The Last Appeal.

“I have news for you, nina.”

It is Colonel Miranda speaking to his sister, shortly after the conversation reported.

“What news, Valerian?”

“Well, there are two sorts of them.”

“Both good, I hope.”

“Not altogether; one will be pleasant to you, the other, perhaps, a little painful.”

“In that case they should neutralise one another; anyhow, let me hear them.”

“I shall tell the pleasant ones first. We shall soon have an opportunity of leaving this lonely place.”

“Do you call that good news? I rather think it the reverse. What will the bad be?”

“But, dear Adela, our life here, away from all society, has been a harsh experience—to you a terrible one.”

“In that, hermano mio, you’re mistaken. You know I don’t care a straw for what the world calls society—never did. I prefer being free from its stupid restraints and silly conventionalities. Give me Nature for my companion—ay, in her wildest scenes and most surly moods.”

“Surely you’ve had both to a surfeit.”

“Nothing of the kind; I’m not tired of Nature yet. I have never been happier than in this wilderness home. How different from my convent school—my prison, I should rather call it! Oh, it is charming! and if I were to have my way, it should never come to an end. But why do you talk of leaving this place? Do you suppose the troubles are over, and we can return safely? I don’t wish to go there, brother. After what has happened, I hate New Mexico, and would prefer staying in the Llano Estacado.”

“I have no thought of going back to New Mexico.”

“Where, then, brother?”

“In the very opposite direction—to the United States. Don Francisco advises me to do so; and I have yielded to his counsel.”

Adela seems less disposed to offer opposition. She no longer protests against the change of residence.

“Dear sister,” he continues, “we cannot do better. There seems little hope of our unfortunate country getting rid of her tyrants—at least, for some time to come. When the day again arrives for our patriots to pronounce, I shall know it in time to be with them. Now, we should only think of our safety. Although I don’t wish to alarm you, I’ve never felt it quite safe here. Who knows, but that Uraga may yet discover our hiding-place? He has his scouts searching in all directions. Every time Manuel makes a visit to the settlements, I have fear of his being followed back. Therefore, I think it will be wiser for us to carry out our original design, and go on to the American States.”

“Do you intend accompanying Don Francisco?”

She listens eagerly for an answer.

“Yes; but not now. It will be some time before he can return to us.”

“He is going home first, and will then come back?”

“Not home—not to his home.”

“Where, then?”

“That is the news I thought might be painful. He has resolved upon going on to our country for reasons already known to you. We suspect Uraga of having been at the head of the red robbers who have plundered him and killed his people. He is determined to find out and punish the perpetrators of that foul deed. It will be difficult; nay, more, there will be danger in his attempting it—I’ve told him so.”

“Dear brother, try to dissuade him!”

If Hamersley could but hear the earnest tone in which the appeal is spoken it would give him gratification.

“I have tried, but to no purpose. It is not the loss of his property—he is generous, and does not regard it. His motive is a nobler, a holier one. His comrades have been murdered; he says he will seek the assassins and obtain redress, even at the risk of sacrificing his own life.”

“A hero! Who could not help loving him?”

Adela does not say this aloud, nor to her brother. It is a thought, silent within the secret recesses of her own heart.

“If you wish,” continues the colonel, “I will see him, and again try to turn him from this reckless course; though I know there is little hope. Stay! a thought strikes me, sister.............