"
"And there?"
"There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--
oh, I have seen something else besides theological
seminaries since you used to teach me philosophy!
You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and
much! You say you have dreamed of me--yes,
and I of you----"
He broke off, shuddering.
"Once," he began again abruptly, "I was working
at a mine in Ecuador----"
"Not as a miner?"
"No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the
coolies. We had a barrack to sleep in at the pit's
mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same
as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing
sun--I must have got light-headed, for I saw you
come in at the door-way. You were holding a
crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying,
and brushed past me without turning. I
cried out to you to help me--to give me poison or
a knife--something to put an end to it all before I
went mad. And you--ah------!"
He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli
was still clasping the other.
"I saw in your face that you had heard, but you
never looked round; you went on with your prayers.
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