nug as his new berth promises to be, he would rather lose it than
fail to deliver that letter.

And in ten minutes after, he has passed through the suburbs of the town,
and is hastening along the shore-road, towards the house of Don Gregorio
Montijo.

CHAPTER FORTY.

DREADING A "DESAFIO."

Once more upon the _azotea_ stand Carmen Montijo and Inez Alvarez.

It is the morning of the day succeeding that made sacred by their
betrothal. Their eyes are upon the huge warship, that holds the men who
holds their hearts, with promise of their hands--in short, every hope of
their life's happiness.

They could be happy now, but for an apprehension which oppresses them--
causing them keen anxiety. Yesterday, with its scenes of pleasureable
excitement, had also its incidents of the opposite kind; the remembrance
of which too vividly remains, and is not to be got rid of. The
encounter between the gamblers and their lovers cannot end with that
episode, to which they were themselves witness. Something more will
surely come from it.

And what will this something be? What should it? What could it, but a
_desafio_--a duel?

However brave on yester-morn the two senoritas were, or pretended to be,
however regardless of consequences, it is different to-day. The
circumstances have changed. Then, their sweethearts were only suitors.
Now, they are affianced, still standing in the relationship of lovers,
but with ties more firmly, if not more tenderly, united. For are they
not now their own.

Of the two girls, Inez is less anxious than the aunt, having less cause
to be. With the observant intelligence of woman, she has long since
seen that Calderon is a coward, and for this reason has but little
belief he will fight. With instinct equally keen, Carmen knows De Lara
well. After his terrible humiliation, he is not the man to shrink away
out of sight. Blackleg though he be, he possesses courage--perhaps the
only quality he has deserving of admiration. Once, she herself admired
the quality, if not the man! That remembrance itself makes her fear
what may come.

She talks in serious tone, discussing with her niece the probabilities
of what may arise. The delirious joy of yester-eve--of that hour when
she sat in her saddle, looking over the ocean, and listening to the
sweet words of love--is to-day succeeded by depression, almost
despondency.

While conversing, she has her eyes upon the bay, watching the boats
that, a