Keith turned on the speaker with flaming eyes.
"She kneels there to pray—she? What mad fanaticism is that? Good God, man! she is the soul of innocence!"
"What she knows of her own heart, she knows, my friend. This is not the thing to tell a man who is to her what you are; but there is—there may be some day, a thing that will leave her free; and if it come—"
Keith had covered his face with his hands. The weakness of the illness was still on him; he durst not leave his eyes unguarded. But after a little he looked up.
"You know something more?" he said.
"I know there is another woman who has Rafael tied hand and foot; I know she will take him away; the only thing I do not know is how long it will last. The bishop himself would help such a separation."
"God himself could not," said Keith, "unless he kill Rafael Arteaga. When I heard what he said of her outside the window, I was tempted to kill him with my own hand. Nothing else would free her; I heard the oath she took!"
"To send to eternity the soul she is vowed to guard would not free her from the idea. If he should die suddenly, unshriven, it is a lost soul, just the same."
"It is the maddest fanaticism to bind a child like that to such a hell; and she accepts it, as—as her people in the past accepted the order for sacrifices."
"What do you know of her people?"