're keeping her in."

Caspar's scheme thus at length declared, seeming feasible enough--and
indeed the only one which any of them can think of as at all
practicable--the other two signify assent to it; and its execution, or
the attempt, is finally determined upon.

Going on to discuss the steps next best to be taken, they are
interrupted by the sound of footsteps--some one ascending from below!
The footfall is a light one, but distinct enough for them to tell, that
whoever makes it is continuing on towards them, though yet unseen. As
already said, the causeway is in part overshadowed by the cliff, and
within this shadow keeps the person approaching. For all, on the
footsteps drawing near, there is light enough for them to make out a
figure; the better from its being clad in a drapery of white, loose and
flowing, as though the wearer were a woman.

And so is she, or, to speak more correctly, a girl; her sex and age
revealed to them, as at a certain point she steps to the off side of the
path, and the moonlight falling upon her, exposes to their view a face
beautiful as youthful.

Gaspar and Cypriano both recognise the face, but say nothing. Different
Ludwig, who at the first glance got of it, unable to restrain himself,
mechanically mutters the name--

"Nacena!"

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

A DISPENSER OF SPELLS.

Fortunately Ludwig's exclamation has been uttered in a subdued tone of
voice; but lest in his agitation he may speak louder, the gaucho grasps
him by the arm, and cautions silence, enjoining the same on Cypriano.

For several seconds not another word passes between them, all three
remaining motionless, and silent as sphinxes.

Meanwhile the Indian girl having come opposite the place where they are
seated, passes onward with cautious step and eyes that interrogate the
ground in front, as if she anticipated seeing some one; like a young
hind that has stolen timidly out of the covert, on hearing the
call-bleat of the stag.

Soon she is far enough beyond to give them an opportunity of exchanging
speech without her overhearing it; and of this the gaucho avails
himself, whispering--

"She's keeping an appointment with her lover, I suppose."

He little thinks of the painful effect his words have produced upon
Ludwig, as he adds--

"We'll do best to let her go on to their place of meeting, which is no
doubt somewhere near. She must return this way, and then we can have
_our_ interview with her. But