'
'That must be yonder, cousin,' I said, pointing with the sword toward
the pit of the crater.
'It is yonder; I have looked.'
'But only for the body, cousin, not for the spirit.'
'Only for the body, not for the spirit,' he repeated after me.
'Continue,' I said.
'Afterwards on that same day I met you, Thomas Wingfield. Already your
dead mother's prophecy had taken hold of me, and seeing one of her blood
I strove to kill him lest he should kill me.'
'As he will do presently, cousin.'
'As he will do presently,' he repeated like a talking bird.
'You know what happened and how I escaped. I fled to Spain and strove
to forget. But I could not. One night I saw a face in the streets of
Seville that reminded me of your face. I did not think that it could
be you, yet so strong was my fear that I determined to fly to the far
Indies. You met me on the night of my flight when I was bidding farewell
to a lady.'
'One Isabella de Siguenza, cousin. I bade farewell to her afterwards and
delivered her dying words to you. Now she waits to welcome you again,
she and her child.'
He shuddered and went on. 'In the ocean we met again. You rose out of
the sea. I did not dare to kill you at once, I thought that you must die
in the slave-hold and that none could bear witness against me and hold
me guilty of your blood. You did not die, even the sea could not destroy
you.
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