! ha! That one is of course your lady-love. Well, noble
capitan, if you are as true to her as to you brave steed, she will have
no cause to doubt your fealty. I must leave you. Adios!"

"Shall I not be permitted to accompany you to your home?"

"_Gracias_! no, senor. I am at home. _Mira_! my father's house!" She
pointed to the hacienda. "Here is one who will look to the remains of
poor Lola;" and she signalled to a vaquero at that moment coming from
the herd. "Remember, capitan, you are an enemy; I must not accept your
politeness; neither may I offer you hospitality. Ah! you know not us--
you know not the tyrant Santa Anna. Perhaps even at this moment his
spies are--" She glanced suspiciously around as she spoke. "O Heavens!"
she exclaimed with a start, as her eyes fell upon the form of a man
advancing down the hill. "_Santissima Virgen_! it is Ijurra!"

"Ijurra?"

"Only my cousin; but--" She hesitated, and then suddenly changing to an
expression of entreaty, she continued: "O leave me, senor! _Por amor
Dios_! leave me. Adieu, adieu!"

Though I longed to have a nearer view of "Ijurra," the hurried
earnestness of her manner overcame me; and without making other reply
than a simple "Adios," I vaulted into the saddle, and rode off.

On reaching the border of the woods, curiosity--a stronger feeling
perhaps--mastered my politeness; and, under the pretence of adjusting my
stirrup, I turned in the saddle, and glanced back.

Ijurra had arrived upon the ground.

I beheld a tall dark man, dressed in the usual costume of the ricos of
Mexico: dark cloth polka-jacket, blue military trousers, with scarlet
sash around his waist, and low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat upon his head.
He appeared about thirty years of age, whiskered, moustached, and,
after a fashion, handsome. It was not his age, nor his personal
appearance, nor yet his costume, that had my attention at the moment. I
watched only his actions. He stood confronting his cousin, or rather he
stood _over_ her, for she appeared before him in an attitude of fear!
He held a paper in one hand, and I saw he was pointing to it as he
spoke. There was a fierce vulture-like expression upon his face; and
even in the distance I could tell, from the tones of his voice, that he
was talking angrily!

Why should she fear _him_? Why submit to such rude rebuke? He must
have a strange power over that spirit who could force it thus tamely to
listen to reproach?

Th