He had understood the dying words of Saturnino: he had understood that this poor brute had been her father.
'He is gone where he will harm no one any more,' he said to her, with tears in his own eyes. 'He is dead, dear. He had a rush of blood over the brain that killed him. Let us leave him to God.'
'Is he dead?' she said; but it moved her little. He had been nothing to her, this outlawed man, who first had stolen her gold and last had striven to slay the only life she loved. She had pitied him because men had hunted him; that was all.
Suddenly again she raised herself and looked in Este's eyes, and a wave of hot colour went over all her face.
'My child died,' she murmured timidly as if afraid he would rebuke her.
'Yours!—-mine!'
A great pang of remorse went through him. Had she suffered thus, he knowing nothing, living in pleasure and in oblivion!
'Ours,' she said softly under her breath. 'He lived a few little days; I did all I could.'
Her eyes closed, and large tears rolled slowly off her lashes and fell upon his hand.
