That was all. All--from her to me! From her to me! No word of love accompanying the message. Not one!
She had saved me in some way--had induced the Alcáide to bring about my escape also--had done this, yet could send me no greeting such as she must have known I hungered for. Was it shame, remorse, that made her so silent and so cold? Heartbroken, I thrust the letter into my pocket, and, at a sign from the mute, mounted the horse, he doing the same with the other.
Then, ere we gave them their reins, he leant across and put into my hands the sword he had carried under his arm since first he opened the door of my cell; a sword long and serviceable-looking, with a great hilt and curled quillon; one that I had seen another like somewhere, though where it was I could not recall.
* * * * * * * * *
'Twas over twenty leagues to Terroso, I learnt in the course of our ride. Diminishing those leagues moment by moment, we went on and on, the black horse that I bestrode never faltering in its quick pace, the grey keeping close to it.
And I, my brain whirling, my heart beating tumultuously within my breast, my whole being--my soul!--shaken by the release from an awful death which had come to me, would have given all that I was possessed of if from that stricken, silent, terrible companion by my side I could have extracted one word--gleaned from him one jot or atom of information! Yet to my repeated exclamations he, seeing that I was speaking to him, shook his head persistently; when I made signs to him in the alphabet which I felt sure he knew, he turned his face away and rode on stolidly. Had a dead man, a spectre, been riding ever by my side, swiftly when I rode swiftly, halting when I halted, neither could have been more terrible to me than this living creature, so immutable and impenetrable.
I was sore beset--distraught, my mind full of fearful fancies! Fancies that I should find Juana dead--though, too, I imagined that she would not slay herself until she had made sure of my safety, else why her letter?--fancies that, since the letter contained no word or hint of love, she had forced herself to tear me out of her heart forever; forced herself to do so because now she knew she could never be aught to me again. These fancies, these thoughts, were awful in their intensity; were made doubly so by this silent creature who never quitted my side.
And once my agony of nerves grew so great that I turned round upon him--gesticulating fiercely--hating myself for my brutality in doing so against one who was, in truth, my saviour--shrieking at him:
"Speak! Speak! For God's sake, speak! Utter some word. Give some sign of being alive--a reasoning thing. Speak, I say, or leave me--else I shall slay you."
Then I shuddered and could have slain my own self at the man's action.