ingly, all the treasures of your
youth--a thousand times more precious than those of the Golden Valley.
I did not intend it should be so, and it is I who have been selfish, and
not generous, for if you had died of grief, I should have died also."

"What do you mean?" cried Fabian.

"What I say, child. Who watched over your slumbers during long nights,
to hear from your lips the secret wishes of your heart? It was I, who
determined to accompany to this spot, Gayferos, whom at your
intercession I saved from the hands of the Apaches. Who sent him to
seek this beautiful and gracious lady, and learn if in her heart, she
still treasured your memory? It was I still, my child, for your
happiness is a thousand times more precious than mine. Who persuaded
you to make this last trial? It was still I, my child, who knew that
you must succumb to it. To-morrow I had said to you, I will accept your
sacrifice; but Gayferos had even then read the most secret pages of this
lady's heart. Why do you ask my pardon, when I tell you it is I, who
should ask yours?"

The Canadian, as he finished these words, opened his arms to Fabian, who
eagerly rushed into his embrace.

"Oh, my father," cried he, "so much happiness frightens me, for never
was man happier than I."

"Grief will come when God wills it," said the Canadian, solemnly.

"But you, what will become of you?" asked Fabian, anxiously. "Your loss
will be to me the only bitterness in my full cup of joy."

"As God wills, my child," answered the Canadian. "It is true, I cannot
live in cities, but this dwelling, which will be yours, is on the
borders of the desert. Does not infinity surround me here? I shall
build with Pepe--Ho, Pepe," said the hunter in a loud voice, "come and
ratify my promise."

Pepe and Gayferos came forward at the hunter's summons.

"I and Pepe," he continued, "will build a hut of the trunks and bark of
trees upon the spot of ground where I found you again. We shall not
always be at home, it is true, but perhaps some time hence should you
wish to claim the name and fortune of your ancestors in Spain, you will
find two friends ready to follow you to the end of the world. Come, my
Fabian, I have no doubt that I shall be even happier than you, for I
shall experience a double bliss in my happiness and yours."

But why dwell longer upon such scenes? happiness is so transitory and
impalpable that it will not bear either analysis or description.

"The