At the Point of the Sword | Page 4

began to speak of the strange visitor outside; but Rosa was her first care, and she would see no one until Rosa had been attended to. So I hurried Miguel, the coachman, and the men who were to ride on either side of the carriage, returning to the room only when all was ready.
Mother had wrapped Rosa up warmly, and now, kissing her, she said, "Good-bye, my child. You were very good to think of me, and I shall not forget. Tell your father the truth; he will not mind now."
Rosa kissed my mother in reply, and walked unsteadily to the coach. She was still sobbing, and the sight of her white face added to my misery.
"Don't cry, Rosa," said I, as I helped her into the carriage and wished her good-bye, neither of us having any idea of the strange events which would happen before we met again.
As soon as the carriage had gone, my mother directed that the stranger should be admitted, and he came in accompanied by José. I would have left the room, but my mother stopped me, saying,--
"No, Juan; your place is here. An hour ago you were but a thoughtless boy; now you must learn to be a man.--Se?or, 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, se?ora, 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, se?ora. 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, se?ora, are common in Peru!"
"It is true," remarked José; "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 José 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, José," 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, the only joy of my life. O Juan, Juan! it is hard to let you go; but José is right--there is no other way. I will be brave, dear, and wait patiently for your return. Follow in your father's footsteps. Do the right, and fear not whatever may happen; be brave and gentle, and filled with love for your country, even as he was. Keep his memory green in your heart, and you cannot stray from the path of honour."
"I will try, mother."
"And if--if we never meet again, my boy, I will try to be brave too."
She wiped away the tears which veiled like a mist the brilliance of her starry eyes, and we sat quietly in the darkening room, while outside José was making preparations for our immediate departure.
At last he knocked at the door, and without a tremor in her voice she bade him enter.
"The horses are saddled, se?ora."
"Yes; and your plan, what is it?" she asked.
"It is very simple, se?ora. Juan and I will ride straight to Mr. Warren at Callao. He may have a vessel