"I feared as much. Well, if I cannot dissuade you from attempting this enterprise, I must e'en go with you, as I am pledged to do. To let you undertake it alone, after agreeing to bear you company were treason to our friendship. It would be like deserting in the face of the enemy." "Not so, Carmen. The agreement has been cancelled by mutual consent, and to leave Juanita after winning her heart would be quite as bad as deserting in face of the enemy. And I have a right to choose my company. You shall not go with me." Juanita again gave me her hand, and from the look that accompanied it I thought that, had I spoken first--but it was too late; the die was cast. "You will not go just yet," she murmured; "you will stay with us a little longer." "As you wish, señorita. A few days more or less will make little difference." Several other attempts were made to turn me from my purpose. Don Esteban himself (who was greatly pleased with his daughter's betrothal to Carmen), prompted thereto by Juanita, entered the lists. He expressed regret that he had not another daughter whom he could bestow upon me, and went even so far as to offer me land and to set me up as a Venezuelan country gentleman if I would consent to stay. But I remained firm to my resolve. For, albeit, none perceived it but myself I was in a false position. Though I was not hopelessly in love with Juanita I liked her so well that the contemplation of Carmen's happiness did not add to my own. I thought, too, that Juanita guessed the true state of the case; and she was so kind and gentle withal, and her gratitude at times was so demonstrative that I feared if I stayed long at Naparima there might be trouble, for like all men of Spanish blood, Carmen was quite capable of being furiously jealous. I left them a month before the day fixed for their marriage. My companions were Gahra, and a dozen Indians and mestizoes, to each of whom I was enabled, by Don Esteban's kindness, to give a handsome gratuity beforehand. To Juanita I gave as a wedding-present my ruby-ring, to Carmen my horse Pizarro. Our parting was one of the most painful incidents of my long and checkered life. I loved them both and I think they loved me. Juanita wept abundantly; we all embraced and tried to console ourselves by promising each other that we should meet again; but when or where or how, none of us could tell, and in our hearts we knew that the chances against the fruition of our hopes were too great to be reckoned. Then, full of sad thoughts and gloomy forebodings, I set out on my long journey to the unknown. CHAPTER XX. THE HAPPY VALLEY.