“You see, one can’t have everything, Señor Valdez,” continued Megales lightly. “For me, I cannot have both Chihuahua and my life; you, it seems, cannot have both your successful revolution and my daughter.” “Your excellency, she loves me. Of that I am assured. It rests with you to say whether her life will be spoiled or not. You know what I can offer her in addition to a heart full of devotion. It is enough. Shall she be sacrificed to her loyalty to you?” the young man demanded, with all the ardor of his warm-blooded race. “It is no sacrifice to love and obey my father,” came a low murmur from the former governor’s shoulder. “Since the world began it has been the law of life that the young should leave their parents for a home of their own,” Juan protested. “So the Scripture says,” agreed Megales sardonically. “It further counsels to love one’s enemies, but, I think, omits mention of the enemies of one’s father.” “Sir, I am not your enemy. Political exigencies have thrown us into different camps, but we are not so small as to let such incidentals come between us as a vital objection in such a matter.” “You argue like a lawyer,” smiled the governor. “You forget that I am neither judge nor jury. Tyrant I may have been to a fickle people that needed a firm hand to rule them, but tyrant I am not to my only daughter.” “Then you consent, your excellency?” cried Valdez joyously. “I neither consent nor refuse. You must go to a more final authority than mine for an answer, young man.” “But you are willing she should follow where her heart leads?” “But certainly.” “Then she is mine,” cried Valdez. “I am not,” replied the girl indignantly over her shoulder. Megales turned her till her unconsenting eyes met his. “Do you want to marry this young man, Carmencita?” “I never told him anything of the sort,” she flamed. “I didn’t quite ask what you had told him. The question is whether you love him.” “But no; I love you,” she blushed. “I hope so,” smiled her father. “But do you love him? An honest answer, if you please.” “Could I love a rebel?” “No Yankee answers, _muchacha_. Do you love Juan Valdez?” It was Valdez that broke triumphantly the moment’s silence that followed. “She does. She does. I claim the consent of silence.” But victory spoke too prematurely in his voice. Cried the proud Spanish girl passionately: “I hate him!” Megales understood the quality of her hate, and beckoned to his future son-in-law. “I have some arrangements to make for our journey to-night. Would it distress you, señor, if I were to leave you for a while?” He slipped out and left them alone. “Well?” asked O’Halloran, who had remained in the corridor. “I think, Señor Dictator, I shall have to make the trip with only General Carlo for a companion,” answered the Spaniard. The Irishman swung his hat. “Hip, hip, hurrah! You’re a gentleman I could find it in me heart to both love and hate, governor.”