"Oh! my G.o.d!" she murmured, softly, "do I not visit it every evening?"

And once more bending before the image of the Virgin, Rosarita resumed her interrupted prayer.

The adventurer contemplated for some instants this enthusiastic and beautiful creature, her scarf partly concealing her figure, her nude shoulders caressed by the long tresses of her dark hair, which fell in soft rings upon their surface; then without interrupting her devotion, he rose from his seat and silently fitted the chamber.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

THE RETURN.

When Don Augustin Pena returned, he found his daughter alone, and still kneeling; he waited until her prayer was finished. The news of Don Estevan's death so entirely occupied the haciendado's mind that he naturally attributed Dona Rosarita's pious action to another motive than the true one. He believed that she was offering up to Heaven a fervent prayer for the repose of his spirit, whose mysterious end they had just been made acquainted with.

"Every day," said he, "during the following year, the Chaplain will, by my orders, say a ma.s.s for Don Estevan's soul, for this man spake of the justice of G.o.d, which was accomplished in the desert. These words are serious, and the manner with which they were p.r.o.nounced, leaves no doubt as to their veracity."

"May G.o.d pardon him!" replied Rosarita, rising from her knees, "and grant him the mercy he requires."

"May G.o.d pardon him!" repeated Don Augustin, earnestly, "the n.o.ble Don Estevan was no ordinary man, or rather, that you may now know it, Rosarita, Don Antonia de Mediana, who, in his lifetime, was Knight of the Grand Cross, and Duke de Armada."

"Mediana, did you say, my father?" cried the young girl, "what! he must then be his son?"

"Of whom do you speak?" asked Don Augustin, in astonishment, "Don Antonio was never married. What can you mean?"

"Nothing, my father, unless it be that your daughter is to-day very happy."

As she said these words, Dona Rosarita threw her arms round her father's neck, and leaning her head upon his breast burst into a pa.s.sion of tears; but in these tears there was no bitterness, they flowed softly, like the dew which the American jasmine sheds in the morning from its purple flowers.

The haciendado, but little versed in the knowledge of the female heart, misconstrued the tears, which are sometimes a luxury to women; and he could conceive nothing of the happiness which was drawing them from his daughter's eyes.

He questioned her anew, but she contented herself with answering, while her lips were parted by a smile, and her eyes were still moist.

"To-morrow I shall tell you all, my father."

The good haciendado did indeed require the explanation of this mystery, when he was left in ignorance of the chief fact concerning it.

"We have another duty to fulfil," continued he; "the last wish expressed by Don Antonio, on parting from me, was that you should be united to the Senator Tragaduros. It will be in compliance with the request of one who is now no more, that this marriage should no longer be delayed. Do you see any obstacle to it, Rosarita?"

The young girl started at these words, which reminded her of the fatal engagement she had sought to banish from memory. Her bosom swelled, and her tears flowed afresh.

"Well," said the haciendado, smiling, "this is another proof of happiness, is it not?"

"Of happiness!" repeated Rosarita, bitterly. "Oh! no, no, my father!"

Don Augustin was now more puzzled than ever; for, as he himself alleged, his life had been spent more in studying the artifices of Indians, with whom he had long disputed his domain, than in diving into the hearts of women.

"Oh, my father!" cried Rosarita, "this marriage would now prove a sentence of death to your poor child!"

At this sudden declaration, which he had not expected, Don Augustin was quite stupefied, and it was with difficulty he subdued the anger to which it had given rise.

"What!" he cried with some warmth, "did you not yourself consent to this marriage only a month ago? Did you not agree that it should be consummated when we knew that Don Estevan could not return? He is dead; what then do you wish?"

"It is true, father; I did fix that period, but--"

"Well!"

"But I did not know that he still lived."

"Don Antonio de Mediana?"

"No; Don Fabian de Mediana," replied Rosarita, in a low voice.

"Don Fabian? who is this Fabian of whom you speak?"

"He whom we called Tiburcio Arellanos."

Don Augustin remained mute with surprise: his daughter took advantage of his silence.

"When I consented to this marriage," said she, "I believed that Don Fabian was forever lost to us. I did not know that he still loved me; and yet--consider whether I do not love you, my father; consider what a grievous sacrifice I made in my affection for you--I knew well--"

As she spoke these words--her eyes moist with tears, yet shining with their own sweet l.u.s.tre--the poor girl approached, and, by a sudden impulse, threw herself upon her father's shoulder to hide her rising blushes.

"I knew then that I loved him only," she murmured.

"But of whom do you speak?"

"Of Tiburcio Arellanos--of the Count Fabian de Mediana--they are one and the same person."

"Of the Count Mediana?" repeated Don Augustin.

"Yes," cried Rosarita, pa.s.sionately; "I still love in him Tiburcio Arellanos, however n.o.ble, powerful, and rich may be at this hour Count Fabian de Mediana."

n.o.ble, powerful, and rich, are words that sound well in the ear of an ambitious father, when applied to a young man whom he loves and esteems, but whom he believes to be poor. Tiburcio Arellanos would have met with a refusal from Don Augustin--softened, it is true, by affectionate words--but had not Fabian de Mediana a better chance of success?

"Will you tell me how Tiburcio Arellanos can be Fabian de Mediana?"

asked Don Augustin, with more curiosity than anger. "Who gave you this information?"

"You were not present at the close of the stranger's narrative," replied Dona Rosarita, "or you would have heard that the young companion of the two brave hunters whose dangers he n.o.bly shared, was no other than Tiburcio Arellanos, now become the Count Fabian de Mediana. To this day I am ignorant of how, alone and wounded, he quitted the hacienda, and by what circ.u.mstances he found these unexpected protectors--or what relationship exists between Tiburcio and the Duke de Armada. But this man, who knows, will tell you."

"Let him be instantly sought," said Don Augustin, quickly; and he called an attendant to whom he gave the order.

Don Augustin awaited with the greatest impatience, the return of Gayferos; but they sought him in vain. He had disappeared. We shall presently explain the motive of his departure. Almost at the same moment in which the haciendado and his daughter were informed of it, another attendant entered to announce that Tragaduros was dismounting in the court-yard of the hacienda.

The coincidence of the Senator's return with the approaching arrival of Fabian, was one of those events in which chance, oftener than might be supposed, sports with the events of real life.

Rosarita, in order to secure an ally in her father, hastened to embrace him tenderly, and to testify her astonishment at a miracle, which had converted the adopted son of a gambusino into the heir of one of the most powerful families in Spain. After having launched this twofold dart against the Senator, the young girl vanished from the apartment, leaving her father alone.

Tragaduros entered like a man who feels that the announcement of his arrival is always welcome. His manner was that of a future kinsman, for he had obtained the father's promise and the daughter's consent, although that consent was only tacitly given. However, notwithstanding his self-satisfaction, and his confidence in the future, the Senator could not fail to remark the grave reserve of Don Augustin's manner. He thought himself at liberty to remark it.

"Don Estevan de Arechiza, the Duke of Armada, is no more," said the haciendado; "both you and I have lost a dear and n.o.ble friend."