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Then pressing her hand on her heart, as if to still some exquisite pain, she murmured in saddened tones "Oh! I would lay down my life for your love, yet it is lavished on one who has no heart to give in return. Oh, that I may one day be able to serve you!" At the moment she perceived Mañuel Nevarro crossing the Plaza, and drawing closer the mantilla, she hastened homeward.
Mañuel Nevarro had eagerly enlisted in the Mexican ranks, and in a few weeks after General Cos's arrival, donned his uniform. Thus accoutered, he presented himself, for the first time since their disagreement, before Inez, who had but recently returned from San Jose, doubting not that her admiration of his new dress would extend to him who filled it.
The Don gave a detailed account, and wound up by applying to him for support, in favor of Nevarro. The look of sorrowful astonishment with which he listened, compelled Inez to fix her large Spanish eyes on the ground, lest he should perceive the smile which lurked in their corners, and half played round her lip.
He was joyfully hailed by De Garcia as an ally; but a dark look of hatred gleamed from Inez's eyes, as they rested on his form: it vanished instantly, and she welcomed him with a smile. She was cognizant of his interview with Nevarro, for her window overlooked the street in which it took place.
'The Padre then said, "My daughter, thy sins are grievous; my heart bleeds over thy manifold transgressions." "Even so, my Father; even so." "Dost thou still bear enmity to Mañuel Nevarro, who loves thee truly, and is thy promised husband?" "No, my Father; I desire to be speedily reconciled to him whom I have offended." "Wilt thou promise to offer no objection, but become his wife?"
Many had fallen, and the grass began to bud on the grave of Mañuel; no tear moistened the sod beneath which he rested. Inez often stood beside the newly-raised mound with folded arms, and a desolate, weary look on her beautiful features, which too plainly indicated a longing to sleep near him. Yet she never wept; for her love for Nevarro had been that of a cousin, perhaps not so fervent.
Her hand had been promised from infancy to her orphan cousin, Mañuel Nevarro, whose possessions were nearly as extensive as her own. This he positively refused to do, but promising, at Father Mazzolin's suggestion, that she should have a few more months of freedom, she apparently acquiesced. Among the peculiar customs of Mexicans, was a singular method of celebrating St. 's day.
Mañuel was of a fiery temperament, and one of the many who never pause to weigh the effect of their words or actions. Seizing her arm in no gentle manner, he angrily exclaimed, "A few more weeks, and I'll see whether you indulge every whim, and play the queen so royally!" Inez disengaged her arm, every feature quivering with scorn. "To whom do you speak, Señor Nevarro?
Mañuel feebly turned his head as the door opened, and his eyes brightened as they rested on Inez. He motioned her to sit beside him, and she complied, lifting his head and carefully leaning it upon her bosom. Dr. Bryant examined the wound, felt the pulse, and stooping over him, asked: "Nevarro, do you suffer much?" Mañuel laid his hand on the bleeding side, and feebly inclined his head.
He had not proceeded far, when a hand was laid upon his arm, and turning, with somewhat pugnacious intentions, encountered Father Mazzolin's piercing black eyes. "Bueño tarde, Padre." The black eyes rested on Nevarro with an expression which seemed to demand an explanation of his choler. Mañuel moved uneasily; the hot blood glowed in his swarthy cheek, and swelled like cords on the darkened brow.
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