"Don Cosme--."

Our host entered at that moment, and, listening to his remonstrances,
the order was rescinded, and I consented to remain.

I saluted the ladies with as much courtesy as I could assume. I could
not help the coldness of my manner, and I could perceive that with _her_
it did not pass unobserved.

We sat down to the breakfast-table; but my heart was full of bitterness,
and I scarcely touched the delicate viands that were placed before me.

"You do not eat, Captain. I hope you are well?" said Don Cosme,
observing my strange and somewhat rude demeanour.

"Thank, you, Senor, I never enjoyed better health."

I studiously avoided looking towards her, paying slight attentions to
her sister. This is the game of piques. Once or twice I ventured a
side-glance. Her eyes were bent upon me with a strange, inquiring look.

They are swimming in tears, and soft, and forgiving. They are swollen.
She has been weeping. That is not strange. Her brother's danger is, no
doubt, the cause of her sorrow.

Yet, is there not reproach in her looks? Reproach! How ill does my
conduct of last night correspond with this affected coldness--this
rudeness! Can she, too, be suffering?

I arose from the table, and, walking forth, ordered Lincoln to prepare
the men for marching.

I strolled down among the orange-trees. Clayley followed soon after,
accompanied by both the girls. Don Cosme remained at the house to
superintend the saddling of his mule, while Dona Joaquina was packing
the necessary articles into his portmanteau.

Following some silent instinct, we--Guadalupe and I--came together.
Clayley and his mistress had strayed away, leaving us alone. I had not
yet spoken to her. I felt a strange impulse--a desire to know the
worst. I felt as one looking over a fearful precipice.

Then I will brave the danger; it can be no worse than this agony of
suspicion and suspense.

I turned towards her. Her head was bent to one side. She was crushing
an orange-flower between her fingers, and her eyes seemed to follow the
dropping fragments.

How beautiful was she at that moment!

"The artist certainly has not flattered you."

She looked at me with a bewildered expression. Oh, those swimming eyes!

She did not understand me.

I repeated the observation.

"Senor Capitan, what do you mean?"

"That the painter has not done you justice. The portrait is certainly a
likeness, yet the expression, I think, should h