articulation of the dread he had been struggling so hard to repress.

"You do not know her!" he continued. "If you had ever seen her, you
could not speak of death. She was not made to die. I beg you to abandon
this mood. You will drive me to despair. I cannot live another moment
without the hope that I shall be forgiven by this old man whom I have so
terribly wronged, and I know that he will not forgive me unless I put
back into his hands the treasure of which I robbed him."

"Corson," said Mantel, rising and taking David by the hand, "you must
give up this dream of receiving the old man's pardon."

"I cannot!"

"You must! He will not grant it even if Pepeeta comes. The knife has
gone too deep! His heart is broken, and his mind, I think, is deranged.
And more than this, he will not live until Pepeeta comes unless she
hastens on the wings of the wind. He is dying, Corson, dying. You cannot
imagine how he has withered away since you saw him. It is like watching
a candle flicker in its socket. You must abandon this hope, I say."

"And I say that it is impossible."

"But you must. What difference can it possibly make whether he forgives
you or not? The wrong is done. It cannot be undone."

"What difference? What difference, did you say? Is it possible that you
do not know? Do you think a man could endure this life, hard enough at
the best, if he were haunted by a dead man's curse?"