vana? he asked. He hadn't been to a dance
for forty years. Was she fond of dancing? of course she was. What a pity
they couldn't--here he happened to glance at Rita's black dress, and
stopped short.

"Miss Montfort, I beg your pardon! It was very stupid of me. I ran on
without thinking. You are in mourning. What a brute I am!"

The tears had gathered in Rita's eyes, but now she smiled through them.
"It is six months since my father died," she said. "He was the kindest
of fathers, though, alas! Spanish in his sympathies."

"Your mother?" hazarded Jack, full of sympathy.

"My mother died three years ago. My stepmother--" then followed the tale
of her persecution, her escape, and subsequent adventures. Captain Jack
was delighted with the story.

"Hurrah!" he exclaimed. "That was tremendously plucky, you know, going
off in that way. That was fine! and you got to your brother all right? I
wonder--is he--are you any relation of Carlos Montfort? Not his sister?
You don't mean it. Why, I was at school with Carlos, the first school I
ever went to. An old priest kept it, in Plaza Nero. Carlos was a good
fellow, and gave me the biggest licking once--I'm very glad we met, Miss
Montfort. And--I don't mean to be impertinent, I'm sure you know that;
but--what are you going to do now?"

Alas! Rita did not know. "I thought I was safe here," she said. "I was
to stay here with these good people till word came from my uncle in the
States, or till there was a good escort that might take me to some port
whence I could sail to New York. Now--I do not know; I begin to tremble,
Senor Delmonte. To-day, while Donna Prudencia and I were in the forest,
a Spanish _guerrilla_ came here, looking for me. Don Diego Moreno was in
command. He is a friend of my stepmother's. I know him, a cold, hateful
man. If he had found me--" she shuddered.

"I know Diego Moreno, too," said Delmonte; and his brow darkened. "He is
not fit to look at you, much less to speak to you. Never mind, Miss
Montfort! don't be afraid; we'll manage somehow. If no better way turns
up, I'll take you to Puerto Blanco myself. Trouble is, these fellows are
rather down on me just now; but we'll manage somehow, never fear! Hark!
what's that?"

He leaned forward, listening intently. A faint sound was heard, hardly
more than a breathing. Some night-bird, was it? It came from the fringe
of forest across the road. Again it sounded, two notes, a long and a
short one, soft and plaintive