Carmela pensively leant her blushing brow on the Canadian's shoulder, and lifted to him her large blue eyes full of tears.
"I am suffering, father," she murmured sadly.
"Good Heavens! My child, you are suffering, and did not tell me—are you ill?" he exclaimed anxiously; "How imprudent it was of you to be out in the desert by night."
"You are mistaken, father," she replied with a faint smile; "I am not ill, it is not that."
"What is it then?"
"I do not know, but my heart is contracted, my bosom is oppressed. Oh, I am very unhappy!"
And hiding her head in her hands, she burst into tears. Tranquil looked at her for a moment with an astonishment mingled with terror.
"You, unhappy!" he at length exclaimed as he smote his head passionately. "Oh, whatever has been done to her, that she should weep thus!"
There was a silence of some minutes' duration, when the conversation seemed to take a confidential turn. Loyal Heart and Lanzi rose quietly, and soon disappeared in the chaparral. Tranquil and the maiden were hence alone. The hunter was suffering from one of those cold fits of passion which are so terrible because so concentrated; adoring the girl, he fancied in his simple ignorance that it was he who, without suspecting it, through the coarseness and frivolity of his manner, rendered her unhappy, and he accused himself in his heart for not having secured her that calm and pleasant life he had dreamed for her.
"Forgive me, my child," he said to her with emotion; "forgive me for being the involuntary cause of your suffering. You must not be angry with me, for really it is no fault of mine, I have always lived alone in the desert, and never learned how to treat natures so frail as those of women; but henceforth I will watch myself. You will have no reason to reproach me again. I promise you I will do all you wish, my darling child—well, does that satisfy you?"