“I see no one.”
“Ho, ho! He jess gone in ’mong de tree. See yonner—yonner! You see de black glaze hat, de shinin’ jacket ob velvet, an de glancin’ silver buttons—dat’s him. I sartin sure dat’s de same young fella.”
“You may be mistaken for all that, Master Pluto. There are many here who dress in that fashion. The distance is too great for you to distinguish; and now that he’s almost out of sight—Never mind, Florinde. Hasten below—get out my hat and habit. I’m going out for a ride. You, Pluto! have the saddle on Luna in the shortest time. I must not let the sun get too high. Haste! haste!”
As the servants disappeared down the stairway, she turned once more towards the parapet, her bosom heaving under the revulsion of thoughts. Unobserved she could now freely scan the prairie and chapparal.
She was too late. The horseman had ridden entirely out of sight.
“It was very like him, and yet it was not. It can scarce be possible. If it be he, why should he be going that way?”
A new pang passed through her bosom. She remembered once before having asked herself the same question.
She no longer stayed upon the azotea to watch the road. In ten minutes’ time she was across the river, entering the chapparal where the horseman had disappeared.
She rode rapidly on, scanning the causeway far in the advance.
Suddenly she reined up, on nearing the crest of the hill that overlooked the Leona. The act was consequent on the hearing of voices.