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 passed 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 passed 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.”

“carramba!” exclaims uraga, upon whose cheeks there is no blush of shame for the deception practised. “does the offer to save your life, at risk of my own—to rescue you from a felon’s death—does that deserve the harsh epithet with which you are pleased to qualify it? come, señor, you are wronging me while trifling with your own interests. i have been honest, and declared all. i love the dona adela, as you’ve known, long. what do i ask? only that she shall become my wife, and, by so doing, save the life of her brother. as your brother-in-law it will be my duty, my interest, my pleasure, to protect you.”

“that you shall never be!” firmly rejoins miranda. “no, never!” he adds, with kindling fervour, “never, on such conditions!”

“does the senorita pronounce with the same determination?” asks uraga, riveting his eyes on adela.

it is a terrible ordeal for the girl. her brother lying bound by her side, his death about to be decreed, his end near as if the executioner were standing over him—for in this light does uraga appear. called upon to save his life by promising to become the wife of this man—hideous in her eyes as the hangman himself; knowing, or believing, that if she does not, in another hour she may be gazing upon a blood-stained corpse—the dead body of her own brother! no wonder she trembles from head to foot, and hesitates to endorse the negative he has so emphatically pronounced.

don valerian notes her indecision, and, firmly as before, repeats the words,—

“no—never!” adding, “dear sister, think not of me. do not fear or falter; i shall not. i would rather die a hundred deaths than see you the wife of such a ruffian. let me die first!”

“chingara!” hisses the man thus boldly defied, using the vilest exclamation known to the spanish tongue. “then you shall die first. and, after you’re dead, she shall still be my wife, or something you may not like so well—my margarita!”

the infamous meaning conveyed by this word, well understood by miranda, causes him to start half-upright, at the same time wrenching at the rope around his wrists. the perspiration forced from him by the agony of the hour has moistened the raw-hide thong to stretching. it yields to the convulsive effort, leaving his hands released.

with a quick lurch forward he clutches at the sword dangling by uraga’s side. its hilt is in his grasp, and in an instant he has drawn the blade from its scabbard!

seeing himself thus suddenly disarmed, the lancer colonel springs back shouting loudly for help. miranda, his ankles bound, is at first unable to follow, but with the sword-blade he quickly cut the thongs, and is on his feet—free!

in another instant he is chasing uraga across the camp-ground, the latter running like a scared hound.

before he can be overtaken, the trampling of hoofs resound upon the grassy turf, and the returned lancers, with roblez and the sentry, close around the prisoner.

don valerian sees himself encircled by a chevaux de frise of lances, with cocked carbines behind. there is no chance of escape, no alternative but surrender. after that—

he does not stop to reflect. a wild thought flashes across his brain—a terrible determination. to carry it out only needs the consent of his sister. she had rushed between their horses and stands by his side, with arms outstretched to protect him.

“adela!” he says, looking intently into her eyes, “dear sister, let us die together!”

she sees the sword resolutely held in his grasp. she cannot mistake the appeal.

“yes; let us, valerian!” comes the quick response, with a look of despairing resignation, followed by the muttered speech of “mother of god, take us both to thy bosom! to thee we commit our souls!”

he raises the blade, its point towards his sister—in another moment to be buried in her bosom, and afterwards in his own!

the sacrifice is not permitted, though the soldiers have no hand in hindering it. dismayed or careless, they sit in their saddles without thought of interfering. but between their files rushes a form in whose heart is more of humanity.

the intruder is conchita—opportune to an instant.

two seconds more, and the fratricidal sword would have bereft her of a mistress and a master, both alike beloved.

both are saved by her interference; for grasping the upraised arm, she restrains it from the thrust.

roblez, close following, assists her, while several of the lancers, now dismounted, fling themselves upon miranda and disarm him.

the intending sororicide and suicide is restored to his fastenings; his sister taken back to her tent; a trooper detailed to stand sentry beside and frustrate any attempt at a second escapade.