"I know it," interrupted the young girl, "you are alone in the world; I heard it this evening from my father."

The voice of Rosarita, in p.r.o.nouncing these words, was soft as the breeze that sighed through the groves of oranges; and her hand, falling as if by chance into that of Tiburcio, did not appear to shun the pressure given to it.

At the sight of this, the hand of Don Estevan gradually relaxed its hold upon the arm of Cuchillo.

"Yes," continued Tiburcio, "my mother died in poverty, though she has left me a valuable inheritance, and at the same time a legacy of vengeance. True, it is a dangerous secret of which I am the heir, for it has already been death to those who possessed it; nevertheless it will furnish the means to raise myself to an opulence like your own.

The vengeance which I have sworn to accomplish must be delayed, but it shall not be forgotten. I shall yet seek the murderer of Arellanos."

At these words Cuchillo turned pale, impatiently grinding his teeth.

His arm was no longer restrained, Don Estevan grasped it no more, for he saw that the hand of Rosarita was still pressed by that of Tiburcio.

"Here me further!" continued the young man. "About sixty leagues from here, in the heart of the Indian country, there is a placer of gold of incalculable richness; it was discovered by my adopted father. My mother on her death-bed gave me full directions to find the place; and all this gold may be mine, Rosarita, if you will only love me. Without your love I care nothing for it. What should I do with such riches?"

Tiburcio awaited the answer of Rosarita. That answer fell upon his heart like the tolling of a funeral knell.

"I hope, Tiburcio," said she, with a significant smile, "that this is only a _ruse_ on your part to put me to the proof--I hope so, because I do not wish to believe that you have acted so vile a part as to make yourself master of a secret that belongs to another."

"The secret of another!" cried the young man in a voice hoa.r.s.e with astonishment.

"Yes, a secret which belongs only to Don Estevan. I know it--"

Tiburcio at once fell from the summit of his dreams. So his secret, too, was lost to him as well as her whom he loved, this secret upon which he had built his sweetest hopes; and to add to the bitterness of his disappointment, she too--for whose sake alone he had valued it--she to accuse him of treason!

"Ah!" cried he, "Don Estevan knows of the Golden Valley? perhaps then he can tell me who murdered my father! Oh! my G.o.d!" cried he, striking the ground with his heel, "perhaps it was himself!"

"Pray G.o.d rather to protect you,--you will need all his grace!" cried a rough voice, which caused Rosarita to utter a cry of terror as she saw a dark form--that of a man--rushing forward and flinging himself upon Tiburcio.

The young man, before he could place himself in an att.i.tude of defence, received a severe wound, and losing his balance fell to the ground. The next moment his enemy was over him. For some minutes the two struggled together in silence--nothing was heard but their loud quick breathing.

The knife of Cuchillo, already stained with blood, had escaped from his hand, and lay gleaming upon the ground without his being able to reach it.

"Now, villain, we are quits," cried Tiburcio, who with an effort of supreme strength had got uppermost, and was kneeling upon the breast of the outlaw. "Villain!" repeated he, as he endeavoured to get hold of his poignard: "you shall die the death of an a.s.sa.s.sin."

Places had suddenly changed--Tiburcio was now the aggressor, but at this moment a third personage appeared upon the scene. It was Don Estevan.

"Hold," screamed Rosarita, "hold, for the love of the Holy Virgin! This young man is my father's guest; his life is sacred under our roof."

Don Estevan grasped the arm that was raised to strike Cuchillo, and as Tiburcio turned to see what thus interfered between him and his vengeance, the outlaw glided from under him.

Tiburcio now sprang up, rolled his serape around his left arm, and holding it as a shield, stood with his body inclined backward, his left leg advanced, and his right hand firmly grasping his weapon, in the att.i.tude of an ancient gladiator. He appeared for a moment as if choosing upon which of his antagonists he would first launch himself.

"You call this being quits!" cried Cuchillo, his breast still heaving from the pressure to Tiburcio's knee. "Your life belongs to me--I only lent it to you, and I shall now take it back."

"Come on, dog!" shouted Tiburcio, in answer; "and you too, Don Estevan, you cowardly a.s.sa.s.sin! you who pay for the murder of defenceless people."

The countenance of the Spaniard turned livid pale at this unexpected accusation. He instantly drew his dagger, and crying out:--"Down with him, Cuchillo!" rushed furiously forward to the attack.

No doubt Tiburcio would soon have succ.u.mbed before two such formidable antagonists, but at this moment a red light flashed upon the combatants, as Dona Rosarita, with a flaming torch in her hand, rushed forward between them.

The aspect of Tiburcio, who, despite the odds against him, and the blood that was running from his arm, still fearlessly maintained his defensive att.i.tude, caused the heart of Rosarita to beat with sympathetic admiration. This sanguinary _denouement_ to their interview, was pleading the cause of the lover far more eloquently than either his reproaches or promises!

The first impulse of Rosarita was to fling herself into the arms of the young man so daring and beautiful. She was restrained only from following this impulse, by a feeling of feminine delicacy; and for an instant Tiburcio seemed the one about whom she was least concerned.

"Oh! my G.o.d!" cried she, "are you wounded? Don Estevan? Senor Cuchillo? Senor Arechiza! retire; for the love of the Virgin, let not the world know that a crime has been committed in our house."

The excited bearing of the young girl, her bosom heaving under the light tissue of her dress, her reboso floating behind her, mingled with the long dark tresses of her dishevelled hair--all these, added to the proud savage beauty of her countenance--commanded respect; and as if by enchantment, the weapons of the combatants were restored to their sheaths.

Cuchillo growled like a dog newly muzzled, while Don Estevan preserved a sombre silence. Both walked away from the ground, and their forms were soon lost in the darkness.

Tiburcio, with face upturned, his eyes still flashing with rage, his features illuminated with the red light of the torch, remained for some moments without changing his att.i.tude. His features exhibited that superb expression that danger only magnifies into grandeur. Gradually, however, their tone became softened, and an air of melancholy succeeded it, as his eyes rested upon Rosarita. The young girl had suddenly become pale, under the reaction of such vivid emotions, as well as under the influence of the powerful sentiment now rekindled within her heart.

Acting under this influence as well, she hastily arranged her scarf in order to cover her nude shoulders, and the palpitating movements of her bosom. Even her motive for this was misunderstood by Tiburcio.

"Rosarita!" he said, speaking with perfect calmness, "I might have doubted your words, but your actions have spoken more plainly. It was to my enemies you first ran, though my blood was spilling; all your fears appeared to be for Don Estevan."

"G.o.d knows that I do not deserve this reproach," said the young girl, as with a look of terror she saw the blood streaming to the ground. At the same instant she advanced to examine the wound.

Tiburcio repulsed her by stepping backward.

"It is too late," said he with a bitter smile, "the evil is done.

Adieu! I have been too long your guest. The hospitality of your house is fatal to me. Under your roof my life has been threatened, my dearest hopes have been crushed! Adieu, Rosarita! Adieu!"

As he p.r.o.nounced the last words, he turned and walked hastily away.

There was a broken place in the wall of the enclosure, and towards this he directed his steps. A hundred paces beyond, the forest commenced, and the dark sombre trees were visible through the opening. The mysterious light he had already noticed, was still glimmering feebly above their tops.

"Where are you going, Tiburcio?" cried the young girl, her hands joined and her eyes filling with tears, "my father's roof will protect you."

Tiburcio only answered by a negative shake of the head.

"But yonder," continued Rosarita, pointing to the woods, "yonder, alone and without defence--danger--death will await you."

"G.o.d will send me friends," answered Tiburcio, glancing towards the distant light. "The hospitality of the wandering traveller--a sleep by his camp-fire--will be safer for me than that of your father's roof."

And Tiburcio continued to advance towards the breach with a gentle but resolute step.

"For the love of heaven do not expose yourself to dangers that may perhaps arise when I am no longer present to protect you! I tell you out yonder you will be risking your life;" then giving to her voice a tone of persuasive softness, she continued, "In what place, Tiburcio, will you be safer than with me?"

Tiburcio's resolution was for a moment shaken, and he paused to make answer.

"One word, Rosarita!" said he; "say that you hate my rival as I hate him--say this, and I remain."

A violent conflict appeared to arise in the breast of Rosarita. Her bosom swelled with conflicting emotions, as she fixed upon Tiburcio a glance of tender reproach, but she remained silent.

To a man of Tiburcio's age the heart of a woman is a sealed book. Not till we have lost the attractions of youth--so powerful, despite its inexperience--are we able to penetrate the mysteries of the female heart--a sad compensation which G.o.d accords to the maturity of age. At thirty years Tiburcio would have remained. But he was yet only twenty-four; he had spent his whole life in the desert, and this was his first love.

"You will not say it? Adieu, then," cried he, "I am no longer your guest," and saying this, he leaped over the broken wall, before the young girl could offer any opposition to his departure.

Stupefied by this unexpected movement, she mounted upon the fragments that lay at the bottom of the wall, and stretching her arms toward the forest, she cried out--

"Tiburcio! Tiburcio! do not leave us so; do you wish to bring upon our house the malediction of heaven?"