He let his head fall upon his breast with well-assumed humility, remained a moment in silence, looked up mournfully and said, “I would to God that I had really married you, for then I should not have been bearing this accursed load of guilt that has been crushing me for months.”

At these words, Pepeeta sprang from her seat and stood before him with her hands clasped upon her breast.

“Be quick! go on!” she cried, when she had waited in vain for him to proceed.

“Prepare yourself for a revelation of treachery and dishonor.  I can conceal my crime no longer.  If I hold my peace the very stones in the street will cry out against me.”

“Make haste!” Pepeeta exclaimed, imperatively.

“Madam,” continued the strange man, “I have betrayed you.”

“You have betrayed me?”

“Yes, I have betrayed you.  Do you understand?  You are not married to your husband.  I deceived you as I was bribed to do.  I was not a justice.  I had no right to perform that ceremony.  It was a solemn farce.  Your false lover desired to possess the privileges without assuming the responsibilities of marriage.”

These words, spoken slowly, solemnly, and with a simulation of candor which would have deceived her even if she had not desired to believe them, produced the most profound impression upon the mind of Pepeeta.  She approached the judge and cried:  “Sir, I beg you in the name of heaven not to trifle with me!  Is what you have told me true?”

“Alas, too true.”

“If it is true, you will say it before the God in heaven?  Raise your right hand!”

Before an appeal so solemn and a soul so pure a man less corrupt would have faltered; but without a moment’s hesitation this depraved, remorseless creature did as she commanded.

“I swear it,” he said.

“Oh! sir,” she cried, “you cannot understand; but this is the happiest moment of my life!”

“Madam?” he exclaimed, interrogatively and with consummate art.

“It is not necessary for you to know why,” she answered; “but on my knees I thank you.”

He lifted her up.  “What can it mean?  I implore you to tell me,” he said.

“Do not ask me!” she replied.  “I cannot tell you now!  My heart is too full.”

“But does this mean that I have nothing to regret and that you have forgiven me?”

“It does.  For it is against God only you have sinned!  As for myself, I bless you from the bottom of my heart!”

She gave him her hand.  He took it in his own and held it, looking first at her and then at David with an expression of such surprise as to deceive his accomplice scarcely less than his victim.  Young, inexperienced, innocent in this sin at least, she stood between them—­helpless.

It is one thing for a woman deliberately to renounce her marriage vows to taste the sweets of forbidden pleasure, but quite another for a heart so loyal to duty, to be betrayed into crime by an ingenuity worthy of devils.