iburcio, with a solemn gesture.

"Upon this, the dying woman placed in the hands of the young man a piece
of paper, upon which Arellanos, before leaving his home for the last
time, had traced the route of his intended journey.

"`With the treasure which that paper will enable you to find,' continued
the dying woman, `you will have gold enough to corrupt the daughter of a
viceroy, if you wish it. Meanwhile, my child, leave me for a while to
confess to this holy man: a son should not always hear the confession of
his mother.'"

The monk, in a few more words, related the closing scene of the widow's
death, and then finished by saying:--

"Now, Don Augustin, you perceive my reason for saying that this young
fellow, whatever may be his family, is not the less likely to make a
good match for the Dona Rosarita."

"I agree with you," responded the haciendado; "but, as I have said to
you, my word is given to Don Estevan de Arechiza."

"What!" exclaimed the monk, "this Spaniard to be your son-in-law!"

Don Augustin smiled mysteriously as he replied:--

"He! no, good Fray Jose, not he, but another. Don Estevan does not wish
this alliance."

"Caspita!" exclaimed the monk. "Does he think it beneath him?"

"It may be he has the right to think so," added Don Augustin, again
smiling mysteriously.

"But who is this man?" inquired the monk, with an air of surprise.

Just as Don Augustin was about to reply, a servant entered the _sala_.

"Senor Don Augustin," said the servant, "there are two travellers at the
gate, who beg of you to give them a night's lodging. One of them says
that he is known to you."

"Bid them welcome!" replied the haciendado, "and let them enter.
Whether they are known to me or not, two guests more or less will be
nothing here."

A few seconds after, the two travellers had advanced to the foot of the
stone stairway, where they stood awaiting the presence of the master of
the house.

One of them was a man of about thirty years of age--whose open
countenance and high forehead denoted courage, combined with
intelligence. His figure presented an appearance of strength and
vigorous activity, and he was somewhat elegantly dressed--though without
any signs of foppery.

"Ah! is it you, Pedro Diaz?" cried Don Augustin, recognising him. "Are
there any Indians to be exterminated, since I find you coming into these
solitudes of ours?"

Pedro Diaz was, in truth, known as the most celebrated hater and