"I begin to comprehend, señorita."
"The last time we met, my father received you coldly,—you, my betrothed. Mad with jealousy, furious with him and myself, believing our marriage broken off, you rushed from us, and left the hacienda with rage and hatred boiling in your breast."
"Cousin, I swear to you?"
"I am a woman, Don Torribio; and we women possess an instinct which never deceives us. Can you think for a moment that I, on the verge of marriage with you, did not know the love you felt for me?"
Don Torribio gazed at her with an indefinable expression.
"A few days later," she continued, "Don Fernando Carril fell into an ambush, and was left for dead on the spot. Why did you do this, Don Torribio?"
"I will not attempt to deny, señorita, that I wished to avenge myself on one I considered a rival; but I swear I gave no orders to kill him."
"I know it!" she replied; "You need not attempt to exculpate yourself."
Don Torribio looked at her without understanding her words.
"The man whom you imagined to be your rival was no favoured suitor," she continued, with a sweet smile. "You had scarcely left the hacienda, before I confessed to my father that you were my only love, and that I would never consent to marry another."