voice, "I love you, as you love me," with a sudden strength of faith in
him that made her live again, and made fear seem impossible. While her
father slowly paced the floor in silence, she thought what she should
do, and whether there could be anything which she would not do, if Don
John of Austria were kept a prisoner from her; and she felt sure that
she could overcome every obstacle and laugh at every danger, for the
hope of getting to him. If she would, so would he, since he loved her as
she loved him. But for all the world, he would not have her throw
herself upon her father's mercy and make false promises and sob out
denials of her love, out of fear. Death would be better than that.

"Do as you will with me, since you have the power," she said at last,
quite calmly and steadily.

Instantly the old man stopped in his walk, and turned towards her,
almost as if he himself were afraid now. To her amazement she saw that
his dark eyes were moist with tears that clung but half shed to the
rugged lids and rough lashes. He did not speak for some moments, while
she gazed at him in wonder, for she could not understand. Then all at
once he lifted his brown hands and covered his face with a gesture of
utter despair.

"Dolores! My child, my little girl!" he cried, in a broken voice.

Then he sat down, as it overcome, clasped his hands on the hilt of his
sword, and rested his forehead against them, rocking himself with a
barely perceptible motion. In twenty years, Dolores had never
understood, not even guessed, that the hard man, ever preaching of
wholesome duty and strict obedience, always rebuking, never satisfied,
ill pleased almost always, loved her with all his heart, and looked upon