"You must fly also, señora," he answered. "I think it is to you I owe my life, for have you not been my faithful nurse through I know not how long a sickness? Then how could I be so ungrateful as to leave you here in captivity while I seek home and freedom for myself?"
"You have home and kindred, father and mother perhaps, señor?" she said inquiringly, the soft eyes she fixed upon his face wistful and dim with unshed tears.
"Ah," he answered with emotion, "the thought of their anguish when they shall learn my fate doubles my distress."
"Then," she sighed, "better to be alone in the world, like me, with none to care whether you live or die."
"Nay, sweet lady, there is one who cares very much, though he has known you so short a time," he said with a grateful look; "one who would feel doubly desolate were you to leave him here alone with his captors."
