There was a moment's silence, during which the Captain studied the Negro's noble face, his black flashing eye, which glistened with boldness and honour; and he asked himself whether such a man could be a traitor? Quoniam seemed to read his thoughts, for he said to him, as he laid his hand on the Canadian's shoulder-- "If I had intended to betray; you, it would have been done ere now. Trust to me, Captain; I owe my life to Tranquil. I almost witnessed the birth of the maiden you wish to save. My friendship and gratitude answer to you for my fidelity. Let us start." And without saying anything further, he placed himself at the head of the band, which followed him along a hollow way that ran between two hills. While the incidents we have just described were taking place on the beach, two persons, male and female, seated in a room, modestly, though comfortably, furnished, were holding a conversation, which, judging from the angry expression of their faces, seemed to be most stormy. These two persons were Carmela and the White Scalper. Carmela was half reclining in a hammock; she was pale and suffering, her features were worn, and her red eyes showed that she had been weeping. The White Scalper, dressed in the magnificent costume of a Mexican Campesino, was walking up and down the room, champing his grey moustaches, and angrily clanking his heavy silver spurs on the floor. "Take care, Carmela!" he said, as he suddenly halted in front of the young woman, "you know that I crush all who resist me. For the last time I ask you: Will you tell me the reason of your constant refusals?" "What good to tell you?" she answered, sadly, "for you would not understand me." "Oh! This woman will drive me mad," he exclaimed, clenching his fists. "What have I done, now?" Carmela asked with ironical surprise. "Nothing, nothing," he answered, as he resumed his hurried walk. Then at the end of a moment, he returned to the maid and said, "You hate me then?" Carmela replied by shrugging her shoulders, and turning away from him. "Speak!" he said, seizing her arm, and squeezing it fiercely in his powerful hand. Carmela liberated herself from his grasp, and said bitterly: "I fancied that since you left the western prairies, you contented yourself with ordering your slaves to torture your victims, and did not descend to the part of hangman." "Oh!" he said, furiously. "Come," she continued, "this farce wearies me, so let us bring it to a finale. I know you too well now, not to be aware that you would not hesitate to proceed to odious extremities, if I would not submit to your wishes. Since you insist on it, I will explain my thoughts to you." Drawing herself up to her full height, and fixing on him a bright and challenging glance, she continued in a firm and distinct voice-- "You ask me if I hate you? No, I do not hate you, I despise you!" "Silence, wretched girl!"