wall,” and the Inquisitor pointed to the large black crucifix at the back of the chair where he sat; “one drop of the blood shed there can purify you from all the sin you have ever committed; but all that blood, combined with the intercession of the Queen of Heaven, and the merits of all its martyrs, nay, even the absolution of the Pope, cannot deliver you from the curse of dying in unrepented sin.”—­“What sin, then, have I committed?”—­“The greatest of all possible sins; you refuse answering the questions put to you at the tribunal of the most holy and merciful Inquisition;—­you will not tell us what you know concerning the death of Father Olavida.”—­“I have told you that I believe he perished in consequence of his ignorance and presumption.”  “What proof can you produce of that?”—­ “He sought the knowledge of a secret withheld from man.”  “What was that?”—­“The secret of discovering the presence or agency of the evil power.”  “Do you possess that secret?”—­After much agitation on the part of the prisoner, he said distinctly, but very faintly, “My master forbids me to disclose it.”  “If your master were Jesus Christ, he would not forbid you to obey the commands, or answer the questions of the Inquisition.”—­“I am not sure of that.”  There was a general outcry of horror at these words.  The examination then went on.  “If you believed Olavida to be guilty of any pursuits or studies condemned by our mother the church, why did you not denounce him to the Inquisition?”—­“Because I believed him not likely to be injured by such pursuits; his mind was too weak,—­ he died in the struggle,” said the prisoner with great emphasis.  “You believe, then, it requires strength of mind to keep those abominable secrets, when examined as to their nature and tendency?”—­“No, I rather imagine strength of body.”  “We shall try that presently,” said an Inquisitor, giving a signal for the torture.

. . . . .

The prisoner underwent the first and second applications with unshrinking courage, but on the infliction of the water-torture, which is indeed insupportable to humanity, either to suffer or relate, he exclaimed in the gasping interval, he would disclose everything.  He was released, refreshed, restored, and the following day uttered the following remarkable confession. . . .

. . . . .

The old Spanish woman further confessed to Stanton, that. . . .

. . . . .

and that the Englishman certainly had been seen in the neighborhood since;—­seen, as she had heard, that very night.  “Great G—­d!” exclaimed Stanton, as he recollected the stranger whose demoniac laugh had so appalled him, while gazing on the lifeless bodies of the lovers, whom the lightning had struck and blasted.