wife. Soon
will be--engaged, no doubt. Yes; he has won her heart, after all;
likely had it then, when I believed it mine. Such deception? O God!"

These unspoken questions and conjectures passed through his mind rapidly
as thought itself.

They were interrupted by his seeing the ladies--the carriage being now
nearly abreast--turn their faces towards him in an odd interrogative
way. The movement, abrupt and sudden, seemed prompted; and so had it
been by him on horseback. Florence Kearney saw him nod in that
direction, his lips moving, but the distance was too great to hear what
he said.

"_Mira! Los Tejanos_!" were Santander's words, indicating the group of
which they formed part. "One of them is, if I mistake not, an old
acquaintance of yours, Don Luisa? And how strange!" he added, feigning
surprise. "Chained to a criminal--no, let me not call him that--an
individual in whom the Condesa Almonte takes an interest, if rumour's to
be believed. Is it so, Condesa?"

Neither of them made response, for neither was now listening to him.
Each had her eyes upon that which engrossed all her attention, one
fixedly gazing at Florence Kearney, the other at Ruperto Rivas. For, by
the grace, or rather negligence, of their guards, the latter was now up
on the pavement.

What an interchange of glances between the pairs thus brought face to
face! What a variety of expression upon their features! For varied and
strong were their emotions at this moment--surprise, sadness, sympathy,
indignation, and, amidst all, conspicuous above all, looks of unchanged,
ever-confiding love!

He who had brought about this odd interview--for it had been
pre-arranged--was riding on the left and near side of the carriage, the
sewer being on the right and off; which, of course, placed him behind
the backs of the ladies as they now were, and hindered his observing
their faces. Could he have seen them just then, he might have doubted
the success of his scheme, and certainly could not have accounted it a
triumph. For the eyes, late turned smilingly upon himself, were now
regarding Florence Kearney with earnest, sympathetic gaze.

And the man, to whom this was given, was trying his best to interpret
it. He saw that she turned pale as her eyes first fell upon him. That
might be but surprise seeing him there, with the consciousness of her
own guilt. Or was it pity? If so, he would have spurned it. All the
tortures the Acordada could infl