f native despots. What is there in the empty title of _independence_,
without peace, without liberty? After all, patriotism in its ordinary
sense is but a doubtful virtue--perhaps nearer to a crime! It will one
day appear so; one day in the far future it will be supplanted by a
virtue of higher order--the patriotism that knows no boundaries of
nations, but whose _country_ is the whole earth. That, however, would
_not_ be "patriotism!"

Was Don Ramon de Vargas a patriot in this sense--a man of progress, who
cared not that the _name_ of "Mexico" should be blotted from the map, so
long as peace and prosperity should be given to his country under
another name? Was Don Ramon one of these? It might be. There were
many such in Mexico at that time, and these principally of the class to
which Senor de Vargas belonged--the _ricos_, or proprietors. It is easy
enough to explain why the Ayankieados were of the class of ricos.

Perhaps the affection of Don Ramon for the American cause had less lofty
motives; perhaps the five thousand beeves may have had something to do
with it? Whether or no, I could not tell; nor did I stay to consider.
I only reflected upon the matter at all as offering an explanation to
the ambiguous phrase now twice used by his fair daughter--"We fear our
_friends_ more than our _foes_." On either supposition, the meaning was
clear.

What followed was far from being equally perspicuous. _A guest in the
house dreaded by her father_? Here was mystery indeed. Who could that
guest be?--who but _Ijurra_?

But Ijurra was her cousin--she had said so. If a cousin, why should he
be dreaded? Was there still another guest in the house? That might be:
I had not been inside to see. The mansion was large enough to
accommodate another--half a score of others. For all that, my thoughts
constantly turned upon Ijurra, why I know not, but I could not resist
the belief that he was the person pointed at--the guest that was
"dreaded!"

The behaviour which I had noticed on the day before--the first and only
time I had ever seen the man--his angry speech and looks addressed to
Isolina--her apparent fear of him: these it was, no doubt, that guided
my instincts; and I at length came to the conviction that he was the
fiend dreaded by Don Ramon. And she too feared him! "God grant she do
not also _love_ him!"

Such was my mental ejaculation, as I passed on to consider the closing
sentences of the hastily written no