A scamper into the Camp of Buenos Ayres is one of the greatest treats
that the citizens of that town can enjoy. True, there is nothing to
interest you in the scenery, nothing to admire in the goodness of the
roads, and nothing to guide you in your journey but trees; still there
is an indefinable charm in galloping with a good horse and a lively
companion over the boundless green plain. With “the blue above” and “the
green below” you rove free and unconfined--the fresh balmy air
revivifying the blood which the rapid and easy motion sends thrilling
through the whole frame. You feel etherialized. Without bounds to your
progress or your prospects, away you go. No trace of art here to mar the
simplicity of nature. The Arabs never were and never will be slaves, and
now you are the Arabs of the plains--hurrah! hurrah!
Tom Thorne and Richard Griffin appeared to consider themselves as Arabs
of the plain, calculating from the rapidity with which they were
scampering over the ground, clearing their way through herds of oxen,
sheep, and horses, with long whips and loud huzzas.
“Where, in the name of Nimrod, are we tearing to, Thorne?” said Griffin
after a pause. “Sure we are out-stripping the wind; for a moment ago it
was in our face, and now it is on our back.”
“We are going to Mendoza’s country-house,” said Thorne, “to have some
bantering with the ladies after our canter, and to let that awkward
scrape of last night blow over, and be laughed at before I go back.--You
have never been in the Camp before?” inquired Thorne.
“Never.”
“Then you have a great pleasure before you. A few days in the Camp
refreshes one like a month’s sea-bathing. The air is so fresh, and every
thing wears such a simple holiday aspect that it almost makes you forget
that you are a sinner, and throw off bad habits, rise with the lark,
drink milk, marry a wife, and become a patriarch.”
“Well done, Thorne! and so it may yet.”
“Then, you can ride and dance without getting weary, drink without
getting seedy, and eat innumerable beef-steaks for breakfast without
mustard; nay, you can even relish water without brandy, and sleep
without cigars.”
“Love and beef, Thorne, _versus_ cigars and brandy. You alternate
between town and country till you resemble a rich rowley-powley pudding,
solids and sweets, revolving round and round each other, making a most
delicious _tout-en-semble_.”
While our friends thus talk and canter to the place of their
destination, let us take the liberty of introducing ourselves.
The house of Louis Mendoza was situated on a rising ground on the banks
of the “River,” of which it commanded a beautiful prospect. There was a
large garden attached to it, adorned with all the flowers which the
country produced, most of them at that season in the full bloom and
vigour of spring. Fruit-trees, both of the northern and southern
hemisphere, from the tropic and temperate zones, diffused sweet perfumes
from their blossoms; and vines, peaches, and orange trees were already
decked with the budding promises of a rich harvest. Summer-houses were
there, woven into shape with creepers and ever-greens. Birds of the
tropics, in large aviaries, nearly invisible from being formed of
green-painted wire, lent the splendour of their plumage to enrich a
scene which the songsters of the air delighted to enliven with their
music.
Beware of that garden, Tom Thorne, in the evenings when your heart is
soft. Ride not with the ladies over that velvet lawn when the flush of
the morning’s sun is reflected from their lovely faces, Tom Thorne. You
are lost to the bachelor world for ever, Tom, if you be seduced to
wander through these lovely woods with the ringlets of Anita Mendoza
playing round your manly shoulder; and as for the summer-houses, if ever
you enter them let it be with a book or a cigar only; mind that, Tom,
mind that. Anita Mendoza might be sixteen or seventeen, Mariquita
eighteen or nineteen; both were beautiful, and possessed of all the
graces and accomplishments of the country. The contour of the features,
of Mariquita might be more regularly beautiful than that of Anita. She
was more of a _blonde_, too; her eye was beautiful and bright, her
figure graceful and elegant, but still it would strike you that you had
seen others as fair and graceful. She was a beauty; of that there was no
doubt, but a beauty too much resembling the style of her sister, to bear
a favourable contrast with her, and yet not sufficiently distinct to
establish a separate and independent claim. But how shall we describe
Anita Mendoza? She was the mistress of grace and elegance, for they
followed her every step and attended her every movement; you were a
slave at her mercy the moment you saw that dark black liquid eye,
whether it beamed in kindness, flashed in raillery, melted in sympathy,
or sparkled with delight from under its long dark dangerous eyelashes.
To be in the presence of Anita Mendoza was to be in an enchanted circle.
When that eye was upon you, your own identity was lost; your soul was
lit up by the beams that flashed from that magic eye, and rays of love
or envy, mirth or folly, were reflected back to the source from which
they sprang. Let none despise the theory of animal magnetism; beside
Anita Mendoza, your heart throbbed, your pulse played, and your soul
thought in unison with hers. Such were your feelings when under the
influence of the syren, but only then; for well you knew that that eye
flashed or melted, and that smile played and that lip pouted, as
brightly and pertly, for others, one and all, as for your own dear
envious self. Beside her, she was your queen and empress; away, she was
a little minx, a sweet little flirt. To sum up, in dancing she was a
fairy, in singing a cherub, and far or near an enchanting, bewitching
creature.
Luis Mendoza, the father of these ladies, was a rare old Spaniard. He
had travelled a good deal in Europe, especially in England, where he had
acquired not only some knowledge of the language but also a predilection
for its convivial habits; and brandy and water had more charms for him
in a cool evening, than _matte_ or _eau sucrée_. He had early lost his
helpmate, and, freed from this check on his convivial habits, it
required little encouragement on his part to keep his house constantly
full of _bon vivants_ to assist him at the duties of the table, and
gallants to amuse his daughters in the sala; and more of his gallants
and _bon vivants_ were to be found among the Anglo-Saxons than among the
natives. Thus were Mariquita and Anita Mendoza accustomed from their
earliest years to the language of adulation; and from having the duties
of a household thus early thrust upon each, there was less of maidenly
reserve, a little more of maidenly coquetry, with a dash more of
masculine character, than in other circumstances would have been
becoming at such tender years.
These ladies were seated alone in an elegantly fitted up sala, the elder
busy with her needle at some fancy work, and the other idly and
listlessly hurrying her soft white little dimpled fingers over the keys
of a rich-toned piano--to a well-known air in South America, the words
of which imply that the singer never, never, never will get married--
“No no no no quiero,
No quiero casarme
Es mejor, es mejor,
Ser soltéra
Siempre paseandera
Del mundo
Del mundo gozar.
Amantes amantes
Constantes se encuentran
Muy pocos al dia
Con cara tan fresca
Como una violéta
Y con ojos tan
Brillantes a mi gusto.
“Well, Mariquita,” said the young lady, throwing aside the music, “I
admire the patience you can bestow upon that endless sampler, when you
must feel as tired and exhausted as I am.”
“Of course, Anita, after that ball, sampler work is rather tame and
tedious; but what shall we do?”
“I am afraid we shall have nobody out here to-day,” said Anita, with a
kind of suppressed yawn.
“I see how it is, Anita; you are wearying already for even a languid
compliment to those flashing eyes of yours.”
“Depend upon it, Mariquita, that my eyes could stand no comparison to
your lips with any man of taste.”
“How did you relish Bruin’s hugs last night?” retorted the elder.
“Oh, the dear Bruin! I could not forbear hugging him now in return, were
he here to enliven us. And _gracias a Dios_, here he is!”
Scarcely were the words uttered, when the portly person and beaming face
of Tom Thorne stood before them.
“Welcome, welcome! Mr Thorne,” said Mariquita. “Anita has just been
stating that Mr Bruin’s attentions last night were so very pressing that
she considers herself indebted to him a hug in return.”
“Miss Anita shall find Mr Bruin a very pressing creditor for the
liquidation of that debt,” said our hero, advancing towards her; and in
the full playfulness of their character, both girls seized the gratified
bachelor by the hands as if he had been an overgrown playmate. At this
moment Mr Griffin presented himself, and the ladies hastily, but without
agitation, assumed the attitude of polite and attentive hostesses.
“Permit me, ladies,” said Thorne, “to introduce my friend Mr Griffin,
who I have no doubt regrets not being yet entitled to the warm and frank
reception extended to old friends in the _Camp_ of Buenos Ayres.”
“We are happy to see you in the _Camp_, Mr Griffin,” replied the elder
sister with great courtesy. “We have been longing for some company all
day, and consider ourselves very fortunate in being favoured with a
visit from Mr Thorne, and any friend of his.”
“I consider myself fortunate in being introduced to you by Mr Thorne at
a time when our company promises to be agreeable to you.”
“I hope you are accustomed to our long, and rather fatiguing rides in
the Camp.”
“I assure you, I am amply repaid already, miss, for the fatigue we have
undergone, by the beauty and richness of every thing I see near and
around me,” said Griffin giving a kind of circuitous bow.
“As you are accustomed to the beauty and freshness of the scenery,” said
Mariquita with an arch smile, “may I offer you a glass of your favourite
champagne, Mr Thorne?”
“You are very kind, Señorita, to be so attentive to my favourite tastes.
A glass of champagne will be very refreshing after the ride.”
“Or shall it be your favourite brandy and water?” edged in the little
wicked Anita, with a twinkle in the eye which took away every vestige of
satire that the question might otherwise have implied when addressed to
our hero.
“The brandy and water will be fully as good, Miss Anita,” replied Tom,
“if you would brisk it up with a few sparkles from these eyes of yours.”
“A truce to such bubbles of fancy,” said Mariquita. “Which shall it be,
gentlemen?”
“Mr Thorne or I could be happy with either,” said Griffin; “but pray let
it be champagne, and then we may hope that you will partake.”
“Bravo, bravo, Griffin! champagne be it.”
“Pray, ladies, is not the ‘Patron’ here?”
“Oh yes!” replied Anita, “but he is not likely to be back till late; he
is taking a ride over the chacra with Señor Le Brun.”
An involuntary start escaped Thorne at the mention of that name.
“What ails you, Mr Thorne?” cried Anita.
“Nothing, Anita--nothing. Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting him
this morning already. But I see we have interrupted your amusements at
the piano, which I trust will be renewed after our refreshment.”
That start was not lost upon Anita, though she affected not to notice
it.
Refreshments, music, and gay conversation passed off the time most
pleasantly, until the arrival of Luis Mendoza and his companion.
And now let us leave the merry party to enjoy themselves, and sally out
to introduce ourselves to the old gentleman and his companion.
Felipe Le Brun was a Creole, of about six or eight-and-twenty: his
father a Jerseyman, his mother a native of Buenos Ayres. He was what may
be called a respectable merchant broker, who bought and sold for others
as well as for himself. His knowledge of most European languages, his
activity, intelligence, and business habits were great advantages to him
as a broker, and as such he was extensively employed. Luis Mendoza was
in every respect a different character from Le Brun: the one social to a
fault, the other temperate to a degree. Frankness, honesty, stout
good-heartedness, and aversion to business, were the characteristics of
Mendoza. Le Brun was one of the new-school men of business--sharp,
acute, and active. Mendoza was an extensive landed proprietor, and Le
Brun was the agent through whom all his sales of produce were effected.
It was under Le Brun’s guidance that Mendoza entered into those
investments in which he delighted to believe that he was growing rich;
and so he was, too, as long as Le Brun’s speculations were successful
also. A more acute and careful man of business might perhaps have had
some doubts as to whether or not Le Brun was not trading on Mendoza’s
capital. This, however, was enough to satisfy the old gentleman, that,
whenever his accounts were presented to him, they were always very
flattering, especially in the perspective, and that when he wanted
money, he could have it to any amount from Le Brun, who was thus in a
manner both his agent and his banker: and why should he not be? since it
was all but arranged that he should be his son-in-law. Le Brun had long
paid court to Anita Mendoza; and a more accomplished suitor there was
not to be found within the range of the city. Polite, attentive, and
gallant--scrupulously neat in attire--a perfect master of all the
_petits soins_ of the drawing-room--and expert in all elegant triflings
permissible in the _laisser aller_ of the _sala_, Don Felipe Le Brun
would have been a formidable rival against any worshipper of kid or _eau
de Cologne_, that ever smirked and simpered over a Brussels carpet, and
whose accomplishments were confined to carving a merry-thought, sighing
on a flute, or tenderly composing a sonnet to the shadow or the shoe-tie
of his lady-love. Add to all these accomplishments the recommendation of
a father,[10] and none need be surprised that he was a favoured suitor
of Anita Mendoza.
Such was Don Felipe Le Brun. We have given every characteristic except
that of honesty of principle; and yet there could not have been more
upright, honourable principles than those with which Le Brun first
commenced and flourished in business. He had every requisite, and all
the knowledge necessary for business on the largest and most extensive
scale, and every accomplishment that could adorn the active, and solace
the retired life of a gentleman. And in such uprightness of conduct Le
Brun might, and most probably would, have continued under any ordinary
circumstances. But, alas! his very accomplishments proved his ruin. He
lived under one of the most suspicious, inquisitive, corrupt, and
tyrannical governments that ever existed. The suspicious tyranny of
Buenos Ayres extended even into the private and domestic relationship of
life; and to effect this, spies of every grade and quality were
employed. Now Le Brun, being of foreign extraction, and yet a native
born and bred, moving in good society, being a respectable merchant, and
in a line of business that brought him in daily contact with every
moneyed man in the city, and even made him more or less acquainted with
their means, resources, and transactions, was in every way suited to be
an admirable agent of Rosas; and it was determined that he should be so,
cost what it might in time, money, and political influence. And well the
secret agents of Rosas knew how to lure the ambitious, tempt the
effeminate, force the timid, bribe the sordid, and flatter the vain.
Slow and insidious were the approaches made to undermine the honour of
Le Brun. No difficulty was ever experienced by him in shipping gold or
silver without permits. A passport for a friend in trouble was always at
his command; his goods were the first to pass through the custom-house,
and the first intelligence that could affect paper currency and exchange
was always communicated to Le Brun. Such were some of the substantial
proofs of favour, and still more numerous were the polite attentions
showered on the intended agent of tyranny.
Now, when an individual finds himself thus highly favoured, without any
exertion used, or any return required on his part, he becomes naturally
disinclined to believe any reports to the prejudice of those who treat
him so well; and disposed to attribute the blame more to the complainant
than the party complained of; or, wrapping himself up in his own
selfishness and self-security, to go upon the maxim of “praising the
ford as he finds it.” So it was with Le Brun: from being a passive
supporter of Rosas, he was led on to be his justifier. He had so often
been indebted to the good services of government officials, that he
considered himself indebted to them _personally_, and then
politically--and then--_facilis descensus_--poor Le Brun!
Luis Mendoza had long been an object of avaricious suspicion to the
government. He was rich, fond of foreigners--intelligent. All these were
crimes; and it was known that he held correspondence with the friends of
the enemy, if not with Rivera himself. Be this as it may, he was no
partisan of the government; and the maxim of Rosas is, “those that are
not for me are against me.” Mendoza was a marked man, and Le Brun was
set to mark him; and, observe this, others marked Le Brun. Oh, how he
now loathed his position! the suitor of his intended victim’s
daughter--the friend, the private friend, of the very man whose every
motion he was to watch and _report_--to betray the friend who reposed in
him implicit trust. Can the ingenuity of tyranny go further than this?
Le Brun knew well that Mendoza had held correspondence with the
Unitarian party, who were opposed to Rosas, but this he never reported.
He knew well that Mendoza hated the tyranny and policy of the Federals,
and that the Unitarians expected to find in him a rich and influential
supporter, if ever their party predominated; and this he did report,
because he knew full well the government were aware of it. Thus did Le
Brun seek a middle course, until he almost began to fancy that he was
suspected himself; and thus, thoroughly disgusted with his position, he
determined at last to free himself from his ignominious espionage, give
Mendoza warning of his perilous situation, and, when every thing was
arranged for his escape from the country, he would then take the credit
for giving information, when it would be too late. Thus he would gain
time to arrange his own complicated affairs, seek out Mendoza in his
exile, and fulfil his dearest hopes by marrying Anita Mendoza.
Such was the scheme which Le Brun had formed to extricate himself from
the troubled waters in which he perceived himself beginning to founder;
and in this scheme he would no doubt have succeeded, had not the
accidental incarceration of our honest friend Tom Thorne, and the bold
freedom of his speech before the magistrate, forced him to commence his
scheme at once and prematurely, if he wished to avoid the suspicion of
friends whom he wished to save, or employers whom he wished to deceive.
And with this view, the moment he was free from the presence of the
_juez de paz_, he flew to the _chacra_ of Mendoza.
“And how came you to know of the body that was found opposite my door?”
said Mendoza to Le Brun, as they were riding together.
“Why, sir, Mr Thorne with a friend encountered it on coming from a party
in the evening. They encountered some of--of the ‘_Masorcheros_,’” said
Le Brun, (looking all round him, and whispering the phrase;) “and taking
fright, I suppose, they requested to be taken to the police office for
security; and before the magistrate he told what he had seen.”
“And how happened you to be there?” urged Mendoza.
“Sir,” replied the other, mingling truth and falsehood with great tact,
“I had heard, nay knew, that the government were suspicious of you: the
number of massacres the preceding night alarmed me for your safety.
Making an excuse of a criminal complaint against a servant, I repaired
to the _juez de paz_, to find out, if possible, upon what grounds their
suspicious were founded. Thus we were engaged when Thorne entered.
Whether he heard your name mentioned I know not, but Mr Thorne, sir, is
suspicious of me. Yes, sir, I verily believe that Mr Thorne, in his
jealousy--yes, it must be jealousy of my favour in the eyes of your
daughter, that makes Thorne suspect me. Good God! Mendoza, to what have
I fallen when I should be suspected by an idle, champagne-swilling
babbler, of betraying the man to whom I am so much indebted, who, I may
say, has made me what I am, and who has it in his power to make me happy
or miserable for life. Oh, sir, sir! what a wretched country this is,
when one learns to distrust even their best friends.”
“Come, come, Le Brun, not so bad as that yet. But, Don Felipe, have I
not often told you that you were in too high favour with these
hypocritical cut-throat miscreants in office?”
“And if I have found favour, which I never sought for, have not you
reaped the benefit more than me? What have I to fear from them? I, who
am supposed to be of their party, rat them! Should _your_ skins have
passed the custom-house? Could Mendoza’s gold in Mendoza’s name have
been shipped to invest abroad? Could Mendoza, the Unitarian, have
procured passports for the Unitarian brothers or _compadres_? And now,
sir, at this very moment I am seeking to do for you what you have often
asked me to do for others. That remark of yours, Mendoza, has nearly
driven me distracted.”
“Don Felipe, forgive me! we are too much bound up together for me to
suspect you now. Have you not the promise of my daughter’s hand? have
you not the command of all my means? I believe, I know that I am an
object of suspicion. I know that, at the present time, the miscreants
stand at no obstacles; that my money would be instruments to strengthen
their hands. I know you have saved my friends, and I believe you are
anxious to save me. Forgive me for expressing my sentiments of horror
against those who render it necessary that honest men and quiet citizens
should seek of security at the hands of others.”
“Ay, sir, and these others not only thereby risk their own safety, but
may be branded as traitors for so doing.”
“So, Don Felipe, you think that body on my pavement was a warning for
me?”
“No, Don Luis, it was not intended as a warning for you, but you are
intended for the same fate.”
“You can have no proof of that, Don Felipe.”
“No, Don Luis, I have no _proof_ of that; but those who ordered such
deeds only to inspire terror, will not scruple at higher victims for
greater advantages. Thorne’s bold accusation, I may call it of
indifference or neglect on the part of the magistrate, and the way your
name was alluded to, will protect you from open attack. The prison will
be your first doom--I shudder to think of what may follow. Thorne is a
brave fellow, but he was mad to brave them as he did. There is not a
_Masorchero_ in the city who does not thirst for his blood. Thorne knows
this and defies them. I hate him for his suspicions, but yet, Mendoza, I
admire him--with a hundred men like him, this city would not now be a
nest of cut-throats. Yes,” continued Le Brun, who felt pungently the
whole truth of what he said, “their spies would be ashamed to show their
degraded heads, Masorcheros afraid, ay, afraid to execute the hated
commissions intrusted to them, and an end put to the whole brutal
cowardly system, which none can more detest and deplore than I do. But
to business. To-morrow morning you must come to town; to avoid
suspicion, let there be a small party at the house in the evening. I
return to town to-night I shall busy myself to-night and to-morrow in
having every penny of your capital and debts secured, transferred, or in
some way rendered intangible to your persecutors, and recoverable in
better times to yourself. Stop, stop--don’t interrupt me. As soon as
possible I will arrange my own affairs, and then, my dear sir, I shall
bid adieu to this city, which is now doomed, and join you in your exile,
there to claim the reward of all my exertions in the hand of Anita.
Shall it not be so?--yes or no!--time is precious, time flies?”
“It shall, Le Brun--my hand upon it. Arrange my affairs as best you may,
I rely upon you for every thing.”
“Now, then, let us proceed to the house, and talk slowly over the
details.”
The gay inmates of the house were disturbed in the midst of their mirth
and music by the entrance of a servant, announcing that her father
desired to speak to Señorita Anita.
“Daughter,” said Luis Mendoza, as she entered his presence with a
smiling face, and a courteous bow to Le Brun; “my dearest daughter, I am
sorry to be the bearer of intelligence which will throw a shade of gloom
over your happy face. Are you prepared to hear of sad truths and dismal
forebodings?”
“Yes, dearest father, I am prepared. We are now surrounded by our best
friends, keep me no longer in dark suspense--I am prepared to hear every
misfortune which I may share with you.”
“The cloud of misfortune,” interrupted Le Brun, “now hovering over our
heads, Anita, will, I predict, only prove a summer thunder-storm, which
may sweep every thing exposed and unprotected before it, during its
first burst, but pass harmless by those who have watched its coming and
prepared for its approach.”
“Daughter--I have long been suspected by the government of disaffection
to their cause; they are now hard pressed, and no means which terror,
tyranny, avarice, or suspicion can suggest, are left untried to support
their failing cause, and crush that of their rivals; and now they seek
my life and fortune.”
“Merciful heaven! And what harm, have you done the government, that they
should single you out for a victim?”
“The question,” said Le Brun, “is not what harm your father has done; he
is guiltless of any active opposition to the government, but much may be
effected for their cause by confiscation of his property, much terror
may be struck into dubious adherents by--by disposing of his person.
Dearest Anita, I do not wish to terrify you unnecessarily. Pray lean on
your father’s arm, love; you look pale and exhausted.”
“Alas! alas! this old arm, Anita, will soon be no longer able to shelter
and support the dear girls who now cling to it for protection. Midnight
assassins prowl round the city for victims. Emboldened by impunity,
higher prey will be fixed upon, and then--”
“No, no, father, you shall never suffer. I will seek the tyrant’s den
myself, throw myself on my knees before him, and implore him by his
hopes of salvation, by the memory of the departed wife of his bosom. I
will take his own daughter with me, to join our united prayers for mercy
on the innocent head of a gray-haired father. We will give him your
money, father, let him have your lands, and houses; we, have many
friends in other parts, we will rid him of our presence; Mariquita, you,
and I, father, will seek some other country, and save him from the crime
of dishonouring gray hairs. No, father, he shall not, dare not touch
you.”
“My noble girl,” said Le Brun, with a feeling of self-reproach at an
instance of energy and decision so superior to his own, “I admire your
heroic resolution; I pay honour to the purity and elevation of your
sentiment; but let me, who unfortunately know too much of their villany,
assure you that the tears and prayers of youth, innocence, and beauty,
would draw down the scoffs of a brutal soldiery, and would have no
other effect on their master than to set his quick wits at work how to
deceive you, and hold you forth as a bait, yes, as a bribe, to reward
the treachery of a foe, or retain the services of an ally.”
“Alas! that is too true, my dearest child--let me perish sooner than
risk the honour of my children. Felipe Le Brun, Anita, is I believe the
only man who can save us. He has influence with the government, all my
floating capital is in his hands: I have long known, and placed
confidence in him: it is he who has informed us of our present danger,
and is prepared to assist us out of it. He has long loved you, Anita,
and I believe he is not indifferent to you. I have this day promised him
your hand in marriage, and given him the right as my intended
son-in-law, and the heir of half my fortune, to secure what of my
property he can on such short notice. Have I not done right, my love?”
“Stop, father! stop!” cried Anita, labouring under the utmost agitation,
“we have other friends as well as Señor Le Brun, and God knows we will
need them all. What if the man who disregards the petitions of innocence
for mercy, and despises the rights of property and laws of justice, with
respect to the old and harmless, should as suddenly turn round on the
young and active, should he become afraid of its power, or jealous of
its exercise? Mr Thorne, who is bold, generous, and a foreigner, is here
in the next room, let us ask his advice and assistance. What say you,
Señor Le Brun?”
“Certainly, let Mr Thorne be called in for advice, if Señor Mendoza has
no objections.”
“I do object, my dear child. Mr Thorne has been the cause--unwittingly,
I allow, but still he has been the cause--of hurrying on our fate. He
has already,” said the old man, echoing the sentiments of Le Brun,
“rendered himself obnoxious to the whole body of Masorcheros. None, my
dear child, can save our property if it be not Le Brun: if the
government be resolved to push things to extremities, Le Brun is the man
whom I would trust.”
“Anita,” said Le Brun, earnestly laying her hand in his, “cheer up, my
brave girl--better days await us all yet. I flatter myself that I have
influence with the government--how acquired it boots not now to state:
that influence shall be exerted to the utmost to secure you father’s
interests and safety. This is a strange time, Anita, to talk of love;
often--often have I longed for a more favourable opportunity. I seek not
to urge my suit by my power to save your father’s life--I protest
against thus bargaining for your priceless affections. I am struggling
to merit your love, not to buy it. When your father’s life and property
are secured, I shall be in misery till I join you in your exile, and lay
my fate and fortune at your feet. Say, dearest, shall we then forget all
our past misfortunes, and seek for future happiness in the society of
each other?”
“Say yes, my child--give him your promise.”
“When my father’s life is saved by YOU, I will,” and she sunk exhausted
in her father’s arms.
“Adieu, then, dearest. Adieu, Mendoza, for the present--_hasta manana_.
I now hurry to town to arrange your affairs as I best may.” And Don
Felipe Le Brun withdrew, a happier man than he had long been, ay and a
better.
It may well be conceived that the evening, which on this occasion might
have passed off in a lively manner, was dull in the extreme. Every one
felt embarrassed: they soon retired, and next morning they all found
their way back to the city.