The speaker paused, as if to collect courage.
'He spoke ill of me?' asked Basil.
'He spoke much ill. He accused you of disloyalty in friendship, saying that he had but newly learnt how you had deceived him. More than this he had not time to tell.'
Basil looked into the old man's rheumy eyes.
'You do well to utter this, good father. Tell me one thing more. Yonder maiden, does she breathe the same charge against me?'
'Not so,' replied Gaudiosus. 'Of you she said no evil.'
'Yet I scarce think'—he smiled coldly—'that she made profession of love for me?'
'My son, her speech was maidenly. She spoke of herself as erstwhile your betrothed; no more than that.'
As he uttered these words, the priest rose. He had an uneasy look, as if he feared that infirmity of will and fondness for gossip had betrayed him into some neglect of spiritual obligation.
'It is better,' he said, 'that we should converse no more. I know not what your purposes may be, nor do they concern me I remain here to pray by the dead, and I shall despatch a messenger to my brother presbyter, that we may prepare for the burial. Remember,' he raised his head, and his voice struck a deeper note, 'that the guilt of blood is upon you, and that no plea of earthly passion will avail before the Almighty Judge. Behold your hand—even so, but far more deeply have you stained your soul.'