“Why, then, did you try to make away from us?”
“Ah, cavallero! are you not Tejanos? Do not be offended when I tell you that your people bear but an indifferent reputation among us Mexicans.”
“But your attempt to escape was, to say the least, rash and imprudent: you risked life by it.”
“Carrambo, yes! I perceive I did;” and she looked significantly at the mustang, while a bitter smile played upon her lips. “I perceive it now; I did not then. I did not think there was a horseman in all your troop could come up with me. Merced! there was one. You have overtaken me: you alone could have done it.”
As she uttered these words, her large brown eyes were once more turned upon me—not in a fixed gaze, but wandering. She scanned me from the forage-cap on my crown to the spur upon my heel. I watched her eye with eager interest: I fancied that its scornful expression was giving way; I fancied there was a ray of tenderness in the glance, I would have given the world to have divined her thoughts at that moment.
Our eyes met, and parted in mutual embarrassment—at least I fancied so; for on turning again, I saw that her head drooped, and her gaze was directed downward, as if some new thought occupied her.
For some moments, both were silent. We might have remained longer thus, but it occurred to me that I was acting rudely. The lady was still my captive. I had not yet given her permission to depart: I hastened to tender it.
“Spy or no spy, señorita, I shall not detain you. I shall bear the risk: you are free to go.”
“Gracias I cavallero! And now, since you have behaved so handsomely, I shall set your mind at rest about the risk. Read!”
She handed me a folded paper; at a glance, I recognised the safe-guard of the commander-in-chief, enjoining upon all to respect its bearer—the Doña Isolina de Vargas.