"Then I made my last prayer, I kissed the golden crucifix that now hangs
upon this breast wherein I dwell," and the hand of the living Benita was
lifted, and moving like the hand of a dead thing, slowly drew out the
symbol from beneath the cloak, held it for a moment in the lamplight,
and let it fall to its place again. "I put my hands before my eyes that
I might not see, and I hurled myself from the pinnacle."
Now the voice ceased, but from the lips came a dreadful sound, such as
might be uttered by one whose bones are shattered upon rocks, followed
by other sounds like those of one who chokes in water. They were so
horrible to hear that Mr. Clifford nearly fainted, and even Jacob Meyer
staggered and turned white as the white face of Benita.
"Wake her! For God's sake, wake her!" said her father. "She is dying, as
that woman died hundreds of years ago."
"Not till she has told us where the gold is. Be quiet, you fool. She
does not feel or suffer. It is the spirit within her that lives through
the past again."
Once more there was silence. It seemed as though the story were all told
and the teller had departed.
"Benita da Ferreira," said Meyer at length, "I command you, tell me, are
you dead?"
"Oh! would that I were dead, as my body is dead!" wailed the lips of
Benita.
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