The 20th of March—a day never to be forgot!

I have seen Mr. Rivers. It is the first time since that night—nine months ago. I have seen him and spoken with him in the presence of Melinza, DoÑa Orosia, and the Governor.

Whatever may befall us now, nothing can take away the memory of this last hour. If ever we leave these walls together and taste freedom again, it will have been dearly bought. A maid's truth tarnished, and the brave heart of a most loyal gentleman robbed of its faith! Dear God, what a price to pay!

'Twas noon when DoÑa Orosia came herself to fetch me.

"There is some deviltry afoot," she said. "I cannot fathom it as yet; but, as you hope for freedom for yourself and your Englishman, don't fail to play your part to the end. Come quickly! Melinza demands to see you, and the Governor permits it. Don't blame me, child—I can do nothing to prevent it. But, I warn you, act the part, whatever it may cost you."

I followed her, as in a dream, along the corridor, into the room where the old Governor sat in his arm-chair beside a carved table, whereon were a decanter of wine, glasses half drained, and a litter of playing-cards. He drummed upon the table with his withered fingers, and looked uneasily, first at his wife's flushed face as she entered the door, and then at the determined countenance of Melinza, who was standing before the heavy arras which divided that room from another in the rear.

"DoÑa Margarita," said the Governor, clearing his throat nervously, "is it so that you are detained within my house against your will?"

"Your Excellency," I began, and was thankful I could speak truth, "I, and all the other English, have been held here in San Augustin for many a long month against our will."

"Without the orders of the Spanish Council I could not liberate you, seÑorita; though now we purpose to do so, having authority. But concerning yourself—Melinza assures me that you do not desire to be sent with your countrymen."

I felt my heart grow cold. Must I still cling to the lie? I looked at DoÑa Orosia, whose black eyes flashed a warning.

"That is true, SeÑor de Colis," I said, and my voice sounded far off and strange.

"You would wish to remain here as my guest and companion, Margarita," said the Governor's wife in vehement tones.

I looked at her in wonder. What did they desire between them? My head swam, and I would have said Yes to her also; but her black eyes menaced me again. I drew a deep breath and shook my head. "No, please your Excellency."

Melinza smiled a slow triumphant smile. "DoÑa Orosia is unfortunate. I trust I shall be more successful. You would rather go to Habana as my companion,—is it not so, Margarita mia?"—and he stepped forward and held forth his hand to me.

One day in the early spring DoÑa Orosia had called me to see a new pet which had been brought to her, a young crocodile, loathsome and hideous; and she had forced me to touch the tethered monster as it crawled, the length of its chain, over the floor. I do remember the cold disgust I felt at the horrid contact; but it was as naught to the feeling that passed over me when I let the Spaniard take my hand.

He drew me toward him, laughing softly. "Who doubts that the lady goes willingly?" and lifted his voice with a defiant question in its ringing tones.

"I do, seÑor!"—and it was my dear love who pushed aside the arras and came forward into the room,—my dear love, wasted by fever and long imprisonment, white and gaunt and spectral, yet bearing himself with all his olden dignity.

The Spaniard turned to meet him, holding me still within the circle of his arm. I gave one final glance at the Governor's wife and read my cue. After that I could see nothing but my love's white face.

"Have I lied to you, SeÑor Englishman? Do you believe, now, that I hold that golden tress as a pledge of future favours? The lady on whose faith you were ready to stake your soul is here to answer for herself, and she has thrown in her lot with me—with me, seÑor."

"Margaret—Margaret!" cried my dear love, "tell him he lies, sweetheart!"

I opened my lips, but the words died on my tongue. Again my poor love cried to me, holding out his arms. I saw his white face grow paler still, and he swayed uncertainly where he stood. Then, gathering all his strength, he threw himself upon the Spaniard and would have torn us apart, had not his weak limbs given way, so that he fell prone upon the floor.

Melinza's hand went to his sword; he drew the blade and held it to my dear love's throat.

At last my voice came back to me; I laid my hand upon the Spaniard's arm. "Spare the man, Don Pedro! I like not the sight of blood!"

Then I saw mortal agony in a brave man's eyes. He made no move to rise, but lay there at my feet and looked at me.

"Margaret Tudor," he said, "do you love me still?"

I looked down at him. If I spoke truth, Melinza's blade would soon cut short his hearing of it. A wild laugh rose in my throat; I could not hold it back, and it rang out, merrily mad, in the silent room.

"SeÑores," I said, "SeÑores, I love a brave man, not a coward!" and that was truth, though none in that room read me aright, save DoÑa Orosia.

The man at my side laughed with me, and he at my feet gave me one look and swooned away.

Melinza sheathed his sword, saying, "Your Excellency, the prisoner appears convinced; so you can scarce doubt the evidence yourself."

The Governor cleared his throat again, and glanced helplessly toward his wife. She stepped forward with scornful composure and took my arm.

"Things are come to a pretty pass, SeÑor de Colis, when Don Pedro brings his prisoners under this roof and your wife is made a witness to a brawl. I crave your leave to withdraw; and I take this girl with me till the question of her guardianship is settled." Then, still holding me by the arm, she left the room; and neither of the two men ventured to stop our progress.

Arrived at my chamber DoÑa Orosia opened the door and thrust me in, bidding me draw the bolt securely.

I was left alone with my thoughts. Such thoughts as they are! I cannot weep; my eyes are hot and dry. There is no grief like unto this. Oh, my mother! when your beloved clasped you to his heart in that last farewell, there were between you thoughts of parting, of bodily pains to be borne, of scourgings and fetters,—aye, and of death. But what were those compared with what I have to bear, who am humbled in the sight of my dear love?