which had dictated the terms of his letter. Its tone was very independent. I remember it struck me at the time as noble&mdash;dignified. It was, no doubt, her letter. Now I shudder at the depth of its duplicity. Gaspar Ruiz was made to complain of the injustice of which he had been a victim. He invoked his previous record of fidelity and courage. Having been saved from death by the miraculous interposition of Providence, he could think of nothing but of retrieving his character. This, he wrote, he could not hope to do in the ranks as a discredited soldier still under suspicion. He had the means to give a striking proof of his fidelity. He had ended by proposing to the General-in-Chief a meeting at midnight in the middle of the Plaza before the Moneta. The signal would be to strike fire with flint and steel three times, which was not too conspicuous and yet distinctive enough for recognition. </p> <p> &ldquo;San Martin, the great Liberator, loved men of audacity and courage. Besides, he was just and compassionate. I told him as much of the man&rsquo;s story as I knew, and was ordered to accompany him on the appointed night. The signals were duly exchanged. It was midnight, and the whole town was dark and silent. Their two cloaked figures came together in the centre of the vast Plaza, and, keeping discreetly at a distance, I listened for an hour or more to the murmur of their voices. Then the General motioned me to approach; and as I did so I heard San Martin, who was courteous to gentle and simple alike, offer Gaspar Ruiz the hospitality of the headquarters for the night. But the soldier refused, saying that he would be not worthy of that honour till he had done something. </p> <p> &ldquo;&lsquo;You cannot have a common deserter for your guest, Excellency,&rsquo; he protested with a low laugh, and stepping backwards merged slowly into the night. </p> <p> &ldquo;The Commander-in-Chief observed to me, as we turned away: &lsquo;He had somebody with him, our friend Ruiz. I saw two figures for a moment. It was an unobtrusive companion.&rsquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;I, too, had observed another figure join the vanishing form of Gaspar Ruiz. It had the appearance of a short fellow in a poncho and a big hat. And I wondered stupidly who it could be he had dared take into his confidence. I might have guessed it could be no one but that fatal girl&mdash;alas! </p> <p> &ldquo;Where he kept her concealed I do not know. He had&mdash;it was known afterwards&mdash;an uncle, his mother&rsquo;s brother, a small shopkeeper in Santiago. Perhaps it was there that she found a roof and food. Whatever she found, it was poor enough to exasperate her pride and keep up her anger and hate.