"I care not for thy proposition!" I answered. "Let me die in peace! I would not turn my finger for life or death--go!" "Remember the lad then," he replied. "If thou dost care not for thyself, remember him. He has a life that even I, besotted as thou dost think me, would grieve to see lost. Would thou cast it from thee, when by one word thou couldst save him? One good deed thou wilt not regret." "Help me to a chair then," I replied, "and I will hear what thou hast to say." Bending over me he put his fat arms around my body, and lifting me as though I had been a child, he bore me to a chair. I felt as some careworn man, bending beneath his years, and tottering with feebleness and age; all my strength and energy had left me. Even the fat priest, hardened and bloodstained as he was, seemed to feel some sparks of pity as he looked down upon me. "Had I known that the paper would affect thee thus, I would not have shown it to thee," he muttered. "It matters little," I replied lifelessly. "What is thy offer?" He hesitated--then spoke: "Several days ago the Count showed thee a paper in which thou didst purport to formally renounce all claims that thou mightest have to the hand of the Lady Margaret Carroll. Not that thou hast any interest after that paper," he chuckled, "but this matters not for the present. He told thee if thou wouldst but sign that document, thou shouldst be free, with a purse of gold. I offer thee this additional proposition besides what has already been offered--that is thy life, and the boy's (which are as good as gone) to deal with as thou choosest. Not only this, but I will increase the five hundred pounds to one thousand pounds. It is a noble offer. What sayest thou?" and he tapped the floor nervously with his foot. "My reply now is as it was then. Not though thou offerest me the wealth of the Incas, the lives of a thousand men, though I suffered a dozen deaths by all the tortures that human ingenuity could devise, and my body rotted in the ground, would I sign the paper. Thy master has the lady. What more can he wish? Go back, and tell him once for all what I have said--begone!" An ugly light had come into the priest's eye as he had listened to me; his bloated face was purple with baffled rage. With a snarl he sprang towards me, drawing his hand from behind his back, and I saw a dagger flash in the light. "Then die!" he shrieked, and he raised the gleaming weapon above his head and brought it down. At that moment there was a rush, and a blade flashed under the descending dagger and caught it--'twas Oliver's. Father Francis with a yell dropped the dagger, and rushing to the open window, sprang out of it. The lad, who was close behind him, lunged at him even as he went through--with an exclamation he held up his sword, it was streaming with blood.