LITMIR.BIZ

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cigarette, while talking to her father.

      "Yes, father," she said, "a ship has arrived to day from Buenos Aires, with the prettiest birds in the world."

      "Well, little one?"

      "I fancy that my dear little father," she remarked, with an adorable pout, "is not at all gallant this evening."

      "What do you know about it, young lady?" Don Valentine replied with a smile.

      "No, have you really," she said, bounding with delight in her chair, and clapping her hands, "thought of – "

      "Buying you some birds? You will tomorrow see your aviary stocked with parrots, Bengalis, macaws, hummingbirds, in short, about four hundred specimens, you ungrateful little chit."

      "Oh, how good you are, father, and how I love you," the girl replied, throwing her arms round Don Valentine's neck, and embracing him several times.

      "Enough, enough, madcap. Do you want to stifle me with your caresses?"

      "What can I do to requite your kindness?"

      "Poor dear, I have only you to love now."

      "Say adore, my darling father; for it is adoration you feel for me. Hence, I love you with all the strength God has placed in my heart."

      "And yet," Don Valentine said, with a gentle accent of reproach, "you do not fear, naughty girl, to cause me anxiety."

      "I?" Concha asked, with an internal tremor.

      "Yes, you, you," he said, threatening her tenderly with his finger, "you hide something from me."

      "Father!"

      "Come, child, a father's eyes can read the heart of a girl of fifteen, and for some days past, if I am not mistaken, I have not been the sole object of your thoughts."

      "That is true," the girl replied, with a certain amount of resolution.

      "And whom are you dreaming of, little maid?" Don Valentine asked, hiding his anxiety behind a smile.

      "Of Don Torribio Carvajal."

      "Ah," the father cried, in a choking voice "and do you love him?"

      "No," she answered; "listen, father, I will conceal nothing from you. No," she continued, laying her hand on her heart, "I do not love Don Torribio, still he occupies my thoughts; why, I cannot say, but his look troubles and fascinates me, his voice causes me a feeling of undefinable pain; he is handsome, his manners are elegant and noble, he has everything belonging to a gentleman of high caste, and yet something in him, something fatal, checks me, and inspires me with invincible repugnance."

      "You romantic girl."

      "Laugh at me, ridicule me," she said with a tremor in her voice. "Shall I confess all to you, father?"

      "Speak with confidence."

      "Well, I have a presentiment that this man will be dangerous to me."

      "Child," Don Valentine replied, as he kissed her forehead, "what can he do to you?"

      "I do not know; but I am afraid."

      "Do you wish not to remain here any longer?"

      "Heaven forbid! That would be hastening on the misfortune that threatens me."

      "You are losing your head, and taking pleasure in creating chimeras."

      At the same moment a man servant announced Don Torribio Carvajal, who entered the room.

      The young man was dressed in the latest Parisian fashion, and the candles lit up his splendid face.

      Father and daughter started.

      Don Torribio walked up to Doña Concha, bowed to her gracefully, and offered her a superb bouquet of exotic flowers. She thanked him with a smile, took the bouquet, and almost without looking at it, laid it on a table.

      In succession were announced the governor, Don Antonio Valverde, accompanied by his whole staff, and two or three other families, or altogether some fifteen persons. By degrees the conversation grew animated.

      "Well, colonel," Don Valentine asked the governor, "What news from Buenos Aires?"

      "Our great Rosas," the colonel answered, who was stifling in his uniform, "has again defeated Oribe's Unitarian savages."

      "Heaven be praised! Perhaps that victory will procure us a little of that tranquillity which commerce requires."

      "Yes," a colonist remarked, "the communications are becoming so difficult that nothing can be sent by land."

      "Can the Indians be stirring?" a merchant asked anxiously, on hearing the observation.

      "Oh!" the stout commandant interrupted, "There is no danger; the last lesson they received was rude, they will remember it a long time, and not dream of invading our frontiers for many a day to come."

      An almost invisible smile played round Don Torribio's lips.

      "In case of an invasion, do you consider them capable of seriously troubling the colony?"

      "Hum!" Don Antonio answered, "Take them altogether they are poor scrubs."

      The young man smiled again in a bitter and sinister manner.

      "Excellency," he said, "I am of your opinion; I believe the Indians will do well in remaining at home."

      "I should think so," the commandant exclaimed.

      "Señorita," Don Torribio said, turning to Doña Concha, "would it be too great a favour to ask you to sing that delicious air from the Black Domino which you sang so exquisitely the other evening?"

      The young lady, without farther pressing, sat down to the pianoforte, and sang the romance from the third act in a pure voice.

      "I heard that sung in Paris by Madame Damoreau, a nightingale who has flown away, and I cannot say which of you displays more grace or simplicity."

      "Don Torribio," Doña Concha answered, "you lived too long in France."

      "Why so, señorita."

      "Because you have come back a detestable flatterer."

      "Bravo!" the governor said with a hearty laugh. "You see, Don Torribio, that our creoles are equal to the Parisian ladies in quickness of repartee."

      "Incontestably, colonel," the young man replied; "but leave me alone," he added with an undefinable accent, "I shall soon take my revenge."

      And he gave Doña Concha a look that made her shudder.

      "I trust, Don Torribio," the governor said, "that you will be present tomorrow at the Te Deum chanted in honour of our glorious Rosas?"

      "Impossible, colonel; this very evening I start on a compulsory journey."

      "What, another of your mysterious excursions?"

      "Yes, but this one will not be long, and I shall be back soon?"

      "All the better."

      "¿Quién sabe?" the young man murmured in a sinister voice.

      Doña Concha, who had heard the last words, was not mistress of her terror.

      The visitors took leave one after the other, and Don Torribio Carvajal was at length left alone with his hosts.

      "Señorita," he said on taking leave, "I am setting out on a journey in which I shall doubtless incur great dangers. May I hope that you will deign to remember the traveller in your prayers."

      Concha looked at him for a moment in the face, and replied with a frankness which was natural to her: —

      "Señor Caballero, I cannot pray for the success of an expedition whose object I do not know."

      "Thanks for your frankness, mademoiselle," Don Torribio answered without the slightest emotion, "I shall not forget your words."

      And after the customary compliments he retired.

      "The capataz of San Julian, Don Blas Salazar wishes to speak with Señor Don Valentine Cardoso on important business."

      "Let him come in," Don Valentine said to the servant who

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