"But think, Vincent: my poor grandfather has done no harm, and he will perish in that horrible place, though innocent. And the Senor Sampayo, as I have proof, bought the poignard himself from my grandfather. Why, then, should you say he stole it?" indignantly.
"It is not I who accused him; my duty here is to guard the prisoners— not to try them."
"Vincent," Miriam continued, in a low, pleading voice, "you are poor; your little children are pining for want of fresh, pure air. I am rich, and can give you enough money to live in comfort away from this close den. Release my friends, and the power of saving your children shall be yours. Look!" drawing one of the wondering girls to her side, "see how pale and thin she is! Can you refuse my offer when the lives of those you love depend upon it?"
Vincent felt the truth of her words, and knew the only things he cherished on earth, those innocent children, were slowly fading and pining away for want of fresh air.
The man raised his head, and glanced earnestly at the moved expressive face, then in a low, hoarse voice he muttered:
"Be it so. I will help the prisoners to escape. I cannot see my little ones dying before my eyes, when an opportunity is given me to save them."
"Then to-morrow at sunset you will bring them to the Golden Lion, I will be there, ready with the money."
"I will not fail, senora. May Heaven forgive me if I am doing wrong!"
After a few instructions, the happy girl went swiftly away, but ere she had moved far, she returned, and paused before Vincent.
"I forgot to ask you about that poor man, Jarima," she said, gravely.