There was a short silence, and before Father Adrian spoke again the low-lying clouds were swept over their heads by a gale from seaward, and the wind commenced to whistle and shriek in the pine wood, and roar amongst the crumbling ruins, which scarcely afforded them protection from the blinding rain. Any further conversation was impossible. Paul lifted up his voice, and shouted in his companion's ear—
"These walls are not safe! We must go into the house. Will you come?"
Father Adrian hesitated, and then assented, wrapping his cloak around him. In a few moments they were inside the library, having entered through a private door and met no one. Breathless, Paul threw off his cloak, which was dripping with rain, and turned round almost fiercely upon his companion.
"Now speak!" he said. "I am ready to hear all."
The priest looked at him steadily for a moment, and then, with his pale face turned towards the fire, he commenced to speak.
"Sin is everlasting!" he said slowly. "Your father's sin lives, and on you the burden must fall! If you had kept the covenant which I placed before you, I might have spared you. You yourself have chosen. You must hear all! Listen!
"It was by chance that I was spending two months in charge of the monastery of St. Jerome, at Cruta, when your father arrived," he continued, without any pause. "He sought our hospitality and he at once obtained it. For two days he dwelt with us, spending his time for the most part in idle fashion, wandering about along the seashore or on the cliffs, but always with the look on his face of a man who does but dally with some fixed purpose. His doings were nothing to me, but by chance, from one of the brethren, I learnt that he was no stranger to the island—that once, many years ago, he had been the guest of the lord who ruled the little territory, and whose castle overshadows the monastery.
"On the third day of his stay, he remained within his guest-chamber until sundown, writing. As the vesper-bell rang I met him in the corridor, dressed for walking, and from his countenance I judged that whatever his mission to the island might be, he was about to bring it to an end. He passed me without speech, almost as though he had not seen me, and left the monastery. A few minutes afterwards, looking down from the windows to watch the brethren come in from their field tasks, I saw him take the road up to the castle.
"It was in the middle of the night when he returned. Midnight had come and gone, and every one in the monastery was asleep, when the hoarse, clanging bell down in the yard rang slightly, as though pulled by feeble fingers. I threw my cloak over my shoulders, and descended to admit him. When the last of the huge bolts had been withdrawn, and I threw the door open, I found him leaning against the wall, with his fingers clutched together in agony, and his bloodless features convulsed with pain. The moonlight was falling right across his face, pale and ghastly with pain, and by its light I seemed to see something dark dropping from him on the white flags. I leaned forward, horror-stricken, and I saw that it was blood."
"My God!"