Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth

by Charles Kingsley

  CHAPTER XII

  HOW BIDEFORD BRIDGE DINED AT ANNERY HOUSE

  "Three lords sat drinking late yestreen, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing"--Scotch Ballad.

  Every one who knows Bideford cannot but know Bideford bridge; for it isthe very omphalos, cynosure, and soul, around which the town, as a body,has organized itself; and as Edinburgh is Edinburgh by virtue of itscastle, Rome Rome by virtue of its capitol, and Egypt Egypt by virtue ofits pyramids, so is Bideford Bideford by virtue of its bridge. But alldo not know the occult powers which have advanced and animated thesaid wondrous bridge for now five hundred years, and made it the chiefwonder, according to Prince and Fuller, of this fair land of Devon:being first an inspired bridge, a soul-saving bridge, an alms-givingbridge, an educational bridge, a sentient bridge, and last, but notleast, a dinner-giving bridge. All do not know how, when it began tobe built some half mile higher up, hands invisible carried the stonesdown-stream each night to the present site; until Sir Richard Gurney,parson of the parish, going to bed one night in sore perplexity and fearof the evil spirit who seemed so busy in his sheepfold, beheld a visionof an angel, who bade build the bridge where he himself had so kindlytransported the materials; for there alone was sure foundation amid thebroad sheet of shifting sand. All do not know how Bishop Grandison ofExeter proclaimed throughout his diocese indulgences, benedictions, and"participation in all spiritual blessings for ever," to all who wouldpromote the bridging of that dangerous ford; and so, consulting alikethe interests of their souls and of their bodies, "make the best of bothworlds."

  All do not know, nor do I, that "though the foundation of the bridgeis laid upon wool, yet it shakes at the slightest step of a horse;" orthat, "though it has twenty-three arches, yet one Wm. Alford (anotherMilo) carried on his back for a wager four bushels salt-water measure,all the length thereof;" or that the bridge is a veritable esquire,bearing arms of its own (a ship and bridge proper on a plain field),and owning lands and tenements in many parishes, with which the saidmiraculous bridge has, from time to time, founded charities, builtschools, waged suits at law, and finally (for this concerns us most)given yearly dinners, and kept for that purpose (luxurious and liquorishbridge that it was) the best stocked cellar of wines in all Devon.

  To one of these dinners, as it happened, were invited in the year 1583all the notabilities of Bideford, and beside them Mr. St. Legerof Annery close by, brother of the marshal of Munster, and of LadyGrenville; a most worthy and hospitable gentleman, who, finding richesa snare, parted with them so freely to all his neighbors as long as helived, that he effectually prevented his children after him from fallinginto the temptations thereunto incident.

  Between him and one of the bridge trustees arose an argument, whethera salmon caught below the bridge was better or worse than one caughtabove; and as that weighty question could only be decided by practicalexperiment, Mr. St. Leger vowed that as the bridge had given him a gooddinner, he would give the bridge one; offered a bet of five pounds thathe would find them, out of the pool below Annery, as firm and flaky asalmon as the Appledore one which they had just eaten; and then, in thefulness of his heart, invited the whole company present to dine with himat Annery three days after, and bring with them each a wife or daughter;and Don Guzman being at table, he was invited too.

  So there was a mighty feast in the great hall at Annery, such as hadseldom been since Judge Hankford feasted Edward the Fourth there; andwhile every one was eating their best and drinking their worst, RoseSalterne and Don Guzman were pretending not to see each other, andwatching each other all the more. But Rose, at least, had to be verycareful of her glances; for not only was her father at the table, butjust opposite her sat none other than Messrs. William Cary and ArthurSt. Leger, lieutenants in her majesty's Irish army, who had returned onfurlough a few days before.

  Rose Salterne and the Spaniard had not exchanged a word in the last sixmonths, though they had met many times. The Spaniard by no means avoidedher company, except in her father's house; he only took care to obeyher carefully, by seeming always unconscious of her presence, beyond thestateliest of salutes at entering and departing. But he took care, atthe same time, to lay himself out to the very best advantage wheneverhe was in her presence; to be more witty, more eloquent, more romantic,more full of wonderful tales than he ever yet had been. The cunningDon had found himself foiled in his first tactic; and he was nowtrying another, and a far more formidable one. In the first place, Rosedeserved a very severe punishment, for having dared to refuse the loveof a Spanish nobleman; and what greater punishment could he inflict thanwithdrawing the honor of his attentions, and the sunshine of his smiles?There was conceit enough in that notion, but there was cunning too;for none knew better than the Spaniard, that women, like the world, arepretty sure to value a man (especially if there be any real worth inhim) at his own price; and that the more he demands for himself, themore they will give for him.

  And now he would put a high price on himself, and pique her pride, asshe was too much accustomed to worship, to be won by flattering it. Hemight have done that by paying attention to some one else: but he wastoo wise to employ so coarse a method, which might raise indignation, ordisgust, or despair in Rose's heart, but would have never brought her tohis feet--as it will never bring any woman worth bringing. So he quietlyand unobtrusively showed her that he could do without her; and she, poorfool, as she was meant to do, began forthwith to ask herself--why? Whatwas the hidden treasure, what was the reserve force, which made himindependent of her, while she could not say that she was independent ofhim? Had he a secret? how pleasant to know it! Some huge ambition? howpleasant to share in it! Some mysterious knowledge? how pleasant tolearn it! Some capacity of love beyond the common? how delicious to haveit all for her own! He must be greater, wiser, richer-hearted than shewas, as well as better-born. Ah, if his wealth would but supply herpoverty! And so, step by step, she was being led to sue in formapauperis to the very man whom she had spurned when he sued in like formto her. That temptation of having some mysterious private treasure, ofbeing the priestess of some hidden sanctuary, and being able to thankHeaven that she was not as other women are, was becoming fast too muchfor Rose, as it is too much for most. For none knew better than theSpaniard how much more fond women are, by the very law of their sex,of worshipping than of being worshipped, and of obeying than of beingobeyed; how their coyness, often their scorn, is but a mask to hidetheir consciousness of weakness; and a mask, too, of which theythemselves will often be the first to tire.

  And Rose was utterly tired of that same mask as she sat at table atAnnery that day; and Don Guzman saw it in her uneasy and downcast looks,and thinking (conceited coxcomb) that she must be by now sufficientlypunished, stole a glance at her now and then, and was not abashed whenhe saw that she dropped her eyes when they met his, because he saw hersilence and abstraction increase, and something like a blush steal intoher cheeks. So he pretended to be as much downcast and abstracted as shewas, and went on with his glances, till he once found her, poor thing,looking at him to see if he was looking at her; and then he knew hisprey was safe, and asked her, with his eyes, "Do you forgive me?" andsaw her stop dead in her talk to her next neighbor, and falter, and dropher eyes, and raise them again after a minute in search of his, thathe might repeat the pleasant question. And then what could she do butanswer with all her face and every bend of her pretty neck, "And do youforgive me in turn?"

  Whereon Don Guzman broke out jubilant, like nightingale on bough, withstory, and jest, and repartee; and became forthwith the soul of thewhole company, and the most charming of all cavaliers. And poor Roseknew that she was the cause of his sudden change of mood, and blamedherself for what she had done, and shuddered and blushed at her owndelight, and longed that the feast was over, that she might hurry homeand hide herself alone with sweet fancies about a love the reality ofwhich she felt she dared not face.

  It was a beautiful sight, the grea
t terrace at Annery that afternoon;with the smart dames in their gaudy dresses parading up and down in twosand threes before the stately house; or looking down upon the park, withthe old oaks, and the deer, and the broad land-locked river spread outlike a lake beneath, all bright in the glare of the midsummer sun; orlistening obsequiously to the two great ladies who did the honors, Mrs.St. Leger the hostess, and her sister-in-law, fair Lady Grenville. Allchatted, and laughed, and eyed each other's dresses, and gossiped abouteach other's husbands and servants: only Rose Salterne kept apart, andlonged to get into a corner and laugh or cry, she knew not which.

  "Our pretty Rose seems sad," said Lady Grenville, coming up to her."Cheer up, child! we want you to come and sing to us."

  Rose answered she knew not what, and obeyed mechanically.

  She took the lute, and sat down on a bench beneath the house, while therest grouped themselves round her.

  "What shall I sing?"

  "Let us have your old song, 'Earl Haldan's Daughter.'"

  Rose shrank from it. It was a loud and dashing ballad, which chimed inbut little with her thoughts; and Frank had praised it too, in happierdays long since gone by. She thought of him, and of others, and of herpride and carelessness; and the song seemed ominous to her: and yet forthat very reason she dared not refuse to sing it, for fear of suspicionwhere no one suspected; and so she began per force--

  I.

  "It was Earl Haldan's daughter, She look'd across the sea; She look'dacross the water, And long and loud laugh'd she; 'The locks of sixprincesses Must be my marriage-fee, So hey bonny boat, and ho bonnyboat! Who comes a wooing me?'

  II.

  "It was Earl Haldan's daughter, She walk'd along the sand; When she wasaware of a knight so fair, Come sailing to the land. His sails were allof velvet, His mast of beaten gold, And 'hey bonny boat, and ho bonnyboat, Who saileth here so bold?'

  III.

  "'The locks of five princesses I won beyond the sea; I shore theirgolden tresses, To fringe a cloak for thee. One handful yet is wanting,But one of all the tale; So hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat! Furl upthy velvet sail!'

  IV.

  "He leapt into the water, That rover young and bold; He gript EarlHaldan's daughter, He shore her locks of gold; 'Go weep, go weep, proudmaiden, The tale is full to-day. Now hey bonny boat, and ho bonny boat!Sail Westward-ho, and away!'"

  As she ceased, a measured voice, with a foreign accent, thrilled throughher.

  "In the East, they say the nightingale sings to the rose; Devon, morehappy, has nightingale and rose in one."

  "We have no nightingales in Devon, Don Guzman," said Lady Grenville;"but our little forest thrushes sing, as you hear, sweetly enough tocontent any ear. But what brings you away from the gentlemen so early?"

  "These letters," said he, "which have just been put into my hand; andas they call me home to Spain, I was loath to lose a moment of thatdelightful company from which I must part so soon."

  "To Spain?" asked half-a-dozen voices: for the Don was a generalfavorite.

  "Yes, and thence to the Indies. My ransom has arrived, and with itthe promise of an office. I am to be Governor of La Guayra in Caracas.Congratulate me on my promotion."

  A mist was over Rose's eyes. The Spaniard's voice was hard and flippant.Did he care for her, after all? And if he did, was it neverthelesshopeless? How her cheeks glowed! Everybody must see it! Anything to turnaway their attention from her, and in that nervous haste which makespeople speak, and speak foolishly too, just because they ought to besilent, she asked--

  "And where is La Guayra?"

  "Half round the world, on the coast of the Spanish Main. The loveliestplace on earth, and the loveliest governor's house, in a forest of palmsat the foot of a mountain eight thousand feet high: I shall only want awife there to be in paradise."

  "I don't doubt that you may persuade some fair lady of Seville toaccompany you thither," said Lady Grenville.

  "Thanks, gracious madam: but the truth is, that since I have had thebliss of knowing English ladies, I have begun to think that they are theonly ones on earth worth wooing."

  "A thousand thanks for the compliment; but I fear none of our freeEnglish maidens would like to submit to the guardianship of a duenna.Eh, Rose? how should you like to be kept under lock and key all day byan ugly old woman with a horn on her forehead?"

  Poor Rose turned so scarlet that Lady Grenville knew her secret on thespot, and would have tried to turn the conversation: but before shecould speak, some burgher's wife blundered out a commonplace aboutthe jealousy of Spanish husbands; and another, to make matters better,giggled out something more true than delicate about West Indian mastersand fair slaves.

  "Ladies," said Don Guzman, reddening, "believe me that these are but thecalumnies of ignorance. If we be more jealous than other nations, it isbecause we love more passionately. If some of us abroad are profligate,it is because they, poor men, have no helpmate, which, like theamethyst, keeps its wearer pure. I could tell you stories, ladies, ofthe constancy and devotion of Spanish husbands, even in the Indies, asstrange as ever romancer invented."

  "Can you? Then we challenge you to give us one at least."

  "I fear it would be too long, madam."

  "The longer the more pleasant, senor. How can we spend an hour betterthis afternoon, while the gentlemen within are finishing their wine?"

  Story-telling, in those old times, when books (and authors also, luckyfor the public) were rarer than now, was a common amusement; and as theSpaniard's accomplishments in that line were well known, all the ladiescrowded round him; the servants brought chairs and benches; and DonGuzman, taking his seat in the midst, with a proud humility, at LadyGrenville's feet, began--

  "Your perfections, fair and illustrious ladies, must doubtless haveheard, ere now, how Sebastian Cabota, some forty-five years ago, sailedforth with a commission from my late master, the Emperor Charles theFifth, to discover the golden lands of Tarshish, Ophir, and Cipango; butbeing in want of provisions, stopped short at the mouth of that mightySouth American river to which he gave the name of Rio de la Plata, andsailing up it, discovered the fair land of Paraguay. But you may nothave heard how, on the bank of that river, at the mouth of the RioTerceiro, he built a fort which men still call Cabot's Tower; nor haveyou, perhaps, heard of the strange tale which will ever make the tower asacred spot to all true lovers.

  "For when he returned to Spain the year after, he left in his tower agarrison of a hundred and twenty men, under the command of Nuno de Lara,Ruiz Moschera, and Sebastian da Hurtado, old friends and fellow-soldiersof my invincible grandfather Don Ferdinando da Soto; and with thema jewel, than which Spain never possessed one more precious, LuciaMiranda, the wife of Hurtado, who, famed in the court of the emperorno less for her wisdom and modesty than for her unrivalled beauty,had thrown up all the pomp and ambition of a palace, to marry a pooradventurer, and to encounter with him the hardships of a voyage roundthe world. Mangora, the cacique of the neighboring Timbuez Indians (withwhom Lara had contrived to establish a friendship), cast his eyes onthis fair creature, and no sooner saw than he coveted; no sooner covetedthan he plotted, with the devilish subtilty of a savage, to seize byforce what he knew he could never gain by right. She soon found out hispassion (she was wise enough--what every woman is not--to know when sheis loved), and telling her husband, kept as much as she could out of hernew lover's sight; while the savage pressed Hurtado to come and visithim, and to bring his lady with him. Hurtado, suspecting the snare, andyet fearing to offend the cacique, excused himself courteously onthe score of his soldier's duty; and the savage, mad with desire anddisappointment, began plotting against Hurtado's life.

  "So went on several weeks, till food grew scarce, and Don Hurtado andDon Ruiz Moschera, with fifty soldiers, were sent up the river on aforaging party. Mangora saw his opportunity, and leapt at it forthwith.

  "The tower, ladies, as I have heard from those who have seen it, standson a knoll at the meeting of the two rivers, while on the land s
idestretches a dreary marsh, covered with tall grass and bushes; a fitplace for the ambuscade of four thousand Indians, which Mangora, withdevilish cunning, placed around the tower, while he himself went boldlyup to it, followed by thirty men, laden with grain, fruit, game, and allthe delicacies which his forests could afford.

  "There, with a smiling face, he told the unsuspecting Lara his sorrowfor the Spaniards' want of food; besought him to accept the provision hehad brought, and was, as he had expected, invited by Lara to come in andtaste the wines of Spain.

  "In went he and his thirty fellow-bandits, and the feast continued,with songs and libations, far into the night, while Mangora often lookedround, and at last boldly asked for the fair Miranda: but she had shutherself into her lodging, pleading illness.

  "A plea, fair ladies, which little availed that hapless dame, for nosooner had the Spaniards retired to rest, leaving (by I know not whatmadness) Mangora and his Indians within, than they were awakened by thecry of fire, the explosion of their magazine, and the inward rush of thefour thousand from the marsh outside.

  "Why pain your gentle ears with details of slaughter? A few fearfulminutes sufficed to exterminate my bewildered and unarmed countrymen, tobind the only survivors, Miranda (innocent cause of the whole tragedy)and four other women with their infants, and to lead them away intriumph across the forest towards the Indian town.

  "Stunned by the suddenness of the evils which had passed, and stillmore by the thought of those worse which were to come (as she toowell foresaw), Miranda travelled all night through the forest, and wasbrought in triumph at day-dawn before the Indian king to receive herdoom. Judge of her astonishment, when, on looking up, she saw that hewas not Mangora.

  "A ray of hope flashed across her, and she asked where he was.

  "'He was slain last night,' said the king; 'and I, his brother Siripa,am now cacique of the Timbuez.'

  "It was true; Lara, maddened with drink, rage, and wounds, had caught uphis sword, rushed into the thick of the fight, singled out the traitor,and slain him on the spot; and then, forgetting safety in revenge, hadcontinued to plunge his sword into the corpse, heedless of the blows ofthe savages, till he fell pierced with a hundred wounds.

  "A ray of hope, as I said, flashed across the wretched Miranda for amoment; but the next she found that she had been freed from one banditonly to be delivered to another.

  "'Yes,' said the new king, in broken Spanish; 'my brother played a boldstake, and lost it; but it was well worth the risk, and he showed hiswisdom thereby. You cannot be his queen now: you must content yourselfwith being mine.'

  "Miranda, desperate, answered him with every fierce taunt which shecould invent against his treachery and his crime; and asked him, how hecame to dream that the wife of a Christian Spaniard would condescendto become the mistress of a heathen savage; hoping, unhappy lady, toexasperate him into killing her on the spot. But in vain; she onlyprolonged thereby her own misery. For, whether it was, ladies, that thenovel sight of divine virtue and beauty awed (as it may have awed me erenow), where it had just before maddened; or whether some dream crossedthe savage (as it may have crossed me ere now), that he could make thewisdom of a mortal angel help his ambition, as well as her beauty hishappiness; or whether (which I will never believe of one of those darkchildren of the devil, though I can boldly assert it of myself) somespark of boldness within him made him too proud to take by force whathe could not win by persuasion, certain it is, as the Indians themselvesconfessed afterwards, that the savage only answered her by smiles; andbidding his men unbind her, told her that she was no slave of his, andthat it only lay with her to become the sovereign of him and allhis vassals; assigned her a hut to herself, loaded her with savageornaments, and for several weeks treated her with no less courtesy(so miraculous is the power of love) than if he had been a cavalier ofCastile.

  "Three months and more, ladies, as I have heard, passed in this misery,and every day Miranda grew more desperate of all deliverance, and sawstaring her in the face, nearer and nearer, some hideous and shamefulend; when one day going down with the wives of the cacique to draw waterin the river, she saw on the opposite bank a white man in a tatteredSpanish dress, with a drawn sword in his hand; who had no sooner espiedher, than shrieking her name, he plunged into the stream, swam across,landed at her feet, and clasped her in his arms. It was no other,ladies, incredible as it may seem, than Don Sebastian himself, who hadreturned with Ruiz Moschera to the tower, and found it only a charredand bloodstained heap of ruins.

  "He guessed, as by inspiration, what had passed, and whither his ladywas gone; and without a thought of danger, like a true Spanish gentlemanand a true Spanish lover, darted off alone into the forest, andguided only by the inspiration of his own loyal heart, found again histreasure, and found it still unstained and his own.

  "Who can describe the joy, and who again the terror, of their meeting?The Indian women had fled in fear, and for the short ten minutes thatthe lovers were left together, life, to be sure, was one long kiss.But what to do they knew not. To go inland was to rush into the enemy'sarms. He would have swum with her across the river, and attempted it;but his strength, worn out with hunger and travel, failed him; he drewher with difficulty on shore again, and sat down by her to await theirdoom with prayer, the first and last resource of virtuous ladies, asweapons are of cavaliers.

  "Alas for them! May no true lovers ever have to weep over joys so soonlost, after having been so hardly found! For, ere a quarter of an hourwas passed, the Indian women, who had fled at his approach, returnedwith all the warriors of the tribe. Don Sebastian, desperate, wouldfain have slain his wife and himself on the spot; but his hand sankagain--and whose would not but an Indian's?--as he raised it againstthat fair and faithful breast; in a few minutes he was surrounded,seized from behind, disarmed, and carried in triumph into the village.And if you cannot feel for him in that misery, fair ladies, who haveknown no sorrow, yet I, a prisoner, can."

  Don Guzman paused a moment, as if overcome by emotion; and I will notsay that, as he paused, he did not look to see if Rose Salterne's eyeswere on him, as indeed they were.

  "Yes, I can feel with him; I can estimate, better than you, ladies, thegreatness of that love which could submit to captivity; to the loss ofhis sword; to the loss of that honor, which, next to god and his mother,is the true Spaniard's deity. There are those who have suffered thatshame at the hands of valiant gentlemen" (and again Don Guzman lookedup at Rose), "and yet would have sooner died a thousand deaths; but hedared to endure it from the hands of villains, savages, heathens; for hewas a true Spaniard, and therefore a true lover: but I will go on withmy tale.

  "This wretched pair, then, as I have been told by Ruiz Moschera himself,stood together before the cacique. He, like a true child of the devil,comprehending in a moment who Don Sebastian was, laughed with delight atseeing his rival in his power, and bade bind him at once to a tree, andshoot him to death with arrows.

  "But the poor Miranda sprang forward, and threw herself at his feet, andwith piteous entreaties besought for mercy from him who knew no mercy.

  "And yet love and the sight of her beauty, and the terrible eloquence ofher words, while she invoked on his head the just vengeance of Heaven,wrought even on his heart: nevertheless the pleasure of seeing her, whohad so long scorned him, a suppliant at his feet, was too delicate tobe speedily foregone; and not till she was all but blind with tears,and dumb with agony of pleading, did he make answer, that if she wouldconsent to become his wife, her husband's life should be spared. She, inher haste and madness, sobbed out desperately I know not what consent.Don Sebastian, who understood, if not the language, still the meaning(so had love quickened his understanding), shrieked to her not to loseher precious soul for the sake of his worthless body; that death wasnothing compared to the horror of that shame; and such other words asbecame a noble and valiant gentleman. She, shuddering now at her ownfrailty, would have recalled her promise; but Siripa kept her to it,vowing, if she disappointed him again, such
a death to her husband asmade her blood run cold to hear of; and the wretched woman could onlyescape for the present by some story, that it was not the custom of herrace to celebrate nuptials till a month after the betrothment; that theanger of Heaven would be on her, unless she first performed in solitudecertain religious rites; and lastly, that if he dared to lay handson her husband, she would die so resolutely, that every drop of watershould be deep enough to drown her, every thorn sharp enough to stabher to the heart: till fearing lest by demanding too much he should loseall, and awed too, as he had been at first by a voice and looks whichseemed to be, in comparison with his own, divine, Siripa bade her goback to her hut, promising her husband life; but promising too, thatif he ever found the two speaking together, even for a moment, he wouldpour out on them both all the cruelty of those tortures in which thedevil, their father, has so perfectly instructed the Indians.

  "So Don Sebastian, being stripped of his garments, and painted afterthe Indian fashion, was set to all mean and toilsome work, amid thebuffetings and insults of the whole village. And this, ladies, heendured without a murmur, ay, took delight in enduring it, as he wouldhave endured things worse a thousand times, only for the sake, like atrue lover as he was, of being near the goddess whom he worshipped, andof seeing her now and then afar off, happy enough to be repaid even bythat for all indignities.

  "And yet, you who have loved may well guess, as I can, that ere a weekhad passed, Don Sebastian and the Lady Miranda had found means, in spiteof all spiteful eyes, to speak to each other once and again; and toassure each other of their love; even to talk of escape, before themonth's grace should be expired. And Miranda, whose heart was full ofcourage as long as she felt her husband near her, went so far as to plana means of escape which seemed possible and hopeful.

  "For the youngest wife of the cacique, who, till Miranda's coming,had been his favorite, often talked with the captive, insulting andtormenting her in her spite and jealousy, and receiving in return onlygentle and conciliatory words. And one day when the woman had beenthreatening to kill her, Miranda took courage to say, 'Do you fancy thatI shall not be as glad to be rid of your husband, as you to be rid ofme? Why kill me needlessly, when all that you require is to get me forthof the place? Out of sight, out of mind. When I am gone, your husbandwill soon forget me, and you will be his favorite as before.' Soon,seeing that the girl was inclined to listen, she went on to tell herof her love to Don Sebastian, entreating and adjuring her, by the lovewhich she bore the cacique, to pity and help her; and so won upon thegirl, that she consented to be privy to Miranda's escape, and evenoffered to give her an opportunity of speaking to her husband about it;and at last was so won over by Miranda, that she consented to keep allintruders out of the way, while Don Sebastian that very night visitedMiranda in her hut.

  "The hapless husband, thirsting for his love, was in that hut, be sure,the moment that kind darkness covered his steps:--and what cheer thesetwo made of each other, when they once found themselves together,lovers must fancy for themselves: but so it was, that after many aleave-taking, there was no departure; and when the night was well-nighpast, Sebastian and Miranda were still talking together as if they hadnever met before, and would never meet again.

  "But it befell, ladies (would that I was not speaking truth, butinventing, that I might have invented something merrier for your ears),it befell that very night, that the young wife of the cacique, whoseheart was lifted up with the thought that her rival was now at lastdisposed of, tried all her wiles to win back her faithless husband;but in vain. He only answered her caresses by indifference, then bycontempt, then insults, then blows (for with the Indians, woman isalways a slave, or rather a beast of burden), and went on to draw suchcruel comparisons between her dark skin and the glorious fairness of theSpanish lady, that the wretched girl, beside herself with rage, burstout at last with her own secret. 'Fool that you are to madden yourselfabout a stranger who prizes one hair of her Spanish husband's head morethan your whole body! Much does your new bride care for you! She is atthis moment in her husband's arms!'

  "The cacique screamed furiously to know what she meant; and she, herjealousy and hate of the guiltless lady boiling over once for all, badehim, if he doubted her, go see for himself.

  "What use of many words? They were taken. Love, or rather lust,repelled, turned in a moment into devilish hate; and the cacique,summoning his Indians, bade them bind the wretched Don Sebastian to atree, and there inflicted on him the lingering death to which he had atfirst been doomed. For Miranda he had more exquisite cruelty in store.And shall I tell it? Yes, ladies, for the honor of love and of Spain,and for a justification of those cruelties against the Indians which areso falsely imputed to our most Christian nation, it shall be told: hedelivered the wretched lady over to the tender mercies of his wives; andwhat they were is neither fit for me to tell, nor you to hear.

  "The two wretched lovers cast themselves upon each other's neck; drankeach other's salt tears with the last kisses; accused themselves asthe cause of each other's death; and then, rising above fear and grief,broke out into triumph at thus dying for and with each other; andproclaiming themselves the martyrs of love, commended their souls toGod, and then stepped joyfully and proudly to their doom."

  "And what was that?" asked half-a-dozen trembling voices.

  "Don Sebastian, as I have said, was shot to death with arrows; but asfor the Lady Miranda, the wretches themselves confessed afterwards, whenthey received due vengeance for their crimes (as they did receive it),that after all shameful and horrible indignities, she was bound toa tree, and there burned slowly in her husband's sight, stifling hershrieks lest they should wring his heart by one additional pang, andnever taking her eyes, to the last, off that beloved face. And so died(but not unavenged) Sebastian de Hurtado and Lucia Miranda,--a Spanishhusband and a Spanish wife."

  The Don paused, and the ladies were silent awhile, for, indeed, therewas many a gentle tear to be dried; but at last Mrs. St. Leger spoke,half, it seemed, to turn off the too painful impression of the over-truetale, the outlines whereof may be still read in old Charlevoix.

  "You have told a sad and a noble tale, sir, and told it well; but,though your story was to set forth a perfect husband, it has endedrather by setting forth a perfect wife."

  "And if I have forgotten, madam, in praising her to praise him also,have I not done that which would have best pleased his heroical andchivalrous spirit? He, be sure, would have forgotten his own virtue inthe light of hers; and he would have wished me, I doubt not, to do thesame also. And beside, madam, where ladies are the theme, who has timeor heart to cast one thought upon their slaves?" And the Don made one ofhis deliberate and highly-finished bows.

  "Don Guzman is courtier enough, as far as compliments go," said one ofthe young ladies; "but it was hardly courtier-like of him to find us sosad an entertainment, upon a merry evening."

  "Yes," said another; "we must ask him for no more stories."

  "Or songs either," said a third. "I fear he knows none but aboutforsaken maidens and despairing lovers."

  "I know nothing at all about forsaken ladies, madam; because ladies arenever forsaken in Spain."

  "Nor about lovers despairing there, I suppose?"

  "That good opinion of ourselves, madam, with which you English arepleased to twit us now and then, always prevents so sad a state of mind.For myself, I have had little to do with love; but I have had still lessto do with despair, and intend, by help of Heaven, to have less."

  "You are valiant, sir."

  "You would not have me a coward, madam?" and so forth.

  Now all this time Don Guzman had been talking at Rose Salterne, andgiving her the very slightest hint, every now and then, that he wastalking at her; till the poor girl's face was almost crimson withpleasure, and she gave herself up to the spell. He loved her still;perhaps he knew that she loved him: he must know some day. She felt nowthat there was no escape; she was almost glad to think that there wasnone.

  The dark, handsom
e, stately face; the melodious voice, with its richSpanish accent; the quiet grace of the gestures; the wild pathos ofthe story; even the measured and inflated style, as of one speaking ofanother and a loftier world; the chivalrous respect and admiration forwoman, and for faithfulness to woman--what a man he was! If he had beenpleasant heretofore, he was now enchanting. All the ladies round feltthat, she could see, as much as she herself did; no, not quite as much,she hoped. She surely understood him, and felt for his loneliness morethan any of them. Had she not been feeling for it through long and sadmonths? But it was she whom he was thinking of, she whom he was speakingto, all along. Oh, why had the tale ended so soon? She would gladly havesat and wept her eyes out till midnight over one melodious misery afteranother; but she was quite wise enough to keep her secret to herself;and sat behind the rest, with greedy eyes and demure lips, full ofstrange and new happiness--or misery; she knew not which to call it.

  In the meanwhile, as it was ordained, Cary could see and hear throughthe window of the hall a good deal of what was going on.

  "How that Spanish crocodile ogles the Rose!" whispered he to young St.Leger.

  "What wonder? He is not the first by many a one."

  "Ay--but--By heaven, she is making side-shots at him with thoselanguishing eyes of hers, the little baggage!"

  "What wonder? He is not the first, say I, and won't be the last. Passthe wine, man."

  "I have had enough; between sack and singing, my head is as mazed as adizzy sheep. Let me slip out."

  "Not yet, man; remember you are bound for one song more."

  So Cary, against his will, sat and sang another song; and in themeanwhile the party had broken up, and wandered away by twos and threes,among trim gardens and pleasaunces, and clipped yew-walks--

  Where west-winds with musky wing About the cedarn alleys fling Nard and cassia's balmy smells--"

  admiring the beauty of that stately place, long since passed into otherhands, and fallen to decay, but then (if old Prince speaks true) one ofthe noblest mansions of the West.

  At last Cary got away and out; sober, but just enough flushed with wineto be ready for any quarrel; and luckily for him, had not gone twentyyards along the great terrace before he met Lady Grenville.

  "Has your ladyship seen Don Guzman?"

  "Yes--why, where is he? He was with me not ten minutes ago. You know heis going back to Spain."

  "Going! Has his ransom come?"

  "Yes, and with it a governorship in the Indies."

  "Governorship! Much good may it do the governed."

  "Why not, then? He is surely a most gallant gentleman."

  "Gallant enough--yes," said Cary, carelessly. "I must find him, andcongratulate him on his honors."

  "I will help you to find him," said Lady Grenville, whose woman's eyeand ear had already suspected something. "Escort me, sir."

  "It is but too great an honor to squire the Queen of Bideford," saidCary, offering his hand.

  "If I am your queen, sir, I must be obeyed," answered she, in a meaningtone. Cary took the hint, and went on chattering cheerfully enough.

  But Don Guzman was not to be found in garden or in pleasaunce.

  "Perhaps," at last said a burgher's wife, with a toss of her head, "yourladyship may meet with him at Hankford's oak."

  "At Hankford's oak! what should take him there?"

  "Pleasant company, I reckon" (with another toss). "I heard him andMistress Salterne talking about the oak just now."

  Cary turned pale and drew in his breath.

  "Very likely," said Lady Grenville, quietly. "Will you walk with me sofar, Mr. Cary?"

  "To the world's end, if your ladyship condescends so far." And off theywent, Lady Grenville wishing that they were going anywhere else, butafraid to let Cary go alone; and suspecting, too, that some one or otherought to go.

  So they went down past the herds of deer, by a trim-kept path intothe lonely dell where stood the fatal oak; and, as they went, LadyGrenville, to avoid more unpleasant talk, poured into Cary's unheedingears the story (which he probably had heard fifty times before) how oldChief-justice Hankford (whom some contradictory myths make the man whocommitted Prince Henry to prison for striking him on the bench), wearyof life and sickened at the horrors and desolations of the Wars of theRoses, went down to his house at Annery there, and bade his keeper shootany man who, passing through the deer-park at night, should refuse tostand when challenged; and then going down into that glen himself, andhiding himself beneath that oak, met willingly by his keeper's hand thedeath which his own dared not inflict: but ere the story was half done,Cary grasped Lady Grenville's hand so tightly that she gave a littleshriek of pain.

  "There they are!" whispered he, heedless of her; and pointed to the oak,where, half hidden by the tall fern, stood Rose and the Spaniard.

  Her head was on his bosom. She seemed sobbing, trembling; he talkingearnestly and passionately; but Lady Grenville's little shriek made themboth look up. To turn and try to escape was to confess all; and thetwo, collecting themselves instantly, walked towards her, Rose wishingherself fathoms deep beneath the earth.

  "Mind, sir," whispered Lady Grenville as they came up; "you have seennothing."

  "Madam?"

  "If you are not on my ground, you are on my brother's. Obey me!"

  Cary bit his lip, and bowed courteously to the Don.

  "I have to congratulate you, I hear, senor, on your approachingdeparture."

  "I kiss your hands, senor, in return; but I question whether it be amatter of congratulation, considering all that I leave behind."

  "So do I," answered Cary, bluntly enough, and the four walked back tothe house, Lady Grenville taking everything for granted with the mostcharming good humor, and chatting to her three silent companionstill they gained the terrace once more, and found four or five ofthe gentlemen, with Sir Richard at their head, proceeding to thebowling-green.

  Lady Grenville, in an agony of fear about the quarrel which she knewmust come, would have gladly whispered five words to her husband: butshe dared not do it before the Spaniard, and dreaded, too, a faint ora scream from the Rose, whose father was of the party. So she walkedon with her fair prisoner, commanding Cary to escort them in, and theSpaniard to go to the bowling-green.

  Cary obeyed: but he gave her the slip the moment she was inside thedoor, and then darted off to the gentlemen.

  His heart was on fire: all his old passion for the Rose had flashed upagain at the sight of her with a lover;--and that lover a Spaniard! Hewould cut his throat for him, if steel could do it! Only he recollectedthat Salterne was there, and shrank from exposing Rose; and shrank, too,as every gentleman should, from making a public quarrel in another man'shouse. Never mind. Where there was a will there was a way. He could gethim into a corner, and quarrel with him privately about the cut ofhis beard, or the color of his ribbon. So in he went; and, luckily orunluckily, found standing together apart from the rest, Sir Richard, theDon, and young St. Leger.

  "Well, Don Guzman, you have given us wine-bibbers the slip thisafternoon. I hope you have been well employed in the meanwhile?"

  "Delightfully to myself, senor," said the Don, who, enraged at beinginterrupted, if not discovered, was as ready to fight as Cary, butdisliked, of course, an explosion as much as he did; "and to others, Idoubt not."

  "So the ladies say," quoth St. Leger. "He has been making them all crywith one of his stories, and robbing us meanwhile of the pleasure we hadhoped for from some of his Spanish songs."

  "The devil take Spanish songs!" said Cary, in a low voice, but loudenough for the Spaniard. Don Guzman clapt his hand on his sword-hiltinstantly.

  "Lieutenant Cary," said Sir Richard, in a stern voice, "the wine hassurely made you forget yourself!"

  "As sober as yourself, most worshipful knight; but if you want a Spanishsong, here's one; and a very scurvy one it is, like its subject--

  "Don Desperado Walked on the Prado, And there he met his enemy. He pull
ed out a knife, a, And let out his life, a, And fled for his own across the sea."

  And he bowed low to the Spaniard.

  The insult was too gross to require any spluttering.

  "Senor Cary, we meet?"

  "I thank your quick apprehension, Don Guzman Maria Magdalena Sotomayorde Soto. When, where, and with what weapons?"

  "For God's sake, gentlemen! Nephew Arthur, Cary is your guest; do youknow the meaning of this?"

  St. Leger was silent. Cary answered for him.

  "An old Irish quarrel, I assure you, sir. A matter of years' standing.In unlacing the senor's helmet, the evening that he was taken prisoner,I was unlucky enough to twitch his mustachios. You recollect the fact,of course, senor?"

  "Perfectly," said the Spaniard; and then, half-amused and half-pleased,in spite of his bitter wrath, at Cary's quickness and delicacy inshielding Rose, he bowed, and--

  "And it gives me much pleasure to find that he whom I trust to have thepleasure of killing tomorrow morning is a gentleman whose nice sense ofhonor renders him thoroughly worthy of the sword of a De Soto."

  Cary bowed in return, while Sir Richard, who saw plainly enough that theexcuse was feigned, shrugged his shoulders.

  "What weapons, senor?" asked Will again.

  "I should have preferred a horse and pistols," said Don Guzman aftera moment, half to himself, and in Spanish; "they make surer work of itthan bodkins; but" (with a sigh and one of his smiles) "beggars must notbe choosers."

  "The best horse in my stable is at your service, senor," said SirRichard Grenville, instantly.

  "And in mine also, senor," said Cary; "and I shall be happy to allow youa week to train him, if he does not answer at first to a Spanish hand."

  "You forget in your courtesy, gentle sir, that the insult being with me,the time lies with me also. We wipe it off to-morrow morning with simplerapiers and daggers. Who is your second?"

  "Mr. Arthur St. Leger here, senor: who is yours?"

  The Spaniard felt himself alone in the world for one moment; and thenanswered with another of his smiles,--

  "Your nation possesses the soul of honor. He who fights an Englishmanneeds no second."

  "And he who fights among Englishmen will always find one," said SirRichard. "I am the fittest second for my guest."

  "You only add one more obligation, illustrious cavalier, to a two-years'prodigality of favors, which I shall never be able to repay."

  "But, Nephew Arthur," said Grenville, "you cannot surely be secondagainst your father's guest, and your own uncle."

  "I cannot help it, sir; I am bound by an oath, as Will can tell you. Isuppose you won't think it necessary to let me blood?"

  "You half deserve it, sirrah!" said Sir Richard, who was very angry: butthe Don interposed quickly.

  "Heaven forbid, senors! We are no French duellists, who are mad enoughto make four or six lives answer for the sins of two. This gentlemanand I have quarrel enough between us, I suspect, to make a right bloodyencounter."

  "The dependence is good enough, sir," said Cary, licking his sinfullips at the thought. "Very well. Rapiers and shirts at three tomorrowmorning--Is that the bill of fare? Ask Sir Richard where, Atty? It isagainst punctilio now for me to speak to him till after I am killed."

  "On the sands opposite. The tide will be out at three. And now, gallantgentlemen, let us join the bowlers."

  And so they went back and spent a merry evening, all except poor Rose,who, ere she went back, had poured all her sorrows into Lady Grenville'sear. For the kind woman, knowing that she was motherless and guileless,carried her off into Mrs. St. Leger's chamber, and there entreated herto tell the truth, and heaped her with pity but with no comfort. Forindeed, what comfort was there to give?

  * * * * *

  Three o'clock, upon a still pure bright midsummer morning. A broadand yellow sheet of ribbed tide-sands, through which the shallow riverwanders from one hill-foot to the other, whispering round dark knollsof rock, and under low tree-fringed cliffs, and banks of golden broom.A mile below, the long bridge and the white walled town, all sleepingpearly in the soft haze, beneath a cloudless vault of blue. Thewhite glare of dawn, which last night hung high in the northwest, hastravelled now to the northeast, and above the wooded wall of the hillsthe sky is flushing with rose and amber.

  A long line of gulls goes wailing up inland; the rooks from Annery comecawing and sporting round the corner at Landcross, while high above themfour or five herons flap solemnly along to find their breakfast on theshallows. The pheasants and partridges are clucking merrily in the longwet grass; every copse and hedgerow rings with the voice of birds, butthe lark, who has been singing since midnight in the "blank height ofthe dark," suddenly hushes his carol and drops headlong among the corn,as a broad-winged buzzard swings from some wooded peak into the abyss ofthe valley, and hangs high-poised above the heavenward songster. The airis full of perfume; sweet clover, new-mown hay, the fragrant breath ofkine, the dainty scent of sea-weed wreaths and fresh wet sand. Gloriousday, glorious place, "bridal of earth and sky," decked well with bridalgarlands, bridal perfumes, bridal songs,--What do those four cloakedfigures there by the river brink, a dark spot on the fair face of thesummer morn?

  Yet one is as cheerful as if he too, like all nature round him, weregoing to a wedding; and that is Will Cary. He has been bathing downbelow, to cool his brain and steady his hand; and he intends to stop DonGuzman Maria Magdalena Sotomayor de Soto's wooing for ever and a day.The Spaniard is in a very different mood; fierce and haggard, he ispacing up and down the sand. He intends to kill Will Cary; but then?Will he be the nearer to Rose by doing so? Can he stay in Bideford?Will she go with him? Shall he stoop to stain his family by marrying aburgher's daughter? It is a confused, all but desperate business; andDon Guzman is certain but of one thing, that he is madly in love withthis fair witch, and that if she refuse him, then, rather than see heraccept another man, he would kill her with his own hands.

  Sir Richard Grenville too is in no very pleasant humor, as St. Legersoon discovers, when the two seconds begin whispering over theirarrangements.

  "We cannot have either of them killed, Arthur."

  "Mr. Cary swears he will kill the Spaniard, sir."

  "He sha'n't. The Spaniard is my guest. I am answerable for him to Leigh,and for his ransom too. And how can Leigh accept the ransom if the manis not given up safe and sound? They won't pay for a dead carcass, boy!The man's life is worth two hundred pounds."

  "A very bad bargain, sir, for those who pay the said two hundred forthe rascal; but what if he kills Cary?"

  "Worse still. Cary must not be killed. I am very angry with him, but heis too good a lad to be lost; and his father would never forgive us. Wemust strike up their swords at the first scratch."

  "It will make them very mad, sir."

  "Hang them! let them fight us then, if they don't like our counsel. Itmust be, Arthur."

  "Be sure, sir," said Arthur, "that whatsoever you shall command I shallperform. It is only too great an honor to a young man as I am to findmyself in the same duel with your worship, and to have the advantage ofyour wisdom and experience."

  Sir Richard smiles, and says--"Now, gentlemen! are you ready?"

  The Spaniard pulls out a little crucifix, and kisses it devoutly,smiting on his breast; crosses himself two or three times, andsays--"Most willingly, senor."

  Cary kisses no crucifix, but says a prayer nevertheless.

  Cloaks and doublets are tossed off, the men placed, the rapiers measuredhilt and point; Sir Richard and St. Leger place themselves right andleft of the combatants, facing each other, the points of their drawnswords on the sand. Cary and the Spaniard stand for a moment quiteupright, their sword-arms stretched straight before them, holding thelong rapier horizontally, the left hand clutching the dagger close totheir breasts. So they stand eye to eye, with clenched teeth and palecrushed lips, while men might count a score; St. Leger can hear thebeating of his own heart; Sir Richard is p
raying inwardly that no lifemay be lost. Suddenly there is a quick turn of Cary's wrist and a leapforward. The Spaniard's dagger flashes, and the rapier is turned aside;Cary springs six feet back as the Spaniard rushes on him in turn. Parry,thrust, parry--the steel rattles, the sparks fly, the men breathe fierceand loud; the devil's game is begun in earnest.

  Five minutes have the two had instant death a short six inches off fromthose wild sinful hearts of theirs, and not a scratch has been given.Yes! the Spaniard's rapier passes under Cary's left arm; he bleeds.

  "A hit! a hit! Strike up, Atty!" and the swords are struck up instantly.

  Cary, nettled by the smart, tries to close with his foe, but the secondscross their swords before him.

  "It is enough, gentlemen. Don Guzman's honor is satisfied!"

  "But not my revenge, senor," says the Spaniard, with a frown. "This duelis a l'outrance, on my part; and, I believe, on Mr. Cary's also."

  "By heaven, it is!" says Will, trying to push past. "Let me go, ArthurSt. Leger; one of us must down. Let me go, I say!"

  "If you stir, Mr. Cary, you have to do with Richard Grenville!" thundersthe lion voice. "I am angry enough with you for having brought on thisduel at all. Don't provoke me still further, young hot-head!"

  Cary stops sulkily.

  "You do not know all, Sir Richard, or you would not speak in this way."

  "I do, sir, all; and I shall have the honor of talking it over with DonGuzman myself."

  "Hey!" said the Spaniard. "You came here as my second, Sir Richard, as Iunderstood, but not as my counsellor."

  "Arthur, take your man away! Cary! obey me as you would your father,sir! Can you not trust Richard Grenville?"

  "Come away, for God's sake!" says poor Arthur, dragging Cary's swordfrom him; "Sir Richard must know best!"

  So Cary is led off sulking, and Sir Richard turns to the Spaniard,

  "And now, Don Guzman, allow me, though much against my will, to speak toyou as a friend to a friend. You will pardon me if I say that I cannotbut have seen last night's devotion to--"

  "You will be pleased, senor, not to mention the name of any lady to whomI may have shown devotion. I am not accustomed to have my little affairstalked over by any unbidden counsellors."

  "Well, senor, if you take offence, you take that which is not given.Only I warn you, with all apologies for any seeming forwardness, thatthe quest on which you seem to be is one on which you will not beallowed to proceed."

  "And who will stop me?" asked the Spaniard, with a fierce oath.

  "You are not aware, illustrious senor," said Sir Richard, parrying thequestion, "that our English laity look upon mixed marriages with full asmuch dislike as your own ecclesiastics."

  "Marriage, sir? Who gave you leave to mention that word to me?"

  Sir Richard's brow darkened; the Spaniard, in his insane pride, hadforced upon the good knight a suspicion which was not really just.

  "Is it possible, then, Senor Don Guzman, that I am to have the shame ofmentioning a baser word?"

  "Mention what you will, sir. All words are the same to me; for, just orunjust, I shall answer them alike only by my sword."

  "You will do no such thing, sir. You forget that I am your host."

  "And do you suppose that you have therefore a right to insult me? Standon your guard, sir!"

  Grenville answered by slapping his own rapier home into the sheath witha quiet smile.

  "Senor Don Guzman must be well enough aware of who Richard Grenville is,to know that he may claim the right of refusing duel to any man, if heshall so think fit."

  "Sir!" cried the Spaniard, with an oath, "this is too much! Do you dareto hint that I am unworthy of your sword? Know, insolent Englishman, Iam not merely a De Soto, though that, by St. James, were enough for youor any man. I am a Sotomayor, a Mendoza, a Bovadilla, a Losada, a--sir!I have blood royal in my veins, and you dare to refuse my challenge?"

  "Richard Grenville can show quarterings, probably, against even DonGuzman Maria Magdalena Sotomayor de Soto, or against (with no offence tothe unquestioned nobility of your pedigree) the bluest blood of Spain.But he can show, moreover, thank God, a reputation which raises himas much above the imputation of cowardice, as it does above that ofdiscourtesy. If you think fit, senor, to forget what you have just, invery excusable anger, vented, and to return with me, you will find mestill, as ever, your most faithful servant and host. If otherwise, youhave only to name whither you wish your mails to be sent, and I shall,with unfeigned sorrow, obey your commands concerning them."

  The Spaniard bowed stiffly, answered, "To the nearest tavern, senor,"and then strode away. His baggage was sent thither. He took a boat downto Appledore that very afternoon, and vanished, none knew whither. Avery courteous note to Lady Grenville, enclosing the jewel which he hadbeen used to wear round his neck, was the only memorial he left behindhim: except, indeed, the scar on Cary's arm, and poor Rose's brokenheart.

  Now county towns are scandalous places at best; and though all partiestried to keep the duel secret, yet, of course, before noon all Bidefordknew what had happened, and a great deal more; and what was even worse,Rose, in an agony of terror, had seen Sir Richard Grenville enter herfather's private room, and sit there closeted with him for an hour andmore; and when he went, upstairs came old Salterne, with his stick inhis hand, and after rating her soundly for far worse than a flirt, gaveher (I am sorry to have to say it, but such was the mild fashion ofpaternal rule in those times, even over such daughters as Lady JaneGrey, if Roger Ascham is to be believed) such a beating that her poorsides were black and blue for many a day; and then putting her on apillion behind him, carried her off twenty miles to her old prison atStow mill, commanding her aunt to tame down her saucy blood with breadof affliction and water of affliction. Which commands were willinglyenough fulfilled by the old dame, who had always borne a grudge againstRose for being rich while she was poor, and pretty while her daughterwas plain; so that between flouts, and sneers, and watchings, and prettyopen hints that she was a disgrace to her family, and no better than sheshould be, the poor innocent child watered her couch with her tears fora fortnight or more, stretching out her hands to the wide Atlantic, andcalling wildly to Don Guzman to return and take her where he would, andshe would live for him and die for him; and perhaps she did not call invain.