ountry was poor and rugged, and though we
defied the Spaniards and paid them no tribute, now that Cortes had gone
back to Spain, they had no heart to attempt our conquest. Save some few
tribes that lived in difficult places like ourselves, all Anahuac was
in their power, and there was little to gain except hard blows in the
bringing of a remnant of the people of the Otomie beneath their yoke, so
they let us be till a more convenient season. I say of a remnant of the
Otomie, for as time went on many clans submitted to the Spaniards, till
at length we ruled over the City of Pines alone and some leagues of
territory about it. Indeed it was only love for Otomie and respect for
the shadow of her ancient race and name, together with some reverence
for me as one of the unconquerable white men, and for my skill as a
general, that kept our following together.

And now it may be asked was I happy in those years? I had much to make
me happy--no man could have been blessed with a wife more beautiful and
loving, nor one who had exampled her affection by more signal deeds of
sacrifice. This woman of her own free will had lain by my side on the
stone of slaughter; overriding the instincts of her sex she had not
shrunk from dipping her hands in blood to secure my safety, her wit had
rescued me in many a trouble, her love had consoled me in many a sorrow:
surely therefore if gratitude can conquer the heart of man, mine should
have been at her feet for ever and a day, and so indeed it was, and in a
sense is still. But can gratitude, can love itself, or any passion that
rules our souls, make a man forget the house where he was born? Could
I, an Indian chief struggling with a fallen people against an inevitable
destiny, forget my youth and all its hopes and fears, could I forget the
valley of the Waveney and that Flower who dwelt therein, and forsworn
though I might be, could I forget the oath that I once had sworn? Chance
had been against me, circumstances overpowered me, and I think that
there are few who, could they read this story, would not find in it
excuse for all that I had done. Certainly there are very few who,
standing where I stood, surrounded as I was by doubts, difficulties, and
dangers, would not have acted as I did.

And yet memory would rise up against me, and time upon time I would lie
awake at night, even by the side of Otomie, and remember and repent,
if a man may repent of that over which he has no control. For I was a