“See that you are so, then,” said he, peremptorily; “for I will not be cajoled into another minute’s delay. I shall be here again precisely at nine o’clock; and if you are not ready then, I shall shoot the prisoners, and compel you to redeem your pledge afterward.”
She was about to make an angry reply; but, reflecting that he was fully capable, if incensed more than he seemed already, of dragging her at once to the altar, she suppressed her indignation, and replied as calmly as possible—
“Do you not think, count,” said she, “that such language is unbecoming at such a time—and to me?”
“If,” said he, softening at once, approaching her and taking her hand, “if you treated me with the confidence which I feel I deserve, no one could be more gentle and affectionate than I would be. But you leave no room for gentleness. Even now, you are endeavoring to gain time in order that you may be rescued by American soldiers. But—be at once undeceived—these soldiers cannot arrive here sooner than the day after to-morrow, and then they will find the place vacant.”
Margarita’s heart sank within her, though she had seen Harding’s messenger, and trusted his report. She knew not to what expedient one so adroit as her persecutor might resort, to delay the march of the rangers, or lead them astray; and her imagination at once conjured up twenty plans by which he might secure his object. She made no reply, however, other than to assert that he was mistaken in her motives, and request that he would leave her to her preparations.
“Very well,” said he, “I will return at nine o’clock.”
As soon as his step ceased to be heard, Margarita summoned the two confidential women who were most about her person, and a council was held upon the ways or means of escaping or gaining time. But, fertile as is woman’s wit, no feasible plan was suggested. Escape from the house was impossible, for the count had every avenue guarded; the priest was inaccessible, for he was completely under De Marsiac’s influence; even her own men could not be depended upon, for the few who were in the _hacienda_ were overawed by the _rancheros_ of her persecutor. The only alternative was to stand obstinately silent at the altar; and yet by this course, she inevitably sacrificed two lives—one of them dearer to her than her own. Her position was terribly embarrassing; for, if she should refuse to consent until her lover was murdered, she could not even then be sure that the count would not force her to yield afterward; making thus a bloody, and unavailing sacrifice.