Whether it costs your
existence or mine, Don Teodoro, this thing shall not be done."
"No," said Don Teodoro. "It shall not. You are in a terrible position
yourself. I feel for you."
"I?" Taquisara bent his brows. "I, in a terrible position?"
"Do not be angry," answered the priest, gently. "I know your secret well
enough, though she does not guess it yet. Do not think me indiscreet
because I mention the fact. It would be far better if you could go away
for the present. But I know how you are situated, and you are helping to
prevent mischief. We must help each other. If it is to cost the
existence of one of us, it shall be mine. You are young, and I am old.
And that is not the only reason. My secret is not like yours. I cannot
let it go down into the grave with me. I have kept it long enough, and I
should have kept it longer, if this had not happened. I shall probably
go to Naples to-morrow. You must prevent them from publishing the banns
until I come back, or until you hear from me. I may never come back. It
is possible."
"What do you mean?" asked Taquisara, for he saw a strange look in the
old man's clear eyes.
"I shall not end my life here," he said quietly.
"You? End your life? You, commit suicide? Are you mad, Don Teodoro?"
"Oh no! I may live many years yet. I hope that I may, for I have much to
repent of. But I shall not live here."
"I hope you will," said Taquisara. "But if you know my secret--keep it.
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