"Your preserver of the Calle de los Plateros."
For a long time this strange meeting strongly occupied the mind of the young girl; for an instant, she had even believed that Loyal Heart and her unknown preserver were the same man; but this supposition had soon faded away. What probability was there in it? With that object could Loyal Heart, after having saved her, so quickly have departed? That would have been absurd.
But, by one of those consequences (or those inconsequences, whichever the reader pleases) of the human mind, in proportion as the affair of Mexico was effaced from her thoughts, that of Loyal Heart, became more prominent.
She longed to see the hunter and talk with him.
Why?
She did not herself know. To see him,—-to hear his voice,—to meet his look, at once so soft and so proud,—nothing else; all maidens would have done the same.
But how was she to see him again?
In reply to that question arose an impossibility, before which the poor girl dropped her head with discouragement.
And yet something at the bottom of her heart, perhaps that voice divine which in the reflections of love whispers to young girls, told her that her wish would soon be accomplished.
She hoped, then?