"No, Juan; your place is here. An hour ago you were but a thoughtless
boy; now you must learn to be a man.--Senor, you have brought news?
You have come to announce the death of my husband; is it not so?"

The mountaineer bowed almost to the ground.

"It is a sad story, senora, but it will not take long to tell. The
Spaniards pretended he was stirring up our people to revolt; they
waited for him in the passes, and shot him down like a dog."

"Did you see him fall?"

The fellow's eyes flashed with savage rage. "Had I been there," he
cried, "not a soldier of them all would have returned to his quarters!
But they shall yet pay for it, senora. My people are mad to rise.
Only say the word, and send the son of the dead man to ride at their
head, and Lima shall be in flames to-morrow."

My mother made a gesture of dissent.

"Don Eduardo liked not cruelty," she exclaimed; "and it would be but a
poor revenge to slay the innocent. But Juan shall take his father's
place, and work for his country's freedom. When the time comes to
strike he shall be ready."

"Before the time comes he will have disappeared," cried the
mountaineer, with a harsh laugh. "Do you think Don Eduardo's son will
be allowed to live? Accidents, senora, are common in Peru!"

"It is true," remarked Jose; "Juan will never be out of danger."

"But the country is not ready for revolt, and only harm can come from a
rising now. Should the Indians leave their mountain homes, the trained
soldiers will annihilate them."

"But Juan must be saved!"

"Yes," assented my mother; "we must save Juan to take his father's
place."

After this there was silence for a time. Then Jose spoke, "There is
one way," said he slowly. "He can find a refuge in Chili till San
Martin is ready; but he must go at once."

A spasm of fresh pain shot across my mother's face, but it disappeared
instantly; even with this added grief she would not let people know how
she suffered. Only as her hand rested on mine I felt it tremble.

"Let it be so, Jose," she said simply. "I leave it to you."

Then she thanked the mountaineer who had ridden so far to break the
terrible news to her, and the two men went away, leaving us two
together.

"Mother," I said, "must I really leave you?"

For answer she clasped me in her arms and kissed my face passionately.

"But you will come back, my boy!" she cried; "you will come back. Now
that your father is no more, you are my only hope,