The girl seemed to be collecting all her strength, before she dared tell the young man that she loved him, and that openly and passionately; then—her pure countenance shining with virgin innocence, which fears not, because it knows no ill, she turned towards Tiburcio.
“I have suffered too much,” she said, “from one mistake, to allow of any other; it is thus, then, with my hands in yours, and my eyes meeting yours, that I repeat to you what I then said. You had fled from me, Tiburcio. I knew you were far away, and I thought God alone heard me when I cried: ‘Come back, Tiburcio, come back! I love only you!’”
Fabian, trembling with love and happiness, knelt humbly at the feet of this pure young girl, as he might have done before a Madonna, who had descended from her pedestal.
At this moment he was lost to all the world,—Bois-Rose, the past, the future—all were forgotten like a dream on awaking, and he cried in a broken voice:
“Rosarita! I am yours forever! I dedicate my future life to you only.”
Rosarita uttered a faint cry. Fabian turned, and remained mute with astonishment.
Leaning quietly upon his long carbine, stood Bois-Rose, a few paces from them, contemplating, with a look of deep tenderness the two lovers.
It was the realisation of his dream in the isle of Rio Gila.
“Oh, my father!” cried Fabian sadly; “do you forgive me for suffering myself to be vanquished?”
“Who would not have been, in your place, my beloved Fabian?” said the Canadian, smiling.