I read the first lines, and perceiving that I should not be able to conceal my agitation, went up to the window as if to get a better light, but really so as to turn my back to the others. The main part of the letter was as follows: “Two weeks ago I wrote you that I should be obliged to delay my journey for four months; but the difficulties in the way have unexpectedly disappeared, and I hasten to notify you that I shall be in Cali the 30th of next January, where I shall hope to meet Efraín, so that we may set out for the coast on February 2nd. I was sorry to hear of your severe sickness, but have just received news that you are out of danger. Give my good wishes to your family for the speedy restoration of your health. I hope, accordingly, that there will be no difficulty in giving me the pleasure of Efraín’s company, for whom, as for yourself, I cherish a particular regard. Be kind enough to let him see this part of the letter.”
When I turned to take my seat, I found my father’s eyes fixed upon me. María and my sister went out.
“What day of the month is it today?” asked my father.
“The twenty-sixth,” I replied.
“Then we have only a month. We can’t go to sleep.”
There was in his accent and face that calmness which revealed an unchangeable resolve. A servant came in to tell me that the horse which I had ordered was ready.
“When you come back from your ride,” said my father, “we will answer that letter, and you yourself can take it to the village, as tomorrow you ought certainly to visit the farms.”
“I shall not be long,” I said, as I went out.
I had to conceal what I was suffering; in solitude to call upon that sweet hope which had flattered me, only to leave me alone in the presence of the reality; alone to grieve, so that María should not see my tears.
I rode down to the broad shores of the river, where it becomes less impetuous as it meets the plains. Sweeping in majestic curves, it flows at first among beautifully carpeted hills, kissing the leaves of the carboneros and guava-trees on the bank; then it hides behind the last mountainous ridges, where it seems to murmur its final adieu to solitude, and at last loses itself in the distant blue plain, where, just then, the setting sun was turning to lilac and gold its undulating stream.
When I returned, climbing up the winding paths that led down to the shore, the night was already putting on its summer splendor. The foam on the waters of the river shone with dazzling whiteness.
The waves quivered in their channels as though whispering secrets to the breezes which hung above them caressingly. The quiet stretches of the river which were not in shadow reflected in their depths the twinkling stars; and where the branches of the forest interlaced from one shore to the other, and formed weird canopies, the fitful light of wandering glowworms was flashed back from below. Only the hum of nocturnal insects broke the silence of the slumbering woods; though from time to time the owl, jealous guardian of the thickets, flew about me giving its sinister hoot.
The house, though already lighted up, was silent when I gave the horse to Juan Ángel. My father was expecting me, walking back and forth in the parlor.
“You were gone long,” said he. “Do you want to write those letters?”
“I should prefer first to talk with you about my journey.”
“Well, what about it?” he said, seating himself.
I remained standing near the table, turning my back to the candle.
“Since the misfortune that has occurred,” I said; “since that loss whose amount I can appreciate, I think I ought to tell you that I do not wish to hold you to the sacrifice involved in the completion of my education. Before the family suffered this defalcation, I told you that I should be well pleased to go on aiding you in your work; but you declined my offer then, and nothing was left for me to say. Now the case is very different, and I hope you will accept my proposition. I will cheerfully renounce the advantages you have proposed me in the completion of my studies, as it is my duty to relieve you from the promise you have given me.”
He replied: “All this is, up to a certain point, very thoughtful and wise. I am sure that honorable feelings inspire you to speak as you have done. But I must tell you that my determination is irrevocable. The expense which the remainder of your education will be to me will not make my situation any worse, and as soon as you have finished your course, the family will gather fruit from the seed I am sowing. Besides,” he added, after a short pause, during which he resumed his walk, “I believe that you have too much pride to break off foolishly what you have so well begun.”
“I will do all within my power,” I answered, in complete despair; “I will do all I can to fulfill the hopes you entertain for me.”
“That is right. Go on calmly. I am sure that by the time you return I shall have successfully carried through the plans I have made to pay my debts. Your position will be a very good one four years from now, and then María will become your wife.”
He relapsed into silence again for some minutes, but finally said, stopping in front of me: “Let us set about the writing, then. Bring the necessaries here; it may do me harm to go into the study.”
He had just finished dictating to me a long and affectionate letter to Señor A⸺, and
