Don Miguel looked confused. "A—nothing, my child. The Señora Montfort had an idea—Don Diego made certain advances—in short, he would have asked for your hand, my señorita—well, my Margarita, if you will have it so. But I took it upon myself to refuse these overtures without consulting you."
Rita heard a low exclamation, and turning, saw Delmonte's face like dark fire beside her.
"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I could not help hearing. Don Miguel, if Diego Moreno makes any more such proposals, kindly let me know, and I'll shoot him at sight."
"I—thank you! thank you, my son!" said Don Miguel, somewhat fluttered. "I hope no violence will be necessary. I used strong language, very strong language, to Don Diego Moreno. I—I told him that I considered him a person entirely objectionable, unfit to sweep the road before the Señorita Montfort's feet. He went away very angry. I thought we should hear no more of him; but it seems that he still retains his presumptuous idea. Without doubt, it will be best, my dear child, for you to seek the northern home of your family without delay."
Why, at this obviously sensible remark, should Rita feel a sinking at the heart, and a sudden anger against her dear old friend? And again, why, on stealing a glance at Delmonte, and seeing the trouble reflected in his face, should her heart as suddenly spring up again, and dance within her? What had happened?
They had ridden some miles, when Jim Montfort, on his big gray horse, ranged alongside of Delmonte.
"It appears to me," he said, "that something is going on in these woods here. I've seen two or three bits of brown that weren't bark, and if I didn't catch the shine of a gun-barrel just now, you may call me a Dutchman. I think I'll fire, and see what happens."
"No, don't do that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "It's only my fellows. They've been keeping alongside for the last half-mile, waiting for a signal. They might as well come out now."
He gave a low call in two notes; the call Rita had heard—was it only the night before? it seemed as if a week had passed since then.
The call was answered from the wood; and as if by magic, from every tree, from every clump of bushes, came stealing lean brown figures, leading equally lean horses, all armed and on the alert. They saluted, and, at a word from the burly Juan, fell into order with the precision of a troop on drill.