that ghastly image.

"Head of my venerable and beloved father!" said he, "I swear by your
grey hairs, crimsoned with your own blood, to use every effort in my
power, by sword and by fire, to nip in the bud this accursed
insurrection--one of whose first acts has been to rob you of your
innocent life. May God give me strength to fulfil my vow!"

At that moment a voice from within seemed to whisper in his ear,
repeating the words of his mistress:--

"_May all those who raise an arm in favour of Spain be branded with
infamy and disgrace! May they find neither a roof to shelter them, nor
a woman to smile upon them! May the contempt of those they love be the
reward of every traitor to his country_!"

Almost the instant after, another voice replied--"_Do your duty, no
matter what may be the result_." In presence of the mutilated remains
of his father, the son hearkened only to the latter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The moon had been long up before Don Rafael finished the melancholy task
of digging a grave. In this he respectfully placed the headless corpse,
and laid the head beside it in its proper position. Then, drawing from
his bosom the long plait of Gertrudis' hair, and taking from his
shoulders the embroidered sun-scarf, with like respectful manner, he
deposited these two love-tokens alongside the honoured remains of his
father.

Convulsed with grief, he threw in the earth, burying in one grave the
dearest _souvenirs_ of his life.

It was not without difficulty that he could withdraw himself from a spot
thus doubly consecrated by filial piety and love; and for a long while
he stood sorrowing over the grave.

In fine, new thoughts coursing through his bosom aroused him to action;
and, leaping into his saddle, he spurred his steed into a gallop, taking
the road that conducted to the capital of Oajaca.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE ILLUSTRIOUS MORELOS.

Little more than twelve months after its first breaking out--that is,
about the close of the year 1811--the Mexican revolution might have been
compared to one of those great fires of the American prairies, whose
destructive range has been checked by the hand of man. In vain the
flames jet out on all sides, seeking fresh element. A wide space has
been cleared around them. Soon the crackling of the large trees, and
the hiss of the burning grass, cease to be heard; and the whole plain
becomes enveloped un