“We have fully decided to go from here, and further reasoning or entreaty would be vain; accept, however, my thanks for your proffered kindness.”

“Girl, you have gone too far!  Hear me while I am placable, for I tell you now, without my consent, you cannot—­shall not leave here.”

“You have neither right nor power to detain me.”

“Have I not?  I swear, if you do not hear and abide by what I say, your father’s soul will remain forever in purgatory, where it justly belongs.”

“How dare you make so miserable a threat?” said the calm, clear voice of Mary, who had approached unobserved.

“Cursed believer in a cursed creed, what do you here?  Begone, or dread the vengeance I shall surely inflict on so blasphemous and damnable a heretic!”

Winding her arm tightly about Florence’s waist, she replied—­“‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.  I will repay;’ and though I have never injured you, Padre—­even if I had, it ill becomes a consecrated priest to utter such language, or so madly to give vent to passion.”

“Silence!” thundered the Padre, livid with rage; “I will compass heaven and earth rather than you shall escape me.”

“Come, Florry, this is no place for us now; even the churchyard is not sacred.  Come home.”

“Florence, dare you curse your own father?” The girl’s lips quivered, but no sound came forth—­she seemed stunned.

“You would usurp the prerogatives of Jehovah, Father Mazzolin; but your threat is vain.  You cannot bless or damn my uncle at will.  How dare you, guilty as you are, hold such impious language?”

For a moment he quailed before the calm, unflinching girl, then seizing Florence’s arm, hoarsely exclaimed:  “One more chance I give you.  Florence, I am your brother—­your father, my father.  On his death-bed he confessed his sins and discovered his son.”

A deep groan burst from Florence’s lips, and her slender frame quivered like a reed in a wintry blast.  The Padre laid his head on the granite slab which covered the remains of Mr. Hamilton, and continued:  “I call God in heaven, and all the saints to witness the truth of what I say, and if I prove it not, may I sink into perdition.  When your father was yet young, he made the tour of Europe.  Traveling in Italy, he met at Florence a poor but beautiful girl; and she, struck, in turn, by the handsome face of the stranger, left her humble home, and listened to the voice of seduction.  He remained five months at Florence, and then suddenly left Italy for his native country, without apprising the unfortunate woman of his intentions.  Hatred succeeded to love, and she vowed vengeance.  That woman was my mother; and when ten years had passed, she told me my parentage, and made me swear on the altar of her patron saint that I would fulfil her vow of vengeance.  She died, and I became a priest of Rome, and in time was sent by my order to Mexico, and thence here to assist my aged and infirm predecessor.