ing with the man.

'Surely you will not desert me,' she said, 'after marrying me and
all that you have sworn; you will not have the heart to desert me. I
abandoned everything for you. I am in great danger. I--' and here her
voice fell so that I could not catch her words.

Then he spoke. 'Fairest, now as always I adore you. But we must part
awhile. You owe me much, Isabella. I have rescued you from the grave,
I have taught you what it is to live and love. Doubtless with your
advantages and charms, your great charms, you will profit by the lesson.
Money I cannot give you, for I have none to spare, but I have endowed
you with experience that is more valuable by far. This is our farewell
for awhile and I am brokenhearted. Yet

"'Neath fairer skies Shine other eyes,"

and I--' and again he spoke so low that I could not catch his words.

As he talked on, all my body began to tremble. The scene was moving
indeed, but it was not that which stirred me so deeply, it was the man's
voice and bearing that reminded me--no, it could scarcely be!

'Oh! you will not be so cruel,' said the lady, 'to leave me, your wife,
thus alone and in such sore trouble and danger. Take me with you, Juan,
I beseech you!' and she caught him by the arm and clung to him.

He shook her from him somewhat roughly, and as he did so his wide hat
fell to the ground so that the moonlight shone upon his face. By Heaven!
it was he--Juan de Garcia and no other! I could not be mistaken. There
was the deeply carved, cruel face, the high forehead with the scar on
it, the thin sneering mouth, the peaked beard and curling hair. Chance
had given him into my hand, and I would kill him or he should kill me.

I took three paces and stood before him, drawing my sword as I came.

'What, my dove, have you a bully at hand?' he said stepping back
astonished. 'Your business, senor? Are you here to champion beauty in
distress?'

'I am here, Juan de Garcia, to avenge a murdered woman. Do you remember
a certain river bank away in England, where you chanced to meet a lady
you had known, and to leave her dead? Or if you have forgotten, perhaps
at least you will remember this, which I carry that it may kill you,'
and I flashed the sword that had been his before his eyes.

'Mother of God! It is the English boy who--' and he stopped.

'It is Thomas Wingfield who beat and bound you, and who now purposes to
finish what he began yonder as he has sworn. Draw, or, Juan de Garcia,