Now they enjoyed a two hours' téte-â-téte, which was very sweet to them, and which pleasure they had not had since Clarence left.
Mercedes' convalescence was very slow. Her despondency at Clarence's absence retarded her recovery. The wounding of George had also impressed her painfully, for she was devotedly attached to him; and now she was worrying about her father having to go away.
Don Mariano told her that as soon as the cattle were on the other side of the mountains he would not feel any apprehension of their running away; that once in the desert they would go straight to the river, but that while in the mountains there was danger of their “stampeding” and being lost. She heard all this, but still she dreaded her papa's going out of her sight. She could not forget that had he been at home when Clarence came that last evening all might have been right. She had no faith in human calculations any more. She was sick, and wanted her papa near her.
“I think the best thing you can do is to send Mercita to town, to remain with us while you are away,” George had said to Don Mariano, hearing how badly she felt at his going.
“Yes, you are right. The surroundings at the rancho bring to her painful thoughts which will be gloomier when Tano and myself are away. She will have the two babies, of whom she is so fond, to amuse her here,” said Don Mariano.
“Besides all of us, the Holman girls will be good company for her,” added George.
Mercedes, therefore, was told by her papa that she was to remain with Elvira and Lizzie in town during his absence.
“Papa, darling, I shall not cease to be anxious about you and Tano until I see your dear faces again. I am a thoroughly superstitious girl now. But still, I do agree with you and poor, dear George, that the babies will be a sweet source of consolation to me. Yes, take me to them. I'll play chess or cards with George, and we'll amuse each other. He will read to me; he is a splendid reader; I love to hear him.”
Mercedes, therefore, was conveyed to town by her loving father, who went away with a much lighter heart, thinking that she would be less desponding.
The mayordomo, with about twenty vaqueros, were nearly at the foot of the mountains with twenty-five hundred head of cattle, when Don Mariano and Victoriano overtook them, and as the cattle had been resting there for two days, their journey to the Colorado River would be resumed at daybreak.