“We, then, have your free consent as to our early union, Don Gonzales?”

“With all my heart, General Bezan, and may the virgin add her blessing.”

“I see, sir, you look anxious as to how I came in possession of this princely fortune.”

“I am indeed filled with amazement; but the evidence you offer is satisfactory.”

“At another time I will explain all to you,” replied Lorenzo Bezan, smiling.

“It is well; and now, sir, this matter of so much importance to my peace of mind is settled.”

Thus saying, Don Gonzales shook the soldier’s hand warmly, and departed, really delighted at the result of the matter, for had not General Bezan brought the requisite fortune, the old Spaniard would have religiously kept his oath; and, if not influenced by honor and consciousness in the matter of fulfilling his sacred promise, he would have been led to do so through fear, he being in such matters most superstitious.

Lorenzo Bezan resolved that little time should intervene before he availed himself of the promise of Isabella’s father.  “Once mine, I shall fear no more casualties, and shall have the right not only to love, but to protect her.  We know each other now, better, perhaps, than we could have done save through tho agency of misfortune, and ere to-morrow’s sun shall set, I hope to call her mine.”

As the moon swept up from out the sea that night, and tinged the battlements of Moro Castle, and silvered the sparkling bay with its soft light, two forms sat at one of the broad balcony windows of Don Gonzales’s house.  It was Lorenzo Bezan and Isabella.  They were drinking in of the loveliness of the hour, and talking to each other upon the thousand suggestions that their minds busily produced as connected with the new aspect of their own personal affairs.  The arm of the gallant soldier was about her, and the soft curls of her dark hair lay lovingly about his neck as she rested her head upon his shoulder.

We might depict here the splendors of the church of Santa Clara, where Isabella and Lorenzo Bezan were united; we might elaborate upon their perfect happiness; state in detail the satisfaction of Don Gonzales, and show how happy was the gentle, thoughtful, kind-hearted and brave Ruez; and we might even say that the hound seemed to realize that General Bezan was now “one of the family,” wagging his tail with increased unction, and fawning upon him with more evident affection.  But when we say that all were happy, and that the great aim of Lorenzo Bezan’s heart was accomplished, the reader will find ample space and time to fill up the open space in the picture.

General Harero, fearing the disclosure in some way of his villany in attempting, through his agent, the now dead jailor, the life of Lorenzo Bezan, immediately resigned his post, and sought an early opportunity to return to Spain.  Here he fell in a duel with one whom he had personally injured, and his memory was soon lost to friends and foes.