"Do you insist on my telling you the truth?"
"Pray do so—the entire truth."
The poor man stifled a sigh, and answered, in a voice broken by emotion—"Unless a miracle occur, you will give back your soul to your Creator at sunset."
"I thank you, my friend," the sachem said, his austere face not displaying the slightest trace of emotion. "Ask my brother to come here, for I have to talk with him. Keep back my wife and niece until I ask for them. Go, father; I will see you again before I die."
The worthy monk withdrew, choked with sobs. The interview of the two brothers was long, for Don Hernando had many faults to ask pardon for at the hands of him whose place he had taken. But Don Rodolfo, far from reproaching him, tried on the contrary to console him, by talking to him in a cheerful voice, and reminding him of the happy days of their childhood. He also thanked his brother warmly for having freed him from the heavy burden of supporting the family honour, and allowing him to live in accordance with his tastes and humour. Many other things were talked of, after which the Marquis retired, with pale brow and eyes swollen with tears, which he tried in vain to repress, that he might not sadden the last moments of the man whose great soul was revealed to him at this supreme moment—of the brother whom he had so cruelly misunderstood, and who had even sacrificed his life to insure his brother's happiness.
Doña Marianna and Doña Esperanza then returned to the dying man's room, followed by Padre Serapio, and a few moments after the Marquis came back, accompanied by Stronghand. The young man, in spite of his Indian education and affected stoicism, knelt down sobbing by his father's side. For some moments father and son talked together in a low voice; no one save God knew what words were uttered by these two men during the solemn interview.
"Come here, niece," Don Rodolfo at length said, addressing Doña Marianna.
The maiden knelt down sobbing by the hunter's side. The aged man looked for a moment tenderly at their two young faces, pale with sorrow, which were piously leaning over him; then making an effort to sit up, and supported on one side by his brother, on the other by Doña Esperanza, he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion—"Niece, answer me as you would answer God; for the dying, you know, no longer belong to this world. Do you love my son?"
"Yes, uncle," the maiden answered through her tears—"yes, I love him."
"And you, Diego, my son, do you love your cousin?"