"Yes," he answered simply, "such is my object; and believe me, señorita, all that a man can do, I will." "What," Doña Emilia asked, "are you alone?" "Alas, yes; but what matter?" Doña Diana fell back on her bed. "Flight is impossible," she murmured with despair. "Why so?" the young man continued boldly, "Have I not contrived to get in here alone?" She shook her head sadly. "Yes," she said; "but you were alone." Don Melchior sighed, for he understood the meaning of the remark. "Why despair?" Doña Emilia exclaimed, starting up impetuously. "We are three now. The Indians tremble at the sight of me, and we shall succeed in escaping." "Mother, mother," the girl said entreatingly, "dismiss that thought. Alas! Flight is impossible, as you know well. Melchior is as well aware of it as we are." The young man hung his head. "If I cannot save you, señorita," he answered, "I can die with you." "Die with us!" she exclaimed impetuously. "Oh no, that must not be, I insist." "It was my hope in coming here," he said. "Very good, Melchior," Doña Emilia said; "but cease to fear for us. The Indians will not dare, I feel firmly convinced, to make an attack on our lives, in spite of their frightful threats." "Mother, undeceive yourself, our death is resolved. It is close at hand, for the conditions offered us compel us to die." "That is true," Doña Emilia murmured despondingly. "Great God, what is to be done?" "Fly," Don Melchior exclaimed boldly. "No," the young lady continued, "the plan is impracticable, and it would be madness to dwell on it. If you have reached us by a miracle, it is impossible for you to convey us through the Indian camp and pass the sentries unseen. It would be precipitating our death instead of checking it." "It is well, señorita," Don Melchior said, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "Since you refuse to attempt to fly, I shall come back to my first resolution." "What is it?" "To die with you." The young lady took a step forward, and turned to Doña Emilia. "Do you hear, mother?" she exclaimed in agony. "Do you hear what Don Melchior says? I will not have him die. Order him to go away." "Why should I order him?" Doña Emilia coldly replied. "Don Melchior has ever been devoted to us. He has come to die with us, and neither you nor I have the right to prevent him." "I must, I tell you, I must." "And why so, my child?" "Why?" she repeated, wild with grief. "Because, mother, I love him, and will not have him die!" Doña Emilia stood for a moment as if annihilated by the sudden revelation of this love, which she suspected, though unwilling to believe in it. A reaction took place in her, and she laid her hand on the young man's arm. "Go, Don Melchior," she said in a gentle voice, half choked by sobs. "My daughter loves you, and will not have you die." "Thanks, thanks, mother!" the maiden exclaimed, as she fell into her arms, and hid her face in her bosom.