"No!" I rejoined. "You could not have helped the people of New Spain. They must fight their own battles. No people are worthy of freedom who are not ready to give their lives for the ending of tyranny. Had you sacrificed yourself to Salcedo, he would either have betrayed the revolution, or he would have made himself a dictator, more tyrannous than before." "You told me that in Chihuahua, dear. I repeated your words to the padre, and he confirmed the statement. It was well, for had he shared my uncle's faith in Don Nimesio, he also might have sought to persuade me to give myself to the cause of liberty." "As it was," I murmured, "you attempted to come to me--alone!" "Not alone, Juan. There were the padre and my faithful Chita." "Ah, Chita--I did not see her in the boat." My lady began to weep. "Poor Chita! She was killed by a cannon-ball, when standing beside me, during that fearful destruction of our ship by the pirate sloop." "Pirate!" I repeated. "They flew the black flag?" "No; but it was a flag unknown to our captain, and he said they must be pirates. They attacked us without warning and signalled that they would give us no quarter--and they killed my poor Chita!" I remembered the dreadful vow of Captain Lafitte, but forgot it again in my efforts to comfort my darling. I drew her lovely head down upon my shoulder and stroked her silky hair. In the midst Father Rocus entered and came over to us, rubbing his plump, white hands together with satisfaction. "My dear children," he said, "after all your trials, you have at last won the happiness you deserve. Though you, my son, remain a heretic, I believe that such love as yours is sacred in the sight of God. My daughter, come now, that I may prepare you for the sacrament of holy wedlock." "Now?--so soon?" she cried, drawing free from me, and standing, scarlet-cheeked, her eyes fixed upon the deck, and her sweet bosom rising and falling tremulously. "He is bruised and torn in spirit and body. You alone can soothe him," said the padre. She cast at me a glance of unutterable tenderness, and withdrew into the adjoining stateroom. Father Rocus paused for a last word to me: "My son, this moment should be as solemn to you as it is joyful. Consider the great goodness of God in giving to you a wife more precious than rubies. In that thought, remember the words of our Blessed Lord Christ, 'Forgive your enemies.'" With that he left me, and I lay alone in my burning pain, wondering if it were possible for any man to forgive so bitter a shame and wrong as had been done to me. But quickly a sort of ecstatic awe crept over me as the consciousness of my marvellous--my splendid good fortune took possession of my mind. It seemed unbelievable, and yet he had said it. My dear lady was about to become my bride! She had crossed the gulf to me!