This then was the end of Isabella de Siguenza who was murdered by
priests because she had dared to break their rule.
So soon as I could clear my mind somewhat of all that I had seen and
heard in that dreadful vault, I began to consider the circumstances in
which I found myself. In the first place I was now a rich man, and if it
pleased me to go back to Norfolk with my wealth, as Fonseca had pointed
out, my prospects were fair indeed. But the oath that I had taken hung
like lead about my neck. I had sworn to be avenged upon de Garcia, and
I had prayed that the curse of heaven might rest upon me till I was so
avenged, but in England living in peace and plenty I could scarcely come
by vengeance. Moreover, now I knew where he was, or at least in what
portion of the world I might seek him, and there where white men are few
he could not hide from me as in Spain. This tidings I had gained from
the doomed lady, and I have told her story at some length because it
was through it and her that I came to journey to Hispaniola, as it was
because of the sacrifice of her tormentor, Father Pedro, by the priests
of the Otomie that I am here in England this day, since had it not been
for that sacrifice the Spaniards would never have stormed the City of
Pines, where, alive or dead, I should doubtless have been to this hour;
for thus do seeming accidents build up the fates of men.
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