"What I have said of Magdalena del Naufragio," (or Magdalena of the Wreck, for by this name she was known at Isabela,) "is false. In malice and folly I have laid perjury on my soul; and, as I now speak the truth, I pray heaven to forgive me.--Amen. "ANTONIO DEL MILAGRO." "Good heaven!" said Juan, "is it possible Antonio could commit this dastardly crime? Alas, Magdalena, I _have_ done you a grievous wrong, and I beseech you, pardon me.--This thing was not only wicked, but marvellous. The paper is stained with blood--The saints acquit me of his death, for it was I who shed it! I am glad he died penitent--What brought him to this justice? I held my dagger to his throat, yet he cried, with a devilish malice and courage, 'Strike, for--' But I will not repeat his sinful and exulting falsehoods.--Alas, that his blood should be upon my soul! the blood of his father's son!" Magdalena surveyed the self-accusing looks of the prisoner, with much emotion; and twice or thrice she opened her lips, to give him comfort, or to continue her dark and singular story, and yet failed, as many times, to speak. At last, she clasped her hands upon her bosom, as if, by an effort of physical strength, to give support and resolution to her heart, and said, with low and interrupted accents, "Lament no more for a sin thou hast not committed. Thou wert deceived--Hilario died not by thy hands." "Hah!" exclaimed Juan, "dost thou tell me the truth? Is Hilario yet living? God be thanked! God be thanked! for I am not a murderer!" He fell upon his knees, and looking up to heaven with joy, beheld not the grief and trepidation with which his companion surveyed his raptures. "I told thee, not that he lived, but that thou didst not slay him," said the nun, with an effort.--"Had my father come to my side, and looked upon this paper, after hearing the story of Hilario's baseness, what think you he should have done?" "Killed him, I must allow," said Juan, rising to his feet; "for even his deep penitence could scarcely be permitted to stand as the sole penalty of such an offence.--Alas, Magdalena, my mind is beset with sore misgivings. How was that paper obtained? How did Hilario die? Thou growest pale! Heaven shield me! didst thou, didst _thou_--?" He paused with terror. The maiden replied instantly, and almost with firmness: