lling on the
Spaniards. Henceforth it is yours, for there is no other woman in the
world so tender and so brave, and I say it again, Otomie, my wife, I
love you. Our blood has mingled on the stone of sacrifice and there
we kissed; let these be our marriage rites. Perhaps I have not long to
live, but till I die I am yours, Otomie my wife.'

Thus I spoke from the fulness of my heart, for my strength and courage
were shattered, horror and loneliness had taken hold of me. But two
things were left to me in the world, my trust in Providence and the love
of this woman, who had dared so much for me. Therefore I forgot my
troth and clung to her as a child clings to its mother. Doubtless it was
wrong, but I will be bold to say that few men so placed would have acted
otherwise. Moreover, I could not take back the fateful words that I had
spoken on the stone of sacrifice. When I said them I was expecting death
indeed, but to renounce them now that its shadow was lifted from me, if
only for a little while, would have been the act of a coward. For good
or evil I had given myself to Montezuma's daughter, and I must abide by
it or be shamed. Still such was the nobleness of this Indian lady that
even then she would not take me at my word. For a little while she stood
smiling sadly and drawing a lock of her long hair through the hollow of
her hand. Then she spoke:

'You are not yourself, Teule, and I should be base indeed if I made so
solemn a compact with one who does not know what he sells. Yonder on the
altar and in a moment of death you said that you loved me, and doubtless
it was true. But now you have come back to life, and say, lord, who set
that golden ring upon your hand and what is written in its circle?
Yet even if the words are true that you have spoken and you love me a
little, there is one across the sea whom you love better. That I could
bear, for my heart is fixed on you alone among men, and at the least you
would be kind to me, and I should move in the sunlight of your presence.
But having known the light, I cannot live to wander in the darkness. You
do not understand. I will tell you what I fear. I fear that if--if we
were wed, you would weary of me as men do, and that memory would grow
too strong for you. Then by and by it might be possible for you to find
your way back across the waters to your own land and your own love, and
so you would desert me, Teule. This is what I could not bear, Teule.
I can forego you now, a