The cause is known.
And also why she is riding in such hot haste. She has herself declared it.
On nearing the house, she is seen to tighten her rein. The horse is pulled in to a slower pace—a trot; slower still—a walk; and, soon after, he is halted in the middle of the road.
His rider has changed her intention; or stops to reflect whether she should.
She sits reflecting.
“On second thoughts—perhaps—better not have him taken? It would create a terrible scandal, everywhere. So far, no one knows of —. Besides, what can I say myself—the only witness? Ah! were I to tell these gallant Texans the story, my own testimony would be enough to have him punished with a harsh hand. No! let him live. Ladron as he is, I do not fear him. After what’s happened he will not care to come near me. Santa Virgen! to think that I could have felt a fancy for this man—short-lived as it was!
“I must send some one back to release him. One who can keep my secret—who? Benito, the mayor-domo—faithful and brave. Gracias a Dios! Yonder’s my man—as usual busied in counting his cattle. Benito! Benito!”
“At your orders, s’ñorita?”
“Good Benito, I want you to do me a kindness. You consent?”
“At your orders, s’ñorita?” repeats the mayor-domo, bowing low.