Dick saw a small, dark head, proudly held,
an oval face half hidden, white as a flower, and magnificent
black eyes.
Then Thorne spoke.
"Mercedes--Dick Gale, an old friend--the best friend I ever had."
She swept the mantilla back over her head, disclosing a lovely face,
strange and striking to Gale in its pride and fire, its intensity.
"Senor Gale--ah! I cannot speak my happiness. His friend!"
"Yes, Mercedes; my friend and yours," said Thorne, speaking rapidly.
"We'll have need of him. Dear, there's bad news and no time to
break it gently. The priest did not come. He must have been
detained. And listen--be brave, dear Mercedes--Rojas is here!"
She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of which
shook Gale's nerve, and swayed as if she would faint. Thorne
caught her, and in husky voice importuned her to bear up.
"My darling! For God's sake don't faint--don't go to pieces!
We'd be lost! We've got a chance. We'll think of something. Be
strong! Fight!"
It was plain to Gale that Thorne was distracted. He scarcely knew
what he was saying. Pale and shaking, he clasped Mercedes to him.
Her terror had struck him helpless. It was so intense--it was so
full of horrible certainty of what fate awaited her.
She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he shook his head,
she changed to English:
"Senor, my lover, I will be strong--I will fight--I will obey.
But swear by my Virgin, if need be to save me from Rojas--you will
kill me!"
"Mercedes! Yes, I'll swear," he replied hoarsely.
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