“Unless circumstances bar my way, I shall follow along the line of the railroad, stopping wherever night overtakes me, and resuming my journey whenever I feel like it. I have no definite plans. And, now, senorita, I believe I will say Adios. It is getting along toward 9 o’clock, and the proprietary genius of my hotel looks upon belated guests somewhat askance. I have made my adieus to Don Manuel and Don Carlos, and it only remains to express my regret at saying farewell to you, senorita.”
Juanita watches him while he untethers his horse, and as he turns, bridle in hand, to lift his hat, she comes from the veranda and puts her hand in his.
“You will surely return?” she asks.
“As surely as a bad penny.”
“Then I will not say farewell.”
“Au revoir it is, then,” says Jack. He lifts the little hand to his lips, and then with rather unnecessary abruptness he mounts his horse and rides away in the moonlight.
“Hang it!” he mutters, when out of sight of the quinta; “that makes at least half a dozen times that I have pulled myself together just in season to avoid making a fool of myself. Perhaps my vigilance would be relaxed if I could ascertain the precise relations existing between Juanita and Carlos. I never saw two persons more wrapped up in each other, and yet Juanita—” He stops and repeats the name, dwelling upon each syllable. “Pshaw! I believe I am getting soft in my head! G’lang, old nag, or we won’t get to Santiago before midnight.”
It is the 5th of April. Ashley has been in Santiago two weeks, and during the fortnight he has, in one way or another, kept his paper well supplied with news. He has also found many opportunities to run out to the quinta, and the welcome has always been so warm, and the adios so sincerely regretful, that he has begun to wonder whether his interest in the beautiful daughter of Don Manuel de Quesada is not lapping over the shadowy line that separates friendship from a sentiment which poets contend to be more powerful and philosophers regard as infinitely weaker.
Ashley has seen Murillo several times since his arrival, and between the Spanish general and the newspaper man something of friendship has grown. Murillo left for Havana two days before, to join the captain-general, who, it is reported, proposed to transfer his headquarters to Santiago.
When Jack reaches his hotel he is informed that a horse has been left for him at the stables.