“Oh, don’t say young ladies,” laughed Alison; “it does sound so commonplace. Say lady-loves.”
“All right, little lady—love.” He paused between the two words and Alison felt the color coming to her cheeks. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable any longer than need be,” continued Neal, “and that’s why I want to get you home.”
“I am comfortable, and I shall be better satisfied to go, if I can go to-day.”
“All right. Have it your own way. As long as you don’t take cold I am willing to do anything that suits you.”
“It is very mean of me to make you go when you have been riding all this time in the cold.”
“That’s nothing. I’ve been out in worse weather than this, and in company I liked less.”
“It isn’t so very far out of the way,” continued Alison, “and it is much more sheltered. We shall not have the wind in our faces at any rate.” So they turned off and followed the edge of the woods in another direction till the village of adobe huts was before them.
CHAPTER XVII
ALISON AWAKES
AN hour later the little Mexican settlement was left behind. Alison had seen Brigida, had given her warning and had received tearful thanks and repeated blessings. “You must get him away from there at once,” Alison had told her, “or he may be discovered.” And Brigida had assured her that there were friends and relatives who would go to the assistance of Carlos. So the girl came out of the stuffy adobe house where chickens roosted on the chairs, a game-cock, tied by the leg, occupied one corner, and where a huge bed took up most of the space. She wore so happy a face that Neal could but smile in return, and in spite of the rain and the piercingly cold wind they made a joyous journey the rest of the way.
“Neal,” whispered the girl, as he lifted her down before her own door, “you are my own true knight. I don’t know another who would have let me have my way without a word, who would have trusted me as you have done.” And at the look she gave him as she passed into the house he felt that her hour of waking was at hand.