“I can.”
“You will? You will?”
“I will!”
The emphasis with which these two words are pronounced brings a flush of gratefulness over her face, and she makes a forward movement as if to thank him by a pressure of the hand. She might have given it but for the cast upon his features, telling his consent not yet obtained, nor his speech finished. There is more to come—two other words. They are—
“Upon conditions!”
They check her bursting gratitude. Conditions! She knows not what they may be. But she knows the character of Gil Uraga, and can predict they will be hard.
“Name them!” she demands. “If it be money, I’m ready to give it. Though my brother’s property is taken from him, as we’ve heard, not so mine. I have wealth—houses, lands. Take all, but save Valerian’s life.”
“You can save it without expending a single claco; only by giving a grace.”
“What mean you, señor?”
“To explain my meaning I’ll repeat what I’ve said. Your brother’s head is forfeit. It can be saved by a hand.”