‘Do you think I lie?’ cried Bradley sternly. ‘Do you think I lie, like those of your church, whose trade it is to do so? I tell you I have come here to claim her who is my wife, by the laws of man and God!’
Again the Abbé repeated his pantomime expressive of pitiful incredulity.
‘Surely you deceive yourself,’ he said. ‘Miss Craik was never married. She lived unmated, and in blessed virginity was baptised into our church.’
‘Where is she? Let me speak to her!’ cried Bradley, with a sudden access of his old passion.
The Abbé pointed upward.
‘She is with the saints of heaven!’ he said, and crossed himself.
Again the unfortunate clergyman’s head went round, and again he seemed about to fall; but recovering himself with a shuddering effort, he clutched the priest by the arm, exclaiming—
‘Torture me no more! You are juggling with my life, as you have done with hers. But tell me it is all false, and I will forgive you. Though you are a priest, you have at least the heart of a man. Have pity! If what you have said is true, I am destroyed body and soul—yes, body and soul! Have mercy upon me! Tell me my darling is not dead!’
The Abbe’s face went white as death, and at the same moment his lustrous eyes seemed to fill with tears. Trembling violently, he took Bradley’s hand, and pressed it tenderly. Then releasing him, he glanced upward and turned towards the door of the chamber.
‘Stay here till I return,’ he said in a low voice, and disappeared.