I could not help remarking, when Lennox was introduced to him, that the wounded man smiled bitterly, as much as to say--"I know _him_ but too well, and he has fearful cause to know _me_." "Mr Brail," said he (I had to stoop to catch his words, he spoke in so low a tone), "I am aware of the object of this visit--it is all proper. Let the escribano there get his paper ready; I shall make short work of the confessional." The man sat down. Adderfang again shut his eyes, and seemed for a few moments to be gathering his thoughts about him; at length-- "I acknowledge that I stabbed the Englishman, Mr Brail, and robbed him afterwards; and that the English marine, Lennox, acted nobly and honourably in coming to the assistance of his countryman. He was the man who wounded me. There you have it all; engross it, and I will sign it." As if desirous of being heard distinctly, he had, as he pronounced these words with difficulty, in detached sentences, raised himself on his left arm, and now, as if exhausted, he fell back with his head on poor Antonia's lap. "The tackle of _his_ heart was cracked and burned, And all the shrouds wherewith _his_ life should sail, Are turned to one poor thread, one little hair." There was a long pause. "But why," said the Juez at length--"why did you waylay Mr Brail?" "For two reasons," replied the dying bravo; "first, because I harboured revenge for the destruction of my vessel by the Midge, _steered by him_, as that young gentleman afterwards told me" (here De Walden and I exchanged looks), "on the bar of the African river; secondly, because he took my last stiver from me at the gaming-table." "Evil motives both, my son, to be entertained by any, but especially by one standing on the threshold of eternity. Let me recall the priest, that he may shrive you, and probably, with God's blessing, induce you to repent before you go hence." I turned to look at the person who spoke. He was a tall and very dark Spaniard, his age might have been sixty, and his short and scanty hair was of a silver grey. He was plainly dressed in black, and sat at a small table, and opposite to him the escribano, or notary, with his paper before him, and pen held up between him. and the candle, and ready wet with ink. "It is of no use, _and I will not_," said Adderfang; "besides, if I am any thing at all, I am a Protestant--and as the tree falls, so must it lie--it is a part of my creed.--_Creed_!" he here interjected to himself with great bitterness--"_my creed!_ whatever it may be of yours, and I feel that all the roots that knit me to the earth have already parted, save one; therefore, let me die, if not in peace, at least in quietness." He stopped to take breath, and when he proceeded, it was in a voice even more weak and trembling than before.