CHAPTER X.
July, the 16th day.
Two things have happened recently to break the sad monotony of my life within these walls.
Doña Orosia and Melinza have had a disagreement, which has resulted in his removal hence—at his own demand. Although I know nothing of the cause of their quarrel, Doña Orosia's last words to me, the other day, make it possible to understand the man's reluctance to remain here in her care,—and yet they say it was her nursing that saved his life! I would that I could understand it all!
Since his departure I have had the freedom of the courtyard and garden; and yesterday, by good chance, I had speech with one of the newly arrived English prisoners.
It had been a day of terrible heat, and just at nightfall I wandered out into the garden all alone. There is a high wall to it, which so joins the dwelling that together they form a hollow square. This wall is of soft gray stone; it is of a good thickness, and about a man's height. Along the top of it sharp spikes are set; and near one corner is a wrought-iron gate of great strength, which is kept securely locked.
It is not often that I venture near this gate, for it looks out upon the street, and I care not to be seen by any Indian or half-breed Spaniard who might go loitering by; but as I stood in the vine-covered arbour in the centre of the garden I heard a man's voice from the direction of the gate, humming a stave of a maritime air that I had heard sung oft and again by the sailors on the sloop, in which some unknown fair one is ardently invited to—
"—be the Captain's lady!"
and I knew it must be a friend. So I made haste thither and peered out into the street.