We talked, as if years had sanctified our affection; though a love like ours needs scarce an hour to carry it to the spring-tide of pa.s.sion.

On the spot I called her Mercedes--_my_ Mercedes; while she in return gave me the endearing t.i.tle of "querido!"

It was no longer "Querido Francisco!"

It cast no shadow over my joy, that Francisco survived that terrible night; and, along with his Dolores, lived to complete the _marriage commenced among the mountains_, and so ruthlessly interrupted.

I had the pleasure of being present at the crowning scene of the ceremony. It came off in the Capital--in the quiet little church of the Capuchins--where Don Eusebio, instead of insisting upon his daughter becoming _una novia del Cristo_, gave his consent to her being the bride of Francisco Moreno.

THE END.