The girl's passion had risen with every sentence he spoke, but his utterance was rapid, and she could not speak; her bosom was heaving with scornful emotion, and her bright eyes flashed with angry fire. She was more beautiful in her wrath than in her submission and petition.
"Traitor!" she cried, as he ceased to speak; "perjured priest and liar. Thou hast insulted the Holy Mother; thou hast proposed infamy to her votary; thou hast denied thy Christian faith. I defy thee! I, a poor, helpless widow, defy thee in her name, and spurn thee. Let me pass, Dom Diego. If I walk barefoot to Goa, those whom thou boastest of shall know this. Yea, if they send me to the stake, I will testify against thee till I die."
"Thy beauteous limbs would fare ill on the wheel," he said, with mock piety. "Thy charms should be seen by another than thy executioner, lady. Dost thou wish thy brother's safety? Do as thou hast spoken, and he dies; listen to me, and he lives. Speak! the last chance resteth with thee." And he drew up his tall figure, and folded his arms on his chest. "Not now," he added hurriedly; "not till he is gone, then thou wilt be alone and I with thee."
Maria could make no reply, her speech seemed paralysed with terror. She essayed to escape, but he stretched out his arms and prevented her, caught her in his own, and strained her to his heart. "Maria!" he said; "Maria!" But with a piercing shriek, which resounded through the church and through the grove, she sank down insensible. "Fool!" cried the priest, "I have betrayed myself, and they or I must die." And he fled out of the building.
Francis d'Almeida had sat musing over the events of the day, and wondering why his sister stayed so long, as the music had ceased. "She may have gone to see Catarina, who is very sick; or—or—but it is late, too late." And as he was thus thinking, the shriek reached him. "'Tis Maria's voice!" he cried, snatching down his sword from the wall. "What can have happened?" And he ran out.
In the church the altar was still ablaze with light, but no one answered his anxious call. "Maria! Maria! Where art thou?" He dashed towards the altar, where, partly on the steps and partly on the floor, he saw his sister lying insensible. Though at the first sight of her body he had thought her dead, as he gently raised her he felt a strong shudder pass through her, and a plaintive cry escaped her, in which he could only catch Dom Diego's name; and had he appeared he might not have escaped.
"This, then, was that fiend's object," he muttered to himself, as he raised his sister's form and bore it out of the church. "Before God, and before men, I swear he shall answer for this outrage. Courage, Maria! be brave, and have no fear, the miscreant has fled, but he may be found. Come, if thou canst walk; if not, I will carry thee; when thou art in the house thou canst tell me all."
The air had revived her, and the strong arm of her brother was around her; and, though still dizzy, she went on, her brother supporting her till they reached her chamber, where she fell prostrate upon her little bed. For some minutes she could not speak, but as she drank some of the water offered to her, she rose up, and seeing her brother's naked sword in his hand, cast her arms around his neck.
"Not by that, Francis," she murmured, "should he meet thy punishment. He hath insulted God and the Holy Mother, leave him to them, leave them to chasten his cowardly insult to me; but, oh, brother, we cannot remain here now; let us fly while we have time, and escape from his infamous purposes."
But Francis d'Almeida was not to be restrained; there had been an insult done to his sister, and his gentle nature was inflamed to desperation. Without answering her, he tore himself from her arms and rushed out of the house. He searched every part of the church and the enclosure; he rushed impetuously into Dom Diego's dwelling, but he could not find him, and his servant told him that his master had dressed and gone out some time ago; where, he knew not. Again Francis searched the grove and the adjacent bushes, but there was no one. It was no use searching farther, for Maria might need his aid, and he turned towards his house. As he approached it he saw a number of figures standing near the gate, and for an instant his thought was that there might be danger; but he was relieved by the hearty voice of the old deacon, who cried—