“This is not the first time that I have vainly endeavored to discover wherein I have offended, that by the humiliation of myself, or by any other means, I might restore the unison that before existed between us.  I conjure thee, Celestina,” he said, approaching and taking her hand into one of his, while with the other he drew back a curtain on the wall, which, on being withdrawn, exposed to view the carved figure of Christ extended on the cross, “by the Captain of our faith, whose soldiers we are, to put away this estrangement, which if it does not defeat, may hazard and retard our mutual plans.”

The lady withdrew not her hand, but allowing it to remain in his, stood up.  She bowed her head before the crucifix, and murmured—­Domino Jesu speravi in te.  Turning then to the Knight she said—­

“Sir Christopher, look upon that sorrowful face, and that drooping head, bleeding under the points of the accursed thorns.  Thy sins and mine gave them their sharpness.  Gaze upon the hideous nails that pierce those blessed hands and feet, and upon the blood trickling from that divine side, and say, canst thou be untrue to him?”

“Woman!  Celestina! what meanest thou?  Why this solemn adjuration?”

“Thou wert dedicated to a service,” she continued, her pale face flushing with enthusiasm, “to which nobles and kings, the proudest and noblest of earth, might aspire.  Do thy devoir, and incalculable will be thy reward; fail therein, and the doom of Judas were heaven to thy fate.”

“Thou art mad, Celestina.  Some dreadful delusion hath blinded thy understanding.  Hear me now”—­and he bent down and kissed the feet of the image of the Saviour, and then raising his head fixed his eyes upon it—­“per adventum tuum, per nativitatem tuam, per baptismum et sanctum jejunium tuum, per crucem et passionem tuam, per mortem et sepulturam tuam, per sanctam resurrectionem tuam, et per admirabilem ascensionem tuam—­I am guilty, truly, of weakness and ignorance, and unintentional sin, but not of want of faithfulness to that whereunto thou hast called me.”

“Sir Christopher!  Oh!  Sir Christopher,” cried the lady, falling at his feet, “Wherefore, when I besought thee before to explain thy conduct, did you treat me so slightingly?  Wherefore ever refuse to satisfy my questions?”

“Because I considered them unworthy of thee and me; because I regarded them as the petulance of a passing feminine curiosity; because I knew not how serious was thy desire?

“Deus adjuva me!” sobbed the lady.

“Rise, my sister,” said the Knight, assisting her to a seat.  “Henceforth let no distrust exist between us, and, that it may be so, inquire, and I will answer as at the confessional.”

Of the conversation which ensued we shall give no account, save that, at its conclusion, tears were flowing plentifully from the eyes of the lady, while the Knight seemed puzzled at her extraordinary emotion.