Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 153: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

144 THE ARGOSY. traced your child to Cuba, and thence to the City of Mexico, where I found her. She had been taken and cared for by a distant relative of her mother—a Senor Llorente.” “Yes, a scoundrel, if there ever was one. Go on.” “From him I learned the whole sto 7 ‘* His version of it, but an untrue one, surely. He could not speak truth.” “He gave me what seemed to be proofs of the correctness of his tale, and there was one statement which I de- termined never to reveal.” “What was that, Felix? ” “That your first wife had died only ten years before that time, or fifteen” years ago now. That is to say, nearly six years after the birth of Carla. I was horrified. You ” The old man raised one hand and stopped him. He was smiling and un- moved. “It 1s not true,” he said, calmly. “ Carlotta—that was her name—died in my armis, from a wound inflicted by that very weapon that affected me so, the evening when we together called upon Rita. It was thrown through the open window by the hand of an un- known assassin, but, as I honestly be- lieve, by Llorcnte himself, who loved her, and had been repulsed for me. | think the weapon was aimed at me, or at both of us, but it struck only her. She died instantly, without a word, and I never once left her-side until she was hidden from earthly sight forever. That was two years, nearly, before the moth- er of Carla and Edna became my wife. Do you believe me, Felix? ” “ Do I believe you? My God! If you only knew how I have suffered, fearing that you would some day know this thing that I was led to believe— fearing that Carla and Ned might hear of it—and the relief that I feel now! I should have told you five years ago, Pater.” “You acted for the best, and you have done nobly, Felix. I have only one more thing to say. You already know the reasons for my separation from Rita’s mother. You must under- stand that no blame attached to her. She was jealous; that was all. Unjustly so, but it was Llorente’s work. She left me and returned to her home in Spain. Ultimately, I followed her there. Our interview had just commenced ; she had not told me of the child, but she had thrown herself into my embrace when that terrible knife flew through the win- dow and ended everything. I loved her, Felix. That is all. Now, will you send my eldest daughter to me? Will you send Rita here? I will tell her who she 1s.” More than two hours elapsed after Rita entered her father’s library before she came out again, and when she did, there was a new born happiness in her eyes and upon her face, which almost transfiguredit. During the last halfhour of that time, Carla and Edna were there also, and they all came out together. Just what took place inside was never revealed by any of those who partici- pated, but whatever it was, it had pro- duced peace, harmony, and concord forever. . Felix was in the parlor, alone, and Carla entered and closed the door. “ Felix,” she said, “I have come to ask your forgiveness. Will you grant it? I think I shall be happy again, if you will.” “It is I who need forgiveness, Carla,” he replied. ‘No, Felix, it is I. Let us be just to ourselves, and to each other. I am very happy in the possession of my sister Rita—still happier in the knowledge that she is to be your wife. She loves you much more deeply than I ever did. I love you now, better than I did then, for it was not real love, Felix: it was pride. And when I forgot myself and did that horrible thing, it was my pride that was suffering, not my love. I have never really loved. I realize that when I look at Rita. You are to be my brother, and I shall love xu better so _ eo