order, the fire was not returned. A
few shots, he thought, might be unheard or pass unnoticed by the Carlist
troops in the vicinity, but the fire of his men would inevitably attract
attention. In silence, therefore, and partly sheltered by a projecting
portico, he and Herrera assailed the convent door with their axes. The
obstacle was a slighter one than that which had already been overcome,
and its demolition seemed likely to be more speedy. There were other
doors in the wings of the convent that would perhaps have been yet more
easily broken down; but in the uncertainty of what the interior
partitions and defences night be, the Mochuelo preferred attacking the
principal entrance. The Carlists continued to fire, and several of the
guerillas were already killed; but soon, in anticipation of their
stronghold being speedily forced, the besieged ceased to defend
themselves, and left the windows to seek concealment from the first fury
of the foe. The door gave way, and the victorious Christinos, eager for
booty, poured into the building. Herrera was the first who entered. He
had ascertained from Paco the part of the convent where he might expect
to find Rita; he darted up the stairs and along a gallery which ran
completely round the first floor. The Mochuelo accompanied him. They
were passing an open window, whence the Carlists had fired, when a loud
shout was uttered by a detachment, who, in obedience to the orders of
their chief, remained formed up in the court. The shout was followed by
a few musket shots. The Mochuelo stopped and looked out: Herrera, all
his thoughts concentrated on one subject, still hurried on, but an
exclamation from his companion arrested his steps.

"Escaped!" cried the Mochuelo.

"Escaped!" repeated Herrera, in his turn looking out; "Who?"

The question was answered by what he saw. Whilst the guerillas in the
court-yard, resting upon their arms, gazed at the convent windows, now
rapidly becoming illuminated, and envied their more fortunate comrades,
who, to judge from the noise within, were using unsparingly their
privileges as victors, a door in one of the projecting wings suddenly
opened, and a man on horseback, with a woman before him on his saddle,
dashed into the court. His spurs plunged in his charger's flanks, he
rode through the astonished soldiers, and out at the gate. There was
still enough light for Herrera to catch a glimpse of his figure before
he disappeared below the brow of the s