“I have tried, but to no purpose. It is not the loss of his property—he is generous, and does not regard it. His motive is a nobler, a holier one. His comrades have been murdered; he says he will seek the assassins and obtain redress, even at the risk of sacrificing his own life.”
“A hero! Who could not help loving him?”
Adela does not say this aloud, nor to her brother. It is a thought, silent within the secret recesses of her own heart.
“If you wish,” continues the colonel, “I will see him, and again try to turn him from this reckless course; though I know there is little hope. Stay! a thought strikes me, sister. Suppose you speak to him. A woman’s words are more likely to be listened to; and I know that yours will have great weight with him. He looks upon you as the saviour of his life, and may yield to your request.”
“If you think so, Valerian—”
“I do. I see him coming this way. Remain where you are. I shall send him in to you.”
With a heart heaving and surging, Hamersley stands in the presence of her, the sole cause of its tumultuous excitement. For he has been summoned thither in a manner that somewhat surprises him. “Don Francisco, my sister wishes a word with you,” is the speech of Colonel Miranda, an invitation promptly responded to.
What is to be the import of his interview, unexpected, unsought, apparently commanded?
He asks himself this question as he proceeds towards the place where she stands waiting to receive him. Coming up to her, he says,—
“Senorita, your brother has told me you wish to speak with me?”