It was four o’clock in the afternoon, and the shadows of twilight began to gather on the gloomy sky.  Agatha brought in a lamp, and all retired save Carmen; thus leaving her and her father alone together, undisturbed.  Mauer lay quiet, with his eyes half closed; while his daughter sat holding his hand in a loving clasp, her head buried in the coverlid.  In the stillness which prevailed in the chamber of death, the door was heard to open, and some one entered noiselessly; but the draught caused by the open window closed the door sharply behind the visitor.  Mauer opened his eyes at the sound, and looked up vacantly as if he did not recognize Jonathan.  Carmen also raised her head; but when she saw who it was, she immediately hid her face again, for she felt it quite impossible to speak to him now.  Kneeling between the bed and the wall, her form was completely hidden in the dark shadow.

“Brother Mauer, I have just returned from the Country, and hear that you have been ill.  What is the matter?” asked Jonathan.

At the sound of his voice, the sick man shivered as if from an icy breath of wind.  He stared at the physician with dilated eyes.

“Brother Jonathan,” he faltered, “the end has come, and the old, dark story will be laid with me in the grave.  I know I have sinned grievously, but have atoned with a life of repentance and cruel suffering for the murder of an inoffensive wife.”

As the old man spoke, Jonathan looked at him sharply and searchingly.  The light of the lamp shone on his altered features, which bore the stamp of death.  The physician seized his hand; the pulse was almost gone; there was no possibility of saving his life; each moment brought the end nearer.  Then Jonathan’s hate, revenge, and scorn broke loose, and flashed unrestrained from his eyes, which were fixed on the figure lying before him.  For twenty years he had hated this man more than any other on earth; and for twenty years he had been obliged to put on the hypocrisy of love towards him.  What a trial for his hot, seething passion!  At the last, the moment had now come when his enemy was in his power, and he could throw up his visor and show his real face!  Now was the time to crown his revenge, before the object of it passed entirely out of his reach forever.

Jonathan glanced hastily around the quiet darkened chamber, to convince himself that they were alone.  He saw no one; the faint light showed only the pale features of the dying one pressed against the pillow.  It was not possible that any one could be there!  Old Ursula, the only other occupant of the house, had retired to the kitchen to weep and lament; and having passed directly up from the front door to the sick-room, he was ignorant of the presence of others in the dwelling.

Then Jonathan gave free play to his wild rage.  “Murderer of your wife?” he said scornfully.  “Fool! if it had been only the drops you gave her, she would be alive now; but nothing could have saved her.  In the hurry of that night, Thomas, being just roused from sleep, gave you the other man’s medicine, and handed yours to him.  What you had was only good for infants; and Sister Julie might have drunk the whole bottleful without injury.”