“They are far away—hundreds of miles. Would Nacena herself take me to them?”
“No. That is not needed. The paleface is mistaken. Her friends are not far away, but near. They wait for her to come out to them.”
The captive gives a start of surprise, the light of hope and joy, long absent from her eyes, rekindling in them, as another light breaks upon her.
“Of whom does Nacena speak?”
“Of your brother the fair-haired youth, your cousin the dark Paraguayan, and the gaucho who has guided them hither. All three are close to the tolderia, on the other side of the hill—as I’ve said, expecting you. Nacena has spoken with them, and promised she will conduct you to where they are. White sister!” she adds, in a tone of unmistakeable sincerity, at the same time drawing closer to the captive, and tenderly taking her by the hand, “do not show distrust, but let Nacena keep her word. She will restore you to your friends, your brother; ah! to one who waits for you with anxiety keener than all!”
At the last words the captive bends upon her would-be deliverer a bewildered, wondering look. Is it possible Nacena has knowledge of her tenderest secret? It must be so; but how can she have learnt it? Surely Cypriano—whom she says she has seen outside and spoken with—surely, he could not have revealed it; would not! Francesca forgets that the Indian girl was for years a near neighbour to her father’s estancia; and though never visiting there, with the keen intuition of her race was like enough to have learnt, that the relationship between her cousin and herself had something in it beyond mere cousinly affection.
While she is still cogitating as to how Nacena could have come to this knowledge, and wondering the while, the latter bleaks in upon her wonderment, and once more urges her to flight, again speaking of him who is near and dear, so anxiously expecting her.
It needs not such pressing appeal. For the captive girl, her surprise once past, is but too willing to embrace the opportunity so unexpectedly offered, and by one so unlikely to offer it. Therefore, without further hesitation, she signifies acceptance, saying, “I will trust you, Nacena. You have called me your white sister, and I believe you sincere. You would not speak so if you meant me harm. Take me where you will; I am ready to go with you.”
Saying which, she holds out her hand, as if offering to be led.
The Indian girl taking it, turns her face for the door, and is about to step towards it, when she remembers the watcher without; and obstruction she had for the time forgotten. Will he bar their exit? A cloud comes over her brow, as she asks herself the question; for, mentally answering it, she thinks he most probably will.