scaped the Don's lips, as he quitted the
room of death.

Inez's lips Quivered, and the convulsive twitching of her features
plainly indicated her grief at this mournful parting with the playmate
of her youth--with her affianced husband. Yet the large dark eyes were
undimmed: and her tone calm, as though the "King of Terrors" were not
there in all his gloom.

"Inez, I sympathize with you in this affliction, and sincerely regret
that the fatal wound was inflicted by one of my nation. Yet the past
is irretrievable, though painful, and many are, like you, bereft of
friends and relatives. Inez, in your hours of gloom and sadness can
you not think of your reunion with Manuel, where death and parting are
unknown!"

She had averted her head, and a look of unutterable bitterness rested
on the pale, stern face.

"I thank you for coming; though you could not give Manuel relief. It
was good and kind in you to try, and none but Frank Bryant would have
done it: again I thank you. I shall not forget this night, and you,
Senor, shall be requited. I trust you are not suffering with your arm;
why is it bound up?" And she laid her hand softly on it.

"I received a slight though rather painful wound during the
engagement, and placed it in a sling for convenience and relief; but,
Inez, it is well-nigh day, see how the stars are waning. You
need rest, so good night, or rather morning; I will see you again
to-morrow." And Frank sought his sister, knowing full well her
anxiety, and wishing speedily to allay it.

CHAPTER XXII.

"Where is the place of meeting?
At what hour rises the moon?
I repair to what? to hold a council in the dark
With common ruffians leagued to ruin states!"

BYRON.

The fierce storm of war had swept over the town, and quiet seemed
succeeding. No sound of strife disturbed the stillness which settled
around. Many had fallen, and the grass began to bud on the grave of
Manuel; 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. Still,
now that his steps no longer echoed at their door, and his deep voice
sounded not again on her ear, a lonely feeling stole into her heart,
and often she crept from her dreary home and sought th