“She is better. I have had the rancho restored. They have returned to it, and the old scenes seem to have worked a miracle upon her. Her senses came at once, and relapse only at long intervals. I have hopes it will be all well again.”
“I am glad to hear this. Poor child! she must have suffered sadly in the hands of these rude savages.”
“Rude savages! Ay, Catalina, you have styled them appropriately, though you little know of whom you are speaking.”
“Of whom?” echoed the lady, in surprise. Up to this moment even she had no other than the popular and universal belief that Carlos’ sister had been a captive in the hands of the Indians!
“It was partly for this that I have sought an interview to-night. I could not exist without explaining to you my late conduct, which must have appeared to you a mystery. It shall be so no longer. Hear me, Catalina!”
Carlos revealed the horrid plot, detailing every circumstance, to the utter astonishment of his fair companion.
“Oh! fiends! fiends!” she exclaimed; “who could have imagined such atrocity? Who would suppose that on the earth were wretches like these? But that you, dear Carlos, have told me, I could not have believed in such villainy! I knew that both were bad; I have heard many a tale of the vileness of these two men; but this is wickedness beyond the power of fancy! Santisima Madre! what men! what monsters! It is incredible!”
“You know now with what justice I am called a murderer?”
“Oh, dear Carlos! think not of that. I never gave it a thought. I knew you had some cause just and good. Fear not! The world shall yet know all—”
“The world!” interrupted Carlos, with a sneer. “For me there is no world. I have no home. Even among those with whom I have been brought up, I have been but a stranger—a heretic outcast. Now I am worse—a hunted outlaw with a price upon my head, and a good large one too. In truth, I never thought I was worth so much before!” Here a laugh escaped from the speaker; but his merriment was of short duration. He continued—