“Adela Miranda!”
From poverty to riches, from a dungeon to bright daylight, from the agonising struggle of drowning to that confident feeling when the feet stand firm upon terra firma—all these are sensations of a pleasantly-exciting kind. They are dull in comparison with that delirious joy, the lot of the despairing lover on finding that his despair has been all a fancy, and that his passion is reciprocated.
Such a joy thrills through Hamersley’s breast as he hears the name pronounced. It is like a cabalistic speech, throwing open to him the portals of Paradise.
Chapter Forty Four.
A Mysterious Message.
As is known, Hamersley’s suspicions about the treachery of the peon are not without cause. On the contrary, they might seem second-sight. For, almost at the moment he is communicating them to Colonel Miranda, the native is telling his tale to Uraga.
Nor does the latter lose much time in acting upon the information gained—only that short interlude given to exultation as he stepped up to the portrait of Adela Miranda, and stood triumphantly regarding the likeness of her he now looks upon as sure to be his. He has no hope to get possession of her by fair means; foul are alone in his thoughts.
After delivering his half-frenzied apostrophe to the painted image, he returns to the table, beside which Roblez has already taken a seat.