oh heaven! oh holy heaven!” cried Juan;
“speak not another word: rather let me die than
hear more. Away! avaunt! thou art not a woman,
but a fiend! and all is now as it was, and
worse.--What, blood-stained! blood-stained!”—

Magdalena strode towards him, striving to speak,
but could only utter the words, `Injustice! injustice!
' mingled with the charge, `Leave Mexico,'
that still made a part of her perturbed thoughts.
Had not Juan been entirely overwhelmed by his
horror, he must have observed, that her mind was,
at this moment, convulsed beyond the degree of
any former agitation; that she was, in fact, in a
condition both alarming and pitiable. Her countenance
was most deathlike, her accents wholly unnatural,
and there was something of delirium or
idiotcy in the manner with which, while still muttering
the broken reproof, `Injustice,' and the charge,
`Leave Mexico,' she, all the while, extended the

[figure description] Page 228.[end figure description]

blood-stained paper, as if entreating him again to
receive and peruse it.

As it was, he gave utterance to his horror in
the words,—

“Miserable woman! the denial forced from the
lips of the murdered man, is of a piece with the
spirit that compelled it—False, false, all!”

At these words, the paper dropped from her
hands, another vacant smile distorted her visage,
and she turned to depart; but before she had taken
two steps, she tottered, and fell to the floor, with a
dreadful scream, that instantly brought the guards
into the prison.

The absorbind nature of their conversation had,
for the last two or three moments, rendered both
incapable of observing that some scene of altercation
had suddenly arisen at the dungeon door.
High voices might be heard, as of one alternately
entreating and demanding admittance, which was
gruffly denied by others. The shriek of Magdalena,
ringing in their ears like a cry of death, brought
the contention to an end; and all rushing in together,
they beheld Juan endeavouring to raise the
figure of his unhappy and lifeless guest from the
floor.

“Dios mio! y peccavi! I will kill him where he
stands,” exclaimed one, rushing forward.

“Not so fast, señor Camarga,” cried the hunchback,
who was at the head of all, snatching the
weapon from the hands of this individual, who
seemed peculiarly to thirst for the blood of the
young islander. “Here's work for the bastinado!
Where's Villafana, ye treacherous dogs, that let
women into the prison? He shall pay for it.—
Harkee, señor Camarga; if you have any interest
in this fair lady, you may help bear her to the palace.
Poor fool! these women love as arquebuses
shoot: if you make them any obstruction, they

[figure description] Page 229.[end figure description]

burst in your hands--and this is truer still of a
musket, if you thrust it into the earth. In mine
own opinion, the young hound has scorned her.”

While Najara gave vent to these growling observations,
Magdalena was carried out of the prison.
The hunchback had reached the door, before Juan,
in the confusion of the moment, thought of calling
him back to impart to him the secret of the treachery.
But Najara replied only with a malediction,
and departed with the lantern; so that Juan was
again left to night and solitude.

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