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 like a little child.