"Such pity have we," replied Alan Rookwood, "as you showed my daughter. She was as innocent as Eleanor Mowbray, and yet you did not pity _her_." "Heaven is my witness," exclaimed the priest, "that I never injured her." "Take not Heaven's name in vain," cried Alan. "Who stood by while it was doing? Whose firmer hand lent aid to the murderer's trembling efforts? Whose pressure stifled her thrilling screams, and choked her cries for mercy? Yours--yours; and now you prate to me of pity--you, the slayer of the sleeping and the innocent!" "'Tis false!" exclaimed the priest, in extremity of terror. "False!" echoed Alan. "I had Sir Piers's own confession. He told me all. You had designs upon Sir Piers, which his wife opposed; you hated her; you were in the confidence of both--how did you keep that confidence? He told me _how_, by awakening a spirit of jealousy and pride, that o'ermastered all his better feelings. False! He told me of your hellish machinations; your Jesuitical plots; your schemes. He was too weak, too feeble an instrument to serve you. You left him, but not before _she_ had left him. False! ha, I have that shall instantly convict you. The corpse is here, within this cell. Who brought it hither?" The priest was silent: he seemed confounded by Alan's violence. "I will answer that question," said Barbara. "It was brought hither by that false priest. His agent, Balthazar, has betrayed him. It was brought hither to prevent the discovery of Sir Luke Rookwood's legitimacy. He meant to make his own terms about it. It has come hither to proclaim his guilt--to be a fearful witness against him." Then, turning to Checkley, she added, "You have called Heaven to witness your innocence: you shall attest it by oath upon that body; and should aught indicate your guilt, I will hang you as I would a dog, and clear off one long score with justice. Do you shrink from this?" "No," replied the priest, in a voice hollow and broken. "Bring me to the body." "Seize each an arm," said Barbara, addressing Zoroaster and the knight of Malta, "and lead him to the corse." "I will administer the oath," said Alan Rookwood, sternly. "No, not you," stammered the priest. "And wherefore not?" asked Alan. "If you are innocent, you need fear nothing from her." "I fear nothing from the _dead_," replied Checkley; "lead on."