t instantly fell back again. She glanced at
Herrera's uniform in seeming surprise, and gazed around her with a
haggard and terrified look.

"Have no fear," said Herrera; "you are in safety. Do I mistake, or are
you Dona Carmen de Forcadell?"

The nun's lips moved, but no sound escaped then.

"And Rita?" said Herrera, unable to restrain the inquiry, "where is
she?"

"Rita!" repeated the nun in a hollow broken voice, "What of her? Where
am I? how came I here? Oh, oh!" she exclaimed in tones of anguish, "I
remember!"

She put her hand to her head with a suffering gesture; a strange wild
gleam shone in her eyes, her reason seemed departing. Herrera anxiously
watched her. Her features became more composed, and for a moment she
appeared to suffer less.

"And Rita?" he again asked.

She looked him full in the face, the fire of delirium in her eyes.
"Rita!" she repeated. She paused, and then burst out into a scream of
laughter that made Herrera shudder.

"Ha, ha!" she cried, "False! vile! faithless!"----

The laugh died away upon her convulsed lips, a deep sob burst from her
breast, her head fell back. She was a corpse.

Herrera had but just assured himself that life had indeed fled, when he
heard in two different directions the sound of horses' feet, and then
Torres galloped up, followed by three of the guerillas.

"What do you here? The Mochuelo is furious at the delay. You will be
left behind. Where is Rita? Who is this?" cried he, looking at the dead
body of the nun.

Before Herrera could reply, Velasquez cleared the ditch. His face was
covered with blood, his sabre, which dangled from his wrist, showed the
same sanguine signals, and he led Baltasar's horse by the rein.

"Mount!" cried he to Herrera, "and spur, all of you, like devils. We
have been here too long already."

"You overtook him?" cried Herrera, springing into the saddle.

For sole reply, Velasquez raised his crimsoned sword, and dashing away
with the back of his hand the blood that blinded him, and which flowed
from a cut on his head, he set forward at full speed towards the
convent.

The guerillas were already formed up in readiness to depart. The
Mochuelo, chafing with impatience, had ridden a short distance to meet
Herrera and Velasquez.

"By all the saints!" he exclaimed, as they came up, "this delay may cost
us our lives, Captain Herrera. But how is this, you come alone? He has
escaped then, and carried off the lady!"

"It was not