in Moncrieff's
position, the whole year was a singularly successful one. Nor had my
brothers nor I and the other settlers any occasion to complain, and our
prospects began to be very bright indeed.

Nor did the future belie the present, for ere another year had rolled over
our heads we found ourselves in a fair way to fortune. We felt by this
time that we were indeed old residents. We were thoroughly acclimatized:
healthy, hardy, and brown. In age we were, some would say, mere lads; in
experience we were already men.

Our letters from home continued to be of the most cheering description,
with the exception of Townley's to aunt. He had made little if any
progress in his quest. Not that he despaired. Duncan M'Rae was still
absent, but sooner or later--so Townley believed--poverty would bring him
to bay, and _then_--

Nothing of this did my aunt tell me at the time. I remained in blissful
ignorance of anything and everything that our old tutor had done or was
doing.

True, the events of that unfortunate evening at the old ruin sometimes
arose in my mind to haunt me. My greatest sorrow was my being bound down
by oath to keep what seemed to me the secret of a villain--a secret that
had deprived our family of the estates of Coila, had deprived my
parents--yes, that was the hard and painful part. For, strange as it may
appear, I cared nothing for myself. So enamoured had I become of our new
home in the Silver West, that I felt but little longing to return to the
comparative bleakness and desolation of even Scottish Highland scenery. I
must not be considered unpatriotic on this account, or if there was a
decay of patriotism in my heart, the fascinating climate of Mendoza was to
blame for it. I could not help feeling at times that I had eaten the
lotus-leaf. Had we not everything that the heart of young men could
desire? On my own account, therefore, I felt no desire to turn the good
soldier M'Rae away from Coila, and as for Irene--as for bringing a tear to
the eyes of that beautiful and engaging girl, I would rather, I thought,
that the dark waters of the laguna should close over my head for ever.

Besides, dear father was happy. His letters told me that. He had even come
to like his city life, and he never wrote a word about Coila.

Still, the oath--the oath that bound me! It was a dark spot in my
existence.

_Did_ it bind me? I remember thinking that question over one day. Could an
oath forced upon any one be binding