Rosa was alone, and though rather dreading to be asked about the business of the silver key, I thought it best to get the interview over. As it happened, I need not have worried myself at all.
"I wanted to see you, Juan," she said, giving me her hand. "It seems ages ago when I sent you out on that terrible errand. I ought not to have done it; but my father's life was at stake, and I did not think of the danger to you."
"Think no more of it, Rosa. After all, the danger was trifling; the Indians would not have hurt me."
"I don't quite understand the story," she said thoughtfully, "but I know you risked your life."
"There was little risk. I had a slight chance to rescue your father from the Indians, and seized it. Unfortunately the attempt failed, and I was captured by the Royalists. So in one way you did me a good turn; for while the other fellows were starving and fighting in the mountains, I was pretty comfortably off."
"But you were in the great battle?"
"Yes, I was. I escaped from prison chiefly to please a mad-brained young lieutenant of my regiment. But it is all past now, Rosa, and there will be no more fighting."
"I am sorry for his Majesty," she said simply, "and for the loyal gentlemen who have died for him."
"There were some splendid fellows amongst the Royalists," I said, and proceeded to tell her the story of the gallant Santiago Mariano.
"He must have been a brave man, Juan!"