The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1906-01-31


duty!
She was mad with anger and disap-
pointment. She loathed him; she hated
him; she ragged against him in her
heart. Why had he not killed De Tobar
where he stood, seized her in his arms,
brayed the anger Of her father and
galloped away-anywhere out into the
mysterious southland where they could
be together? Well and good-she would
marry Don Felipe. She would as
sumo a happiness that she could not
feel and kill him with the sight OF it.
He had disdained her; he should suffer,
suffer in proportion to his love, such
torments as he had made her suffer
last night-shame, disappointment, in
dignation.
She had not slept the entire night,
either, thinking these things, yet it had
not all been pain. How nobly he had
lied to save her-he to whom lie was
worse than death! He had tried to as
sumo dishonor for her sake. He loved
her-yes, there was no doubt OF It.
She closed her eyes with the thought,
and her whole being was filed with ex-
quisite anguish. He loved her, he was
made for her, yet when he might have
taken her he refused. De Tobar was
indeed a brave and gallant gentleman,
but his qualities were as moonlight to
the sunlight compared to those OF Al
IL.
varado. In spite of herself, though
the mere suggestion Of it angered her,
she found herself obliged to grant that
there was something noble in that po-
sition he had assumed which SO filed
her with fury. 1t was not with him
a question Of loving duty and honor
more than herself, but it was q ques-
ton Of doing duty and preserving hon
or. though the heart broke and the
soul was rent in the effort.
In spite of her careful avoidance OF
his eyes, her cold demeanor, that morn
ing she had marked the haggard, pale
face Of the young soldier to whom she
had given her heart, which showed
that be, too, had suffered: She watch
ed him as he rode, superb horseman
that he was, at the head Of the little
cavalcade. Tall, straight, erect grace
full, she was glad that he rode in ad-
vance, with his back to her, so that she
might follow him with her eyes, her
gaze unheeded by any but Sonora
Agapida, and for her she did not care.
AS he turned at intervals to survey
his charges, to see that all were keep
ing closed up and in order, by furtive
glances she could mark with exultation
the pallor that had taken the place OF
the ruddy hue on the fair cheek OF her
lover. Size could even note the black
circles under the blue eyes beneath the
sunny hair, so different from her own
midnight crown.
And indeed his thoughts were bit
ter. What must she think Of him? He
had been a fool. Happiness had seea
his for the taking, and he had THROWN
it away. Why had he not brushed De
Tobar out Of his path, silenced the vice
roy-no, not by death, but by binding
him fast-and then taken the woman
he loved and who loved him, for she
had proved it by her utter abandon
ment of herself to him? Those old sol
diers who had served him for many
years would have followed him wher-
ever he led. The viceroy's arm was
long, but they could have found ha-
ven where they could have been to-
gether. God had made them for each
other, and he had refused. He had
thrust her aside. He had pushed the
cup of happiness from his own lips
with his own hand.
He wished it was all to do over again.
Now it was too late. TO the chains Of
duty, honor, gratitude, had been added
that of his plighted word. Knowing
his love. De Tobar, his friend, had
trusted him. knowing his daughters
love, the vice1oy had also trusted him.
He was locked with fetters, bound and
sealed, helpless. And yet the tempta-
ton grew with each hour. He had sus-
pected, he had dreamed, he had hoped,
that Mercedes loved him; now he was
sure Of it. Oh, what happiness might
have been bis!
What was this mystery about his
birth? He had been picked up baby
in a deserted village outside Of Pana-
ma. He had been found by the Count
de Lara, who had led his troops to the
succor OF that d,omed town, which un-
fortunately he had reached only after
the buccaneers had departed. Search
had been made for his parents, but
without success. The yiceroy, finding
none to claim the bright faced baby,
had given him a name and had caused
him to be brought up in his own house
hold There was nothing in his ap-
parel to distinguish him save the ex-
ouisite fneness and richness Of the ma
terial. Thrown around his neck had
been curiously wrought silver cruci-
fix on a silver chain, and that crucifix
he had worn ever since It lay upon
his breast beneath his clothing now.
1t was the sole object which connected
him with his past.
Since he had reached man's estate