"But you knew it. You could read it in my eyes, in my acts, in how I served you, in my work for the Carlists, in everything," he answered, vehemently. "You are more to me than life—you know that. Life, do I say"—and he laughed—"Why, I have wrecked my very soul for your love, Sarita; and have within the last few hours done murder that you might be free to be mine." "What do you mean?" she asked, in the same clear, cool, even voice. She was leading him to talk in order to gain time to think and plan. "What should I mean but that I have killed the only man who stood between us. No, not your Englishman," he cried bitterly, in answer to her changing look. "He never stood between us. A far stronger than he—Quesada. You told me of his treachery. He gave you to me, and all the time was scheming and lying that he might cheat me of you and have you for himself. But he will lie and cheat no more;" and he laughed again, wildly and recklessly. "Unless he does it in hell. He is dead, do you understand, dead, shot through the brain at the very moment when he was setting another cursed trap for me." I saw Sarita start in fear, then instantly recover herself. "You did wrong to kill him," she said, quietly. "Wrong? Is revenge wrong? Is justice wrong? Has he killed no one? Did he not plan my murder? Wouldn’t he have ruined you? Were you safe in his greedy clutch? Why chatter of wrong? It was right; a sound, good, true, just act, and had he a hundred lives I would take them all, the hundredth more cheerfully than the first—for your sake, Sarita. God, how I love you!" he cried with mad ecstasy. "When you told me that night at Calvarro’s farm how he had cheated me, you signed his death warrant, Sarita. I went away meaning to kill him and then myself, but I saw how to do better. When I taxed him with his treachery he denied everything, and made me more smooth promises. He was afraid to die and told me where you were, that I could go to you and rescue you, and have you for my own, all my own, Sarita. And then I saw what I could do. That I could still kill him, and then escape myself to you and win you; and I went out from his room and crept out to the back of his house and caught him—doing, what think you? In the very act of sending a message to his spies to arrest me at the place to which he was sending me to find you. I knew then he had told me the truth, where you were; and I shot him and saw him fall dead without a word, without a groan even, and I hurried away to you. To you, my love, my last hope in life, my love, my love. God, how I burn for you!" he exclaimed with fresh ecstasy. Sarita shuddered and drew in her breath, at these evident proofs of his madness. "You told me Lord Glisfoyle was waiting for me," she said, scarce knowing in her growing alarm what to say.