Mother of God protect us!" Clarence rolled to his feet, with the events of the past night struggling back upon his consciousness.
"What mean you, Nascio ?" he said, grasping the man's arm, which was still mechanically making the sign of the cross, as he muttered incoherently.

"Speak, I command you!" "It is Jose, the little vacquero, who is even now at the padre's house, raving as a lunatic, stricken as a madman with terror! He has seen him,--the dead alive! Save us!" "Are you mad yourself, Nascio ?" said Clarence.

"Whom has he seen ?" "Whom?
God help us! the old padron--Senor Peyton himself! He rushed towards him here, in the patio, last night--out of the air, the sky, the ground, he knew not,--his own self, wrapped in his old storm cloak and hat, and riding his own horse,--erect, terrible, and menacing, with an awful hand upholding a rope--so! He saw him with these eyes, as I see you.

What HE said to him, God knows! The priest, perhaps, for he has made confession!" In a flash of intelligence Clarence comprehended all.

He rose grimly and began to dress himself.
"Not a word of this to the women,--to any one, Nascio, dost thou understand ?" he said curtly.