“Papa! papa! es el capitan!” (Papa, it is the captain!) cried one of the sisters, who had run out in advance, and whom I recognised as the elder one.
“Do not be alarmed, Señorita,” said I, approaching.
“Oh! you are safe—you are safe!—papa, he is safe!” cried both the girls at once; while Don Cosmé exhibited his joy by hugging my comrade and myself alternately.
Suddenly letting go, he threw up his hands, and inquired with a look of anxiety:
“Y el señor gordo?” (And the fat gentleman?)
“Oh! he’s all right,” replied Clayley, with a laugh; “he has saved his bacon, Don Cosmé; though I imagine about this time he wouldn’t object to a little of yours.”
I translated my companion’s answer. The latter part of it seemed to act upon Don Cosmé as a hint, and we were immediately hurried to the dining-room, where we found the Dona Joaquina preparing supper.
During our meal I recounted the principal events of the day. Don Cosmé knew nothing of these guerilleros, although he had heard that there were bands in the neighbourhood. Learning from the guide that we had been attacked, he had despatched a trusty servant to the American camp, and Raoul had met the party coming to our rescue.
After supper Don Cosmé left us to give some orders relative to his departure in the morning. His lady set about preparing the sleeping apartments, and my companion and I were left for some time in the sweet companionship of Lupé and Luz.
Both were exquisite musicians, playing the harp and guitar with equal cleverness. Many a pure Spanish melody was poured into the delighted ears of my friend and myself. The thoughts that arose in our minds were doubtless of a similar kind; and yet how strange that our hearts should have been warmed to love by beings so different in character! The gay, free spirit of my comrade seemed to have met a responsive echo. He and his brilliant partner laughed, chatted, and sang in turns. In the incidents of the moment this light-hearted creature had forgotten her brother, yet the next moment she would weep for him. A tender heart—a heart of joys and sorrows—of ever-changing emotions, coming and passing like shadows thrown by straggling clouds upon the sun-lit stream!