“He strove to plunge the dagger in thy breast, Gaston,” said Raymond, who was supporting the head of the dying man; “and failing that, he thought to smother thee in his bear-like clasp, that has crushed the life out of enemies before now, as we have ofttimes heard.  When he felt other foes around him unloosing that clasp, and knew himself balked of his purpose, he clutched the weapon thou hadst dashed from his hand and buried it in his own body.  As he has lived, so has he died —­ defiant to the very end.  But the madness-cloud may have hung long upon his spirit.  Perchance some of the worst of his crimes may not be laid to his charge.”

As Raymond spoke, the dying man opened his eyes, and fixed them upon the face bending over him.  The light of sullen defiance which had shone there but a few short moments ago changed to something strange and new as he met the calm, compassionate glance of those expressive eyes now fixed upon him.  He seemed to give a slight start, and to strive to draw himself away.

“Thou here!” he gasped —­ “thou!  Hast thou indeed come from the spirit world to mock me in my last moments?  I know thee now, Raymond de Brocas!  I have seen thee before —­ thou knowest how and where.  Methinks the very angels of heaven must have spirited thee away.  Why art thou here now?”

“To bid thee ask forgiveness for thy sins with thy dying breath,” answered Raymond, gently yet firmly; “to bid thee turn thy thoughts for one last moment towards thy Saviour, and though thou hast scorned and rebelled against Him in life, to ask His pardoning mercy in death.  He has pardoned a dying miscreant ere now.  Wilt thou not take upon thy lips that dying thief’s petition, and cry ‘Lord, remember me;’ or this prayer, ’Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner’?”

A gray shadow was creeping over the rugged face, the lips seemed to move, but no words came forth.  There was no priest at hand to listen to a dying confession, or to pronounce a priestly absolution, and yet Raymond had spoken as if there might yet be mercy for an erring, sin-stained soul, if it would but turn in its last agony to the Crucified One —­ the Saviour crucified for the sins of the whole world.

It must be remembered that there was less of priestcraft —­ less of what we now call popery —­ in those earlier days than there came to be later on; and the springs of truth, though somewhat tainted, were not poisoned, as it were, at the very source, as they afterwards became.  Something of the purity of primitive times lingered in the minds of men, and here and there were always found pure spirits upon whom the errors of man obtained no hold —­ spirits that seemed to rise superior to their surroundings, and hold communion direct with heaven itself.  Such a nature and such a mind was Raymond’s; and his clear, intense faith had been strengthened and quickened by the vicissitudes through which he had passed.  He did not hesitate to point the dying soul straight to the Saviour Himself, without