"What mean you, senor?"

"Don Valerian dies within the hour."

"You are jesting, sir. My brother has not been sick? He is not wounded? Why should he die?"

She speaks hurriedly, and with an incredulous stare at Uraga; while at the same time her heaving, palpitating bosom shows she too truly believes what he said.

"Don Valerian is not sick," continues the unfeeling wretch, "nor yet has he received any wound. For all this, in less than an hour he must die.

It is decreed."

"_Madre de Dios_! You are mocking me. His death decreed! By whom?"

"Not by me, I a.s.sure you. The military authorities of the country have been his judges, and condemned him long ago, as also Don Prospero. It only needed their capture to have the sentence carried out. This disagreeable duty has been entrusted to me. My orders at starting were to have both shot on the instant of making them captives. For your sake, senorita, I've so far disobeyed the rigorous command--an act which may cost me my commission. Yes, Dona Adela, for your sake."

The tale is preposterous, and might seem to her who hears it a lie, but for her knowledge of many similar occurrences in the history of her native land, "Cosas de Mexico." Besides, her own and her brother's experience render it but too probable.

"_Dios de mi alma_!" she cries out in the anguish of conviction, "can this be true?"

"It is true."

"Colonel Uraga, you will not carry out this cruel sentence! It is not an execution--it is an a.s.sa.s.sination! You will not stain your soul with murder?"

"I must obey orders."

"My poor brother! Have mercy! You can save him?"

"I can."

"You will? You will?"

"I will!"

The emphasis with which these two words are p.r.o.nounced brings a flush of gratefulness over her face, and she makes a forward movement as if to thank him by a pressure of the hand. She might have given it but for the cast upon his features, telling his consent not yet obtained, nor his speech finished. There is more to come--two other words. They are--

"Upon conditions!"

They check her bursting grat.i.tude. Conditions! She knows not what they may be. But she knows the character of Gil Uraga, and can predict they will be hard.

"Name them!" she demands. "If it be money, I'm ready to give it.

Though my brother's property is taken from him, as we've heard, not so mine. I have wealth--houses, lands. Take all, but save Valerian's life."

"You can save it without expending a single _claco_; only by giving a grace."

"What mean you, senor?"

"To explain my meaning I'll repeat what I've said. Your brother's head is forfeit. It can be saved by a hand."

"Still I do not understand you. A hand?"

"Yes, your hand."

"How?"

"Grasped in mine--united with it in holy wedlock. That is all I ask."

She starts as if a serpent had stung her, for she now comprehends all.

"All I ask," he continues in a strain of fervid pa.s.sion, "I who love you with my whole soul; who have loved you for long hopeless years--aye, senorita, ever since you were a schoolgirl; myself a rough, wild youth, the son of a ranchero, who dared only gaze at you from a distance. I am a peasant no longer, but one who has wealth; upon whom the State has bestowed power to command; made me worthy to choose a wife from among the proudest in our land--even to wed with the Dona Adela Miranda, who beholds him at her feet!"

While speaking he has knelt before her, and remains upon his knees awaiting her response.

She makes none. She stands as if petrified, deprived of the power of speech.

Her silence gives him hope.

"Dona Adela," he continues in an appealing tone, as if to strengthen the chances of an affirmative answer, "I will do everything to make you happy--everything a husband can. And remember your brother's life! I am risking my own to save it. I have just spoken to him on the subject.

He does not object; on the contrary, has given consent to you being mine."

"You say so?" she inquires, with a look of incredulity. "I do not believe it--will not, without hearing it from his own lips."

While speaking, she springs past the kneeling suppliant, and, before he can get upon his legs or stretch forth a hand to detain her, she has glided out of the tent, and makes for the place where she supposes the prisoners to be kept.

Starting to his feet, Uraga rushes after. His intent is to overtake and bring her back, even if he have to carry her.

He is too late. Before he can come up with her she has reached the spot where her brother lies bound, and kneels beside him with arms embracing, her lips pressing his brow, his cheeks moistened by her tears.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

A TERRIBLE INTENTION.

Not for long does the scene of agonised affection remain uninterrupted.

In a few seconds it is intruded on by him who is causing its agony.

Uraga, hastening after, has reached the spot and stands contemplating it. A spectacle to melt a heart of stone, it has no softening effect on his. His brow his black with rage, his eyes shining like coals of fire.

His first impulse is to call Galvez and order him to drag brother and sister apart. His next to do this himself. He is about seizing Adela's wrist, when a thought restrains him. No melting or impulse of humanity.

There is not a spark of it in his bosom. Only a hope, suddenly conceived, that with the two now together he may repeat his proposal with a better chance of its being entertained.

From the expression upon their countenances he can see that in the interval before his coming up words have pa.s.sed between them--few and hastily spoken, but enough for each to have been told what he has been saying to the other. It does not daunt; on the contrary, but determines him to renew his offer, and, if necessary, reiterate his threats.

There is no one within earshot for whom he need care. Galvez has taken Don Prospero far apart. Roblez is inside the tent, though he thinks not of him; while the Indian damsel, who stands trembling by, is not worth a thought. Besides, he is now more than ever regardless of the result.

"Don Valerian Miranda!" he exclaims, recovering breath after his chase across the camp-ground. "I take it your sister has told you what has pa.s.sed between us. If not, I shall tell you myself."

"My sister has communicated all--even the falsehood by which you've sought to fortify your infamous proposal."