I pressed forward to embrace my brave son, but saw him not. I called him by name, but a faint groan was the only reply I received. I turned in the direction of the sound, and found the Frenchman’s horse, struggling in the agonies of death, upon the bleeding body of my Alonzo. He had been wounded in the breast by the Frenchman’s pistol, the trigger of which had, apparently, been pressed in the convulsive movement occasioned by his death-wound. The horse had been shot by one of our men, had fallen upon Alonzo, and broken several of his ribs. We conveyed him to the house, without a hope of his recovery.
In the excess of my grief, I thought not of sending after the women. Alonzo was the first to bring me to a sense of my remissness, by enquiring for his wife and child. I expressed my joy at hearing him speak, for he had lain many hours speechless. He pressed my hand, and added, “Father, I wish to see them once again before I die—to have a mother’s blessing also—for I feel my end approaching.”
I instantly despatched four of my people to the Casa de Castañas to escort them back, for I recollected that the three Frenchmen who had been sent forward to demand admission to the house, had effected their escape, and must be, wandering about the mountains.
The sun had risen some hours, and yet no tidings reached us of them. I began to feel very uneasy. A terrible presentiment disturbed me. I went to the iron cross that stands on the mound in front of our house, whence a view is obtained of the pass leading to Las Navas. I heard a wild scream, that pierced my very soul, and the moment after, caught a glimpse of a female figure, hastening with mad speed down the rocky path leading to the Casería. It was my daughter-in-law, Teresa!
“See,” she exclaimed, with frantic exultation, showing me her hands stained with blood, “see—I killed him! my knife pierced the heart of the murderer of my child! I killed the vile Frenchman! The wife of a De Castro ever carries a knife to avenge her wrongs—to defend her honour!”
That some terrible catastrophe had happened was too evident, but from the unhappy maniac it was impossible to gather any thing definite.
I mounted my horse, and rode with the speed of desperation towards the Casa de Castañas, but had not proceeded far ere I met my people returning, bearing my wife on a litter, and accompanied by two only of the women who had accompanied her, mounted on borricos.
“Dead?” I asked. It was the only word I could utter.
“No, Luis,” replied one of my faithful followers, “not dead, and, we hope, not even seriously hurt; but evil has befallen your house—your three young children and your grandson are lost to you for ever.”
“Lost! murdered? This is, indeed, a heavy blow, a severe trial. Perhaps I am now childless;—God’s will be done.”