The young gentleman led his sister to an easy chair, fetched one for himself, rolled it up to her side, and sat down. "At last," she said a moment later, in an affectionate voice, as she took one of the young man's hands in her own, "I see you again, brother; you are here, near me--how glad I am to see you." "My dear Clara," Don Sancho replied, as he kissed her forehead, "we have been separated for nearly a year." "Alas!" she murmured. "And during that year many things have doubtless happened, of which you will inform me?" "Alas! My life during this year may be summed up in two words--I have suffered." "Poor sister, how changed you are in so little time, I could hardly recognize you; I came to St. Domingo with such joy, and no sooner had I landed than I went to your palace; your husband, who has not altered, and whom I found as heavy and silent as usual, with an increased dose of importance, doubtless the result of his high position, told me that you were not very well, and that the physicians had ordered you country air." "It is true," she said, with a sad smile. "Yes; but I fancied you merely indisposed, and I find you dying." "Let us not talk of that, Sancho, I implore you; what matter if I am ill? Did you receive my letter?" "Had I not, should I be here? Two hours after its receipt I set out; for three days," he continued with a smile, "I have been going uphill and down dale, along frightful roads, to reach you the sooner." "Thanks, oh thanks, Sancho; your presence renders me very happy--you will remain for a while with me, will you not?" "As long as you like, dear sister, for I am a free man." "Free!" she repeated, looking at him with an air of amazement. "Well, yes; his Excellency, the Duc de Peñaflor, my illustrious father and yours, the Viceroy of New Spain, has deigned to grant me an unlimited leave." At her father's name a slight shudder ran over the young lady's person, and her eyes became dimmed with tears. "Ah," she said, "my father is well?" "Better than ever." "And has he spoken about me?" The young man bit his lips. "He spoke to me about you very little," he said; "but I in revenge, said a good deal about you, which re-established the balance: I even believe that he granted me the leave I asked in great measure to free himself from my chattering." Doña Clara hung her head without replying, and her brother fixed upon her a glance full of tender pity. "Let us talk about yourself," he said. "No, no, Sancho; we had better talk about _him_." she replied hesitatingly. "Of _him!_" he said in a hollow voice, and with a groan; "Alas, poor sister, what can I tell you? All my efforts have been vain; I have discovered nothing." "Yes, yes;" she murmured, "his measures were well taken to make him disappear. Oh, Heaven! Heaven!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands wildly, "Will you not take pity on me?"