“His death only inspired me with a ferocious joy. I gloried in my act of vengeance. But when I saw her lying there, gasping out her life, I changed. I had loved her so tenderly and true, until she fell from me. I had idolized her almost. And yet—I had killed her!” The old man choked and paused. Campbell, pale and horror-stricken, did not speak. Then Mestayer, with an effort, resumed, his head bowed upon his hands, his voice sounding like that of one talking in a dream. “How long I remained there I do not know, but it must have been for hours. The alarm was given by some one who had heard the shot and investigated it. The neighbors came and found me sitting there, _her_ head upon my breast, her form clasped tight to my heart. Despite this they knew that I was the murderer. My revolver lay there, with one chamber discharged, as the blue gas around the tube showed, recently. My knife—with initials carved upon the horn handle—was beside me, covered with blood. “They say that I acted like a madman when they tried to remove her body. But numbers prevailed, and I was bound. The next I remember I was in the county jail, tried and condemned to death. But trusty Sam didn’t fail me. “He set me free—I have not patience now to tell all that he had to do, but he was at work for three nights before I was set free. Then, just as I mounted the horse he had brought for my use, we were discovered. Sam struck the horse a heavy blow that maddened it, and I was saved, though I tried to turn and aid him. “Yes, he—the simple, unlearned negro—he saved me, at the cost of his own life. He was shot, but he kept the guards engaged until I was beyond their reach. Thus I lost my only friend. “I had only one thing to live for—_revenge_. I swore to devote my life to that one end—and I have not yet forgotten my oath. For a time I kept in hiding, but then I set to work. _You_ are the first one that knows for a certainty how your father died. _I_ shot him.” Campbell uttered a hoarse cry, and strove to arise, his eyes blazing with horror and vengeance. But the strong cords restrained his fury. “And why—what had he done to you?” “I have told you. Besides, I swore that I would destroy the entire race of the Hawksleys and Campbells. Boy, my wife was your father’s sister.” Campbell listened in astonishment. Until now he had believed his father had been an only child. But there was something in the old man’s tones that told him he was speaking the truth. “I am telling you the truth, though you seem to doubt it. But that matters little. I need only tell you a little more. After I killed your father, I had to hide again. I fled to New Orleans. While there, I met a Spanish creole and married her. Had she lived, I might have reformed, for I loved her with all my hot, fiery nature. But she died, leaving me one babe—you have seen her here—Lola.