another proof of
happiness, is it not?"

"Of happiness!" repeated Rosarita, bitterly. "Oh! no, no, my father!"

Don Augustin was now more puzzled than ever; for, as he himself alleged,
his life had been spent more in studying the artifices of Indians, with
whom he had long disputed his domain, than in diving into the hearts of
women.

"Oh, my father!" cried Rosarita, "this marriage would now prove a
sentence of death to your poor child!"

At this sudden declaration, which he had not expected, Don Augustin was
quite stupefied, and it was with difficulty he subdued the anger to
which it had given rise.

"What!" he cried with some warmth, "did you not yourself consent to this
marriage only a month ago? Did you not agree that it should be
consummated when we knew that Don Estevan could not return? He is dead;
what then do you wish?"

"It is true, father; I did fix that period, but--"

"Well!"

"But I did not know that he still lived."

"Don Antonio de Mediana?"

"No; Don Fabian de Mediana," replied Rosarita, in a low voice.

"Don Fabian? who is this Fabian of whom you speak?"

"He whom we called Tiburcio Arellanos."

Don Augustin remained mute with surprise: his daughter took advantage of
his silence.

"When I consented to this marriage," said she, "I believed that Don
Fabian was forever lost to us. I did not know that he still loved me;
and yet--consider whether I do not love you, my father; consider what a
grievous sacrifice I made in my affection for you--I knew well--"

As she spoke these words--her eyes moist with tears, yet shining with
their own sweet lustre--the poor girl approached, and, by a sudden
impulse, threw herself upon her father's shoulder to hide her rising
blushes.

"I knew then that I loved him only," she murmured.

"But of whom do you speak?"

"Of Tiburcio Arellanos--of the Count Fabian de Mediana--they are one and
the same person."

"Of the Count Mediana?" repeated Don Augustin.

"Yes," cried Rosarita, passionately; "I still love in him Tiburcio
Arellanos, however noble, powerful, and rich may be at this hour Count
Fabian de Mediana."

Noble, powerful, and rich, are words that sound well in the ear of an
ambitious father, when applied to a young man whom he loves and esteems,
but whom he believes to be poor. Tiburcio Arellanos would have met with
a refusal from Don Augustin--softened, it is true, by affectionate
words--but had not Fabian de Mediana a better chance of