"I have a way of escape to offer," she answered softly. "Escape for him? Or for me?" "For both. Now listen! There is but one way to relax Melinza's hold on Senor Rivers. He would exchange him willingly for you." "Better for us both to die!" I exclaimed indignantly. "I would sooner kill you with my own hands than give you up to him," said Dona Orosia, with a cold smile. "Then what do you mean, senora?" "I mean, Margarita mia, that you should feign a tenderness for him and let him think that it is I who would keep two loving souls apart." "What! when I have shown him naught but dislike in all these months? He could never be so witless as to believe in such a sudden transformation." "Such is the vanity of man," said Dona Orosia, "that he would find it easier to believe that you had feigned hatred all this while from fear of me, than to doubt that you had eventually fallen a victim to his fascinations." "What would it advantage me if I did deceive him?" "He would then cease to oppose the liberation of all the other prisoners." "But what of my fate, senora?" "Leave that in my hands, little one,--I am not powerless. I give thee my word he shall never have thee. At the last moment we shall undeceive him"--and she laughed a low laugh of triumph. I glanced up quickly. "So!" I exclaimed. "This will be your revenge! And you would bribe me, with my dear love's freedom, to act a part in it! To lie for you; to play at love where I feel only loathing; to sully my lips with feigned caresses; and to make a mockery of the holiest thing in life!" "Is your Englishman not worth some sacrifice?" she asked, with lifted brows. What could I say? I left her. I hastened to my little room, shut fast the door, and bolted it on the inner side. Then I knelt at the barred window and looked out at the sunlight and the sea. The blue waves danced happily, and the fresh wind kissed the sparkling ripples till the foam curled over them--as white lids droop coyly over laughing eyes. Two snowy gulls dipped and soared, flashing now against the blue sky--now into the blue sea. I gazed at their white wings--and thought of all the vain prayers I had sent up to Heaven. And then the dark hour of my life closed down on me. I bethought me of my father, that loyal gentleman whose only fault was that he served his Prince too well,--a Prince whose gratitude had never prompted him to inquire concerning that servant's fate, or to offer a word of consolation to the wife who had lost her all. I bethought me of my young mother, of her white, tear-stained face, of the long hours she had spent upon her knees, and how at last she prayed: "Lord! only to know that he is dead!"--yet she died ignorant.