The sun was already disappearing below the horizon when Stoneheart had issued from the forest; the cavern, sombre enough in the daytime, was at this hour in almost total darkness; so he retraced his steps, to obtain a light for the purpose of resuming a search which otherwise the obscurity rendered impossible. On reaching the entrance to the cavern, he availed himself of the last gleam of daylight to look about him. Some torches of ocote wood were carefully arranged close to the entrance. Producing flint and steel, he speedily procured a light; and, arming himself with a kindled torch, again made his way into the cave. He traversed several chambers without success: and had begun to suspect that the Tigercat had duped him, when he perceived a faint glimmer at some distance in advance of him, which gradually approached, until its light was sufficient to reveal the form of Doña Hermosa.
She too held a torch in her hand. She was walking with a slow and unsteady step, her head sunk on her breast, in an attitude of poignant sorrow. Doña Hermosa came nearer and nearer, till she was within fifty paces of Stoneheart. Uncertain how to attract her attention, he was on the point of calling to her, when she chanced to raise her head. On seeing a man before her, she stopped, and haughtily demanded: "Why have you entered this corridor? Have you forgotten that your chief has forbidden anyone to enter it and annoy me?"
"Forgive me, señorita," replied Stoneheart gently; "the order was unknown to me."
"Heavens!" cried she; "That voice! Is it a a dream?" She dropped her torch, and hastened to approach Stoneheart, who likewise rushed towards her. "Don Fernando!" she exclaimed; "Don Fernando here, in this horrible den! Great God! what further evil is at hand? Have I not suffered enough yet?"
Overcome by emotion, she lost all consciousness, and sank, fainting, into the arms of Stoneheart. Alarmed at the occurrence, and not knowing how to recall her to her senses, he hurried her back to the entrance to the cavern, hoping that the fresh air might restore her. He placed her carefully on a heap of dry leaves, and left her to herself. Stoneheart was a man whose courage reached the verge of temerity. A hundred times he had looked death in the face with a smile; but when he saw the girl lying before him, her features rigid, and pale as death, he trembled like a child; a cold sweat broke out over his forehead, and tears—the first he had ever shed—rolled down his face.
"My God, my God!" he exclaimed; "I have killed her!"
"Who speaks?" said Doña Hermosa in feeble accents, the current of air rushing into the cave having somewhat revived her. "Do I really hear Don Fernando? Can it be he?"
"It is I; it is indeed I, Hermosa. Collect yourself, and forgive me for causing this sudden fright."
"I am not alarmed," she answered; "on the contrary, your presence relieves me, Don Fernando, if your appearance in this dreadful place augurs no new misfortune."
"Calm yourself, señorita," he said, drawing gently near her; "I am no omen of evil; I bring good tidings."