"Thy education and mine, Mercedes—thy habits and mine—nay, thy nature and the ruder elements of mine, are not, cannot be the same. Were they so, I should not worship thee as I now do. But didst thou not exist, the certainty that I should wed Ozema would not give me happiness—but thou existing, and beloved as thou art, it would entail on me a misery that even my buoyant nature could not endure. In no case can I ever be the husband of the Indian."
Although a gleam of happiness illumined the face of Mercedes for a moment, her high principles and pure intentions soon suppressed the momentary and unbidden triumph, and, even with a reproving manner, she made her answer.
"Is this just to Ozema? Hath not her simplicity been deluded by those 'passing and truant inclinations,' and doth not honor require that thy acts now redeem the pledges that have been given by, at least, thy manner?"
"Mercedes—beloved girl, hearken to me. Thou must know that, with all my levities and backslidings, I am no coxcomb. Never hath my manner said aught that the heart did not confirm, and never hath the heart been drawn toward any but thee. In this, is the great distinction that I make between thee and all others of thy sex. Ozema's is not the only form, her's are not the only charms that may have caught a truant glance from my eyes, or extorted some unmeaning and bootless admiration, but thou, love, art enshrined here, and seemest already a part of myself. Didst thou know how often thy image hath proved a monitor stronger than conscience; on how many occasions the remembrance of thy virtues and thy affections hath prevailed, when even duty, and religion, and early lessons would have been forgotten, thou wouldst understand the difference between the love I bear thee, and what thou hast so tauntingly repeated as truant and passing inclinations."
"Luis, I ought not to listen to these alluring words, which come from a goodness of heart that would spare me present pain, only to make my misery in the end the deeper. If thou hast never felt otherwise, why was the cross that I gave thee at parting, bestowed on another?"
"Mercedes, thou know'st not the fearful circumstances under which I parted with that cross. Death was staring us in the face, and I gave it as a symbol that might aid a heathen soul in its extremity. That the gift, or rather that the thing I lent, was mistaken for a pledge of matrimony, is an unhappy misconception, that your own knowledge of Christian usages will tell you I could not foresee; otherwise I might now claim thee for my wife, in consequence of having first bestowed it on me."
"Ah! Luis; when I gave thee that cross, I did wish to be understood as plighting my faith to thee forever!"
"And when thou didst send it back to me, now within the week, how was it thy wish to be understood?"
"I sent it to thee, Luis, in a moment of reviving hope, and by the order of the queen. Her Highness is now firmly thy friend, and would fain see us united, but for the melancholy condition of Ozema, to whom all has been explained—all, as I fear, except the real state of thy feelings toward us both."
"Cruel girl! Am I, then, never to be believed—never again to be happy? I swear to thee, dearest Mercedes, that thou alone hast my whole heart—that with thee, I could be contented in a hovel, and that without thee I should be miserable on a throne. Thou wilt believe this, when thou see'st me a wretch, wandering the earth, reckless alike of hopes and objects, perhaps of character, because thou alone canst make me, and keep me the man I ought to be. Bethink thee, Mercedes, of the influence thou canst have—must have—wilt have on one of my temperament and passions. I have long looked upon thee as my guardian angel, one that can mould me to thy will, and rule me when all others fail. With thee—the impatience produced by thy doubts excepted—am I not ever tractable and gentle? Hath Doña Beatriz ever exercised a tithe of thy power over me, and hast thou ever failed to tame even my wildest and rashest humors?"