"You see not? Surely the knowledge of God in Christ, the kingdom of
heaven opened up to us, is the true El Dorado, the golden country, which
enriches those who find it for ever more."
"That is all very good," said Juan, with the air of a man not quite
satisfied.
"I doubt not that was our father's meaning," Carlos continued.
"I doubt it, though. Up to that point I follow you, Carlos; but there
we part. _Something_ in the New World, I think, my father must have
found."
A lengthened debate followed, in which Carlos discovered, rather to his
surprise, that Juan still clung to his early faith in a literal land of
gold. The more thoughtful and speculative brother sought in vain to
reason him out of that belief. Nor was he much more successful when he
came to state his own settled conviction that they should never see
their father's face on earth. Not the slightest doubt remained on his
own mind that, on account of his attachment to the Reformed faith, the
Conde de Nuera had been, in the phraseology of the time, quietly "put
out of the way." But whether this had been done during the voyage, or
on the wild unknown shores of the New World, he believed his children
would never know.
On this point, however, no argument availed with Juan. He seemed
determined _not_ to believe in his father's death. He confessed,
indeed, that his heart bounded at the thought that he had been a
sufferer "in the cause of truth and freedom." "He has suffered exile,"
he said, "and the loss of all things. But I see not wherefore he may
not after all be living still, somewhere in that vast wonderful New
World."
"I am content to think," Carlos replied, "that all these years he has
been at rest with the dead in Christ. And that we shall see his face
first with Christ when he appears in glory."
"But I am not content. We must learn something more."
"We shall never learn more. How can we?" asked Carlos.
"That is so like thee, little brother. Ever desponding, ever turned
easily from thy purpose."
"Well; be it so," said Carlos meekly.
"But what _I_ determine, that I do," said Juan. "At least I will make
my uncle speak out," he continued. "I have ever suspected that he knows
something."
"But how is that to be done?" asked Carlos. "Nevertheless, do all thou
canst, and God prosper thee. Only," he added with great earnestness,
"remember the necessities of our present position; and for the sake of
our friends, as well as of our own lives, use due prudence and caution."
"Fear not, my too prudent brother.--The best and dearest brother in the
world," he added kindly, "if he had but a little more courage."
Thus conversing they hastily retraced their steps to the city, the hour
being already late.
Quiet weeks passed on after this unmarked by any event of importance.
Winter had now given place to spring; the time of the singing of birds
was come. In spite of numerous and heavy anxieties, and of _one_ sorrow
that pressed more or less upon all, it was still spring-time in many a
brave and hopeful heart amongst the adherents of the new faith in
Seville. Certainly it was spring-time with Don Juan Alvarez.
One Sunday a letter arrived by special messenger from Nuera, containing
the unwelcome tidings that the old and faithful servant of the house,
Diego Montes, was dying. It was his last wish to resign his stewardship
into the hands of his young master, Senor Don Juan. Juan could not
hesitate. "I will go to-morrow morning," he said to Carlos; "but rest
assured I will return hither as soon as possible; the days are too
precious to be lost."
Together they repaired once more to Dona Isabella's house. Don Juan told
the friends they met there of his intended departure, and ere they
separated many a hand warmly grasped his, and many a voice spoke kindly
the "Vaya con Dios" for his journey.
"It needs not formal leave-takings, senores and my brethren," said Juan;
"my absence will be very short; not next Sunday indeed, but possibly in
a fortnight, and certainly this day month I shall meet you all here
again."
"_God willing_," said Losada gravely. And so they parted.