hood where their lives had been spent.

They rode slowly, in deference to Don Miguel's age and that of his pony.
Rita, riding beside the good old man, listened to the recital of his
terrors and anxieties from the time her flight was discovered to the
present moment. These caused her real grief, and she begged again and
again for the forgiveness which he assured her was wholly unnecessary.
But when he described the hysterical rage of her stepmother, her eyes
brightened, and the colour came back to her pale cheek. She had no doubt
that Concepcion Montfort was sorry to lose her; the larger part of her
father's fortune had been settled upon her, Rita, before his second
marriage.

"The senora also has made diligent search for you, my child!" said Don
Miguel. "She has offered ample rewards--"

"I know it!" said Rita. "Only yesterday--can it be that it was only
yesterday?--Don Diego Moreno was here--there, I should say, at that
peaceful home that is now a heap of ashes. These Spaniards!"

Had she seen Don Diego? the old man asked; and he seemed relieved when
she answered in the negative.

"It is well; it is well!" he said. "He is a relative of the senora's, I
am aware; but it would have been unsuitable, most unsuitable."

"What would have been unsuitable, Donito Miguelito?"

Don Miguel looked confused. "A--nothing, my child. The Senora Montfort
had an idea--Don Diego made certain advances--in short, he would have
asked for your hand, my senorita--well, my Margarita, if you will have
it so. But I took it upon myself to refuse these overtures without
consulting you."

Rita heard a low exclamation, and turning, saw Delmonte's face like
dark fire beside her.

"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I could not help hearing. Don Miguel, if
Diego Moreno makes any more such proposals, kindly let me know, and I'll
shoot him at sight."

"I--thank you! thank you, my son!" said Don Miguel, somewhat fluttered.
"I hope no violence will be necessary. I used strong language, very
strong language, to Don Diego Moreno. I--I told him that I considered
him a person entirely objectionable, unfit to sweep the road before the
Senorita Montfort's feet. He went away very angry. I thought we should
hear no more of him; but it seems that he still retains his presumptuous
idea. Without doubt, it will be best, my dear child, for you to seek the
northern home of your family without delay."

Why, at this obviously sensible remark, should Rita feel a si