uite true," returned the princess, looking with a solemn expression
down at Pedro--for she was still on horseback, while he and his men were
dismounted, preparing the camp. "You must on no account disobey my
father, Pedro."

"Well then, you see," returned the guide, with an amused look, "I cannot
give you permission to leave us."

"Of course not. That would be insubordination, Pedro, would it not?
which, in time of war, is punishable, I think, with death. I would
never think of asking permission, or tempting you to disobey. I will be
sure to tell my father that you positively refused to let me go. Adieu,
Senhor Pedro. A good appetite and sweet repose!"

She touched her splendid horse with a switch, and next moment was flying
over the Pampas at a pace that rendered pursuit useless.

Dismounting and fastening her steed to a tree, she passed through the
garden towards the house, and naturally, as we have seen, came upon
Lawrence.

"Manuela!" he exclaimed.

"Si, senhor," she replied.

He advanced a step with outstretched arms, and then, checking himself,
clasped his hands.

"Is it--can it be--a dream?"

"What doos you dream, senhor?" asked the girl, in the old familiar
broken English.

"Manuela, dear girl, do not trifle with me. It seems like magic. Did I
not see you--in the ballroom--white--the daughter of Colonel
Marchbanks?"

"Well, Senhor Armstrong," said Manuela, earnestly, and in good English,
"I admit that I am the daughter of Colonel Marchbanks, but I did not--
indeed I did not _wish_ to deceive--"

"Deceive!" interrupted Lawrence, quickly, "as well might you tell me
that one of the unfallen angels did not mean to deceive. O dear one,
forgive me! I know not how to tell it--but--but--_can_ you believe that
a great stupid fellow like myself loves you so that--that--I--well--it's
of no use. I'll never act wisely if I try to--to--"

He seized her hand. She did not withdraw it. He drew her to him. She
did not resist; and there followed a sound--a very slight sound; yet it
was not so slight but that it sent a shock of alarm and anger to the
soul of Colonel Marchbanks, who came up at that awkward moment.

"Sir! sirrah! senhor,--rascal!" spluttered the old man, as Manuela ran
away from the scene, "what--why--what do you mean?"

Drawing himself up, Lawrence said, with a look of dignity--

"Colonel Marchbanks, I can look you honestly in the face, and say that
neither in word nor deed have I