her in
an agony of suspense, let Stewart start upon that terrible walk in
ignorance of his freedom. It was the motive of a Spaniard. Suddenly
Madeline had a horrible quaking fear that Montes lied, that he meant her
to be a witness of Stewart's execution. But no, the man was honest;
he was only barbarous. He would satisfy certain instincts of his
nature--sentiment, romance, cruelty--by starting Stewart upon that walk,
by watching Stewart's actions in the face of seeming death, by seeing
Madeline's agony of doubt, fear, pity, love. Almost Madeline felt that
she could not endure the situation. She was weak and tottering.

"Senora! Ah, it will be one beautiful thing!" Montes caught the scarf
from the rebel's hand. He was glowing, passionate; his eyes had a
strange, soft, cold flash; his voice was low, intense. He was living
something splendid to him. "I'll wave the scarf, Senora. That will be
the signal. It will be seen down at the other end of the road. Senor
Stewart's jailer will see the signal, take off Stewart's irons, release
him, open the door for his walk. Stewart will be free. But he will not
know. He will expect death. As he is a brave man, he will face it. He
will walk this way. Every step of that walk he will expect to be shot
from some unknown quarter. But he will not be afraid. Senora, I have
seen El Captain fighting in the field. What is death to him? Ah, will it
not be magnificent to see him come forth--to walk down? Senora, you will
see what a man he is. All the way he will expect cold, swift death. Here
at this end of the road he will meet his beautiful lady!"

"Is there no--no possibility of a mistake?" faltered Madeline.

"None. My order included unloading of rifles."

"Don Carlos?"

"He is in irons, and must answer to General Salazar," replied Montes.

Madeline looked down the deserted road. How strange to see the last
ruddy glow of the sun over the brow of the mountain range! The thought
of that sunset had been torture for her. Yet it had passed, and now the
afterlights were luminous, beautiful, prophetic.

With a heart stricken by both joy and agony, she saw Montes wave the
scarf.

Then she waited. No change manifested itself down the length of that
lonely road. There was absolute silence in the room behind her. How
terribly, infinitely long seemed the waiting! Never in all her future
life would she forget the quaint pink, blue, and white walled houses
with their colored roofs. That dusty bar