"To you, Don Gregorio, as the man of most influence among us; to you, young men, who wear the uniform of our victorious militia, the rising hope of our country, I address this question, that you take it into your serious consideration, but I ask you not for your answer, that answer it is not for us alone to give, that answer must come from an entire people, and shall ere long be spoken on the house-tops in the full blaze of the sun." Then, as Evaña sat down, burst forth from the younger members of that assembly a storm of applause, and Valentin Lopez y Viana, the youngest son of Don Gregorio, raising his hand in the air, shouted "Viva la Patria!" a cry which found its echo in every heart there present, and which ere long reverberated from south to north over an entire continent, rousing enslaved nations into the bold assertion of their rights as men. There was no more discussion of this or any other question; with many there present the influence of Spain was yet paramount, they might shout "Viva la Patria," but the Patria was to them a dream, and Spain was a dread reality, and treason against Spain was a fearful crime entailing fearful punishment; they were only too glad to take any pretext for opening the doors and seeking the shelter of their own homes. In deep chagrin Marcelino left the house in company with Don Manuel Belgrano, the only one who had shown any warm sympathy with his project. CHAPTER III SEVERAL WAYS OF LOOKING AT ONE QUESTION It was the evening after the one on which Don Gregorio Lopez had held a secret conference with his friends as narrated in the preceding chapter. Don Alfonso Miranda in a loose dressing-gown and slippers sat in an easy-chair at his fireside. On the wide, open hearth logs of wood burnt and crackled cheerfully, throwing out showers of sparks when they were touched. Opposite to Don Alfonso, in another easy-chair, sat Don Carlos Evaña, holding in his hand a tea-cup which had just been refilled for him by the small white hands of Magdalen Miranda, who sat near to him at a round table, in the centre of which hissed a huge brown urn. At the far side of this table, with the urn between him and the fire, sat Marcelino Ponce de Leon, holding a silver tea-pot under the spout of the urn, while Magdalen with her hand on the tap let just so much water run into it as she judged sufficient for one more cup of tea. "You did not tell us anything about that, Don Marcelino," said Magdalen. "No," replied Marcelino, looking across the table at Don Alfonso. "Don Carlos, you see, trusts us more than you do," replied the young lady, with a slight toss of her head. "It is not want of trust that kept me silent. But secrecy implies danger; to admit you to the secret admits you to the danger also." "Among sixty! Did you not say there were sixty, Don Carlos?" asked Magdalen. "Yes; and the secret of sixty is not much of a secret," answered Evaña.