Part 77

"But the proof--have you had proof? There must be proof!" said Crisóstomo, staggered.

Maria drew from her breast two papers.

"Here are two letters of my mother's," she said, "written in her remorse. Take them! Read them! My father left them in the house where he lived so many years. This man found them and kept them, and only gave them up to me in exchange for your letter, as assurance, he said, that I would not marry you without my father's consent. I sacrificed my love! Who would not for a mother dead and two fathers living? Could I foresee what use they would make of your letter? Could I know I was sacrificing you too?"

Ibarra was speechless. Maria went on:

"What remained for me to do? Could I tell you who my father was? Could I bid you ask his pardon, when he had so made your father suffer? Could I say to my father, who perhaps would have pardoned you--could I say I was his daughter? Nothing remained but to suffer, to guard my secret, and die suffering! Now, my friend, now that you know the sad story of your poor Maria, have you still for her that disdainful smile?"

"Maria, you are a saint!"

"I am blessed, because you believe in me----"

"And yet," said Crisóstomo, remembering, "I heard you were to marry----"

"Yes," sobbed the poor child, "my father demands this sacrifice; he has loved me, nourished me, and it did not belong to him to do it. I shall pay him my debt of gratitude by assuring him peace through this new connection, but----"

"But?"

"I shall not forget my vows to you."

"What is your thought?" asked Ibarra, trying to read in her clear eyes.

"The future is obscure. I do not know what I shall do; but I know this, that I can love but once, and that I shall not belong to one I do not love. And you? What will you do?"

"I am no longer anything but a fugitive--I shall fly, and my flight will soon be overtaken, Maria----"

Maria took his head in her hands, kissed his lips again and again, then pushed him away with all her strength.

"Fly, fly!" she said. "Adieu!"

Ibarra looked at her with shining eyes, but she made a sign, and he went, reeling for an instant like a drunken man. He leaped the wall again, and was back in the little bark. Maria Clara, leaning on the balustrade, watched till it disappeared in the distance.

LIII.

THE CHASE ON THE LAKE.

"Listen, señor, to the plan I have made," said Elias, as he pulled toward San Gabriel. "I will hide you, for the present, at the house of a friend of mine at Mandaluyong. I will bring you there your gold, that I hid in the tomb of your great-grandfather. You will leave the country----"

"To live among strangers?" interrupted Ibarra.

"To live in peace. You have friends in Spain; you may get amnesty."

Crisóstomo did not reply; he reflected in silence.

They arrived at the Pasig, and the little bark began to go up stream. On the bridge was a horseman, hastening his course, and a whistle long and shrill was heard.

"Elias," said Ibarra at length, "your misfortunes are due to my family, and you have twice saved my life. I owe you both gratitude and restitution of property. You advise me to leave the country; well, come with me. We will live as brothers."

Elias shook his head.

"It is true that I can never be happy in my country, but I can live and die there, perhaps die for my country. That is always something. But you can do nothing for her, here and now. Perhaps some day----"

"Unless I, too, should become a tulisan," mused Ibarra.