narrow
street. The senora walked proudly back to the mansion whence she had
come, her countenance radiant with joyful anticipation.

As soon as she had entered the house she proceeded directly to her own
chamber, and, opening the little folded slip of paper, read:--

"Querida Catalina!--You have made me happy. But an hour ago I was the
most wretched of men. I have lost my sister, and I feared your esteem.
Both are restored to me. My sister is by my side, and the gem that
sparkles on my finger tells me that even calumny has failed to rob me of
your friendship--your love. _You_ do not deem me an assassin. No; nor
am I one. I have been an avenger, but no assassin. You shall know
all--the fearful plot of which I and mine have been the victims. It is
scarce credible--so great is its atrocity! I am indeed its victim. I
can no more show myself in the settlement. I am henceforth to be hunted
like the wolf, and treated as one, if captured. I care not for that, so
long as I know that you are not among my enemies.

"But for you I should go far hence. I cannot leave you. I would sooner
risk life every hour in the day, than exile myself from the spot where
you dwell--you, the only being I can ever love.

"I have kissed the gem a hundred times. In life, the sweet token can
never part from me.

"My foes are after me like bloodhounds, but I fear them not. My brave
steed is never out of my sight, and with him I can scorn my cowardly
pursuers. But I must venture one visit to the town. I must see you
once, querida. I have words for you I cannot trust to paper. Do not
refuse to see me, and I shall come to the old place of meeting.
To-morrow night--midnight. Do not refuse me, dearest love. I have much
to explain that I cannot without seeing you face to face. You shall
know that I am not an assassin--that I am still worthy of being your
lover.

"Thanks!--thanks for your kindness to my poor little wounded bird! I
trust to God she will soon be well again. _Mi querida. Adios_!"

When the beautiful lady had finished reading the note, she pressed it to
her lips, and fervently kissed it.

"Worthy of being my lover!" she murmured; "ay, worthy to be the lover of
a queen! Brave, noble Carlos!"

Again she kissed the paper, and, thrusting it into her bosom, glided
softly from the apartment.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

Vizcarra's desire for revenge grew stronger every hour. The almost
joyful reaction he had experi