st
each other, while their riders, closing in mutual clasp, leaned over and
met their lips in that wild fervid kiss--the climax of love.

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

STRAYED FROM THE TRACK.

We parted upon the top of the hill. It was not prudent for us to be
seen riding together, and Isolina went away first, leaving me in the
glade.

We had bidden adieu in that phrase of pleasant promise, "_hasta la
manana_" (until to-morrow). To-morrow we should meet again. To-morrow,
and to-morrow, we should visit that sweet spot, repeat our burning
words, renew our blissful vows.

I remained some minutes on the ground, now hallowed and holy. Within,
the tumult of triumphant passion had passed, and was succeeded by the
calm repose of perfect contentment. My heart's longings had been
gratified; it had found all that it desired--even to the full
reciprocity of its passion. What would it more? There is no more of
mundane bliss. Life has no felicity to cope with requited love; it
alone can give us a foretaste of future joys; by it only may we form
some idea of the angel existence of heaven.

The world without was in harmony with the spirit within. The scene
around me was rose-coloured. The flowers appeared fresher in tint, and
breathed a sweeter fragrance in the air; the hum of the homeward bee,
laden with treasures for his love-queen, fell with a dreamy pleasance
upon the ear; the voices of the birds sounded softer and more musical;
even the _aras_ and paroquets, chanting in a more subdued tone, no
longer pronounced that hated name; and the tiny Mexican doves, _las
palomitas_--scarcely so large as finches--walked with proud gait over
the ground, or side by side upon the branches of the myrtles--like types
of tender love--told their heart's tale in soft and amorous cooing.

Long could I have lingered by that consecrated spot, even _hasta la
manana_, but duty claimed me, and its calls must not be disregarded.
Already the setting sun was flinging purple beams over the distant
prairie; and, heading my horse down the hill, I once more plunged under
the shadows of the mimosas.

Absorbed in my supreme happiness, I took no heed of aught else; I
noticed neither track nor path.

Had I left my horse to himself, most likely he would have taken the
right road; but in my reverie, perhaps I had mechanically dragged upon
the rein, and turned him from it. Whether or not, after a lapse of
time, I found myself in the midst of thick woo