"Bill," he said, "forgive me--forget that deed--I am going now--it was that fiery liquor distorted my senses. Bill, there is a hell, I feel its breath scorch me now!" "Will you have the old priest to absolve you like?" "No, no, I will die as I have lived; I will meet the devil like a man; I have served him all my life; I have sown the wind, why should I play him false now, or be amazed if I reap the whirlwind? I have been a great sinner, but God knows my blood is on your head, Bill; you brought me to this, and--Oh God!--I am gone! A mortal pang ran me through like a knife--the Devil has hold of my heart! oh, heavens! I die--I d--i--e." The death rattle in his throat choked the last words, and the soulless form of what was once John de Vere sank back,--the immortal soul fled to its dread Maker. "Ay, he is gone; wild and bad he was, yet he was a fine fellow. I have had my revenge. The last act remains only to be played out, but his murder must e'en be avenged," said old Bill, as he lifted the dead man's hand and let it fall nerveless again by his side. At that moment Pedro and a youth of eleven or twelve, though he looked much older, entered the chamber of death. "How is Luigi? Where is our Captain?" asked Pedro. "Luigi is where we shall all be one day, with the master he served!" "Alas!" said Pedro, as he approached the bed on which all that was once his chief lay. "Alas! my brave Captain, my true friend, thou art laid low by a felon hand! Thou wert a true brigand,--a bold, fearless leader,--and what art thou now? inanimate clay--soulless dust! Farewell, Luigi, foreigner though thou wert,--the pride of the banditti, the terror of the Capitanata, the scourge of the Abruzzi! Thou art lost now; dull is the eagle eye--cold the impassioned cheek--nerveless the strong arm--still the high heart. Woe to us now! Who shall lead our bands? who shall think, plan, fight, and divide the prey? Woe to the hand that spilt thy blood! We have lost our head to-day; I have lost my friend--my boonfellow! Alas! woe is me!" Tears stood in the robber's eyes, to whom the late Captain had been a guiding star and friend--even in crime there is a sort of false glory--even among robbers a sort of friendship! The boy Giovanni, too, leaned over the death-bed. "Alas! thou art low, high heart, brave soul! But, like the rays of the setting sun, a twilight glory lingers yet. Thy life is gone; not so thy example. The fiery soul lingers still. I feel it swell within me! Our Captain is gone. I will be leader now. I am young; but it was his will. I am a boy in years--a man in soul. This sword," taking the late Captain's blade, "shall not lose its lustre. Call our men in; let them own their chieftain." Pedro blew a blast. Silently and sadly the whole band assembled. They filled the room; there were at least seventy bold spirits besides Bill, Giovanni, and Pedro; there was only one of the other sex; she wept bitterly, as she pressed the cold hand of Luigi.