Mauer’s gaze wandered uncertainly towards the speaker; a shudder passed over his dying form, and his brain made a powerful effort to penetrate the mists gathering over it.

“I did not kill Julie, and you knew it and never told me?” he stammered, with fast-failing voice.

“Certainly I knew it; but did you ever ask me about it?  The other man had more forethought than you, and read the label before administering the dose to his child; and when he saw the name, he brought it back at once.  It was two hours before he could get to my house again, and then Thomas had to prepare fresh medicine.  Then I took the opium-drops intended for Sister Julie, and jumped on my horse; for although I knew she never could recover, I wanted to fulfil my duty as a physician, and do all I could to correct my servant’s mistake.  But I found her already dead; yes, from all appearances she must have been dead several hours.  When I asked how that could have resulted from the drops, and saw your disturbed countenance, and how you became pale and faint, I thought you must have meditated the death of your wife, and with such design had given her a double dose which you intended should be fatal.  I put the vial in my pocket, so that my servant’s blunder might not be brought up against him or me.  But Mauer,” cried Jonathan, in a voice of frenzy, “when I stood by Don Manuel’s death-bed and discovered your guilty love for Inez, while your wife stood in your way, everything became clear to me.”

“You knew, Brother Jonathan, that I was bearing all the tortures of remorse, and yet gave me no word of explanation?” whispered the unhappy victim.

“That is not surprising.  Do you know what hate is?  You knew that I loved Inez.  Can you imagine how I must have hated you who robbed me of her?” continued Jonathan, pitilessly.

“Yes, I knew you looked on yourself as a murderer!  It answered my purpose not to have you think otherwise.  It was sweet to me to see how this thought tortured you; it was a great satisfaction to know I held you in my power, like a butterfly on a needle, which it cannot get away from, and yet which remains quiescent and kills it painfully and slowly.  Do you think I would not have brought you to justice if it had been true?  Surely I would not have failed to do it; but Thomas, who knew all the circumstances and was with me in the mission, is here; he would have witnessed against me, had I accused you before the public.  But I knew how to revenge myself on you for having stolen Inez from me, and for refusing me Carmen’s hand.  Your life must pay for Inez; your death will rob Carmen, as you have willed away your fortune from her for your supposed crime and left it to our community.  Thus you will die at last, filled with regret at having wasted a life in unnecessary penance, and your silent lips will now take the old, dark story into the grave.  I, however, will always feel an inward sense of triumph and delight that it was my foot which crushed you!”