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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Rita
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2008 [EBook #24827]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RITA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+RITA
+
+
+
+
+        BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+        By Laura E. Richards
+
+        _The_ MARGARET SERIES
+
+        Three Margarets
+        Margaret Montfort
+        Peggy
+        Rita
+        Fernley House
+
+
+        _The_ HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+        Queen Hildegarde
+        Hildegarde's Holiday
+        Hildegarde's Home
+        Hildegarde's Neighbors
+        Hildegarde's Harvest
+
+
+        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+        Publishers
+        Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+
+
+[Illustration: "RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED."]
+
+
+
+
+RITA
+
+BY
+
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+        "PEGGY," "MARGARET MONTFORT," "THREE
+        MARGARETS," ETC.
+
+        Illustrated by
+        ETHELDRED B. BARRY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+        BOSTON
+        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+        PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+        _Copyright, 1900_
+        BY DANA ESTES& COMPANY
+
+
+        Colonial Press
+        Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+        Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+                  TO
+
+          FIVE GIRLS I KNOW
+
+        IN THE TOWN OF SAINT JO
+
+        If this story should seem extravagant to any of
+        my readers, I can only refer them to some one
+        of the many published accounts of the
+        Spanish-American War. They will find that many
+        delicate and tenderly nurtured girls were
+        forced to endure dangers and privations
+        compared to which Rita's adventures seem like
+        child's play.
+
+                                             L. E. R.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+        CHAPTER                            PAGE
+           I. THREATENING WEATHER            11
+          II. THE STORM BURSTS               23
+         III. ON THE WAY                     33
+          IV. THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS       54
+           V. TO MARGARET                    77
+          VI. IN THE NIGHT                   93
+         VII. CAMP SCENE                    110
+        VIII. THE PACIFICOS                 130
+          IX. IN HIDING                     142
+           X. MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY         163
+          XI. CAPTAIN JACK                  176
+         XII. FOR LIFE                      190
+        XIII. MEETINGS AND GREETINGS        200
+         XIV. ANOTHER CAMP                  216
+          XV. A FOREGONE CONCLUSION         233
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+  "RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED"     _Frontispiece_
+
+  IN THE GARDEN                                       21
+
+  "THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO
+      THE GLOWING FACE"                               43
+
+  "'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. 'SIT STILL'"         104
+
+  "'WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?'"             147
+
+  "'I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART
+      IN MY MOUTH'"                                  172
+
+  "NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE"                 205
+
+  "THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER"                         237
+
+
+
+
+RITA.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THREATENING WEATHER.
+
+
+TO SEÑOR,
+
+        _Señor the illustrious Don John Montfort._
+
+_Honoured Señor and Brother:_--There are several months that I wrote to
+inform you of the deeply deplored death of my lamented husband, Señor
+Don Richard Montfort. Your letter of condolation and advice was balm
+poured upon my bleeding wounds, received before yesterday at the hands
+of my banker, Don Miguel Pietoso. You are the brother of my adored
+husband, your words are as if spoken from his casket. You tell me, stay
+at home, remain in quietness, till these alarms of war are over. Alas!
+respectable señor, to accomplish this? Havana is since the shocking
+affair of the _Maine_ in uproar; on each side are threats, are cries,
+"Death to the Americanos!" My bewept angel, Don Richard, was in his
+heart Spanish, by birth American; I see brows black upon me--me, a
+Castilian!--when I go from my house. Already they speak of to burn the
+houses of wealthy Americans, to drive forth those dwelling in.
+
+Again, señor, my daughter, your niece Margarita--what to do, I ask you,
+of this young person? She is Cuban, she is fanatic, she is impossible. I
+apply myself to instruct her as her station and fortune demand, as
+befits a Spanish lady of rank; she insubordinates me, she makes mockery
+of my position as head of her house. She teach her parrot to cry "Viva
+Cuba Libre!" She play at open windows her guitar, songs of Cuban rebels,
+forbidden by the authorities. I exert my power, I exhort, I
+command,--she laughs me at the nose, and sings more loud. I attend that
+in few days we are all the two in prison. What to do? you already know
+that her betrothed, Señor Santillo de Santayana, is dead a year ago of a
+calenture. Her grief was excessive; she intended to die, and made
+preparation costing large sums of money for her obsequies. She forget
+all now, she says, for her country. In this alarming time, the freedom
+her father permitted her (his extreme philanthropy overcoming his
+judgmatism) becomes impossible. I implore you, highly honoured señor and
+brother, to write your commands to this unhappy child, that she submit
+herself to me, her guardian in nature, until you can assert your legal
+potencies. I intend shortly to make retreat in the holy convent of the
+White Sisters, few miles from here. Rita accompanionates me, and I trust
+there to change the spirit of rebellion so shocking in a young person
+unmarried, into the soul docile and sheep-like as becomes a highly
+native Spanish maiden. The Sisters are of justice celebrated for their
+pious austerities and the firmness of their rule. Rita will remain with
+them until peace is assured, or until your emissaries apport distinct
+advice.
+
+For me, your kind and gracious inquiries would have watered my heart
+were it not already blasted. Desolation must attend my remaining years;
+but through them all I shall be, dear señor and brother, your most
+grateful and in affliction devoted sister and servant,
+
+                               MARIA CONCEPCION DE NARAGUA MONTFORT.
+  _Havana, April 30, 1898._
+
+
+DEAREST, DEAREST UNCLE:--My stepmother says she has written to you
+concerning me. I implore you, as you loved your brother, my sainted
+father, to believe no single word she says. This woman is of a
+duplicity, a falseness, impossible for your lofty soul to comprehend.
+It needs a Cuban, my uncle, to understand a Spaniard. She wants to take
+me to the convent, to those terrible White Sisters, who will shave my
+head and lacerate my flesh with heated scourges,--Manuela has told me
+about them; scourges of iron chains knotted and made hot,--me, a
+Protestant, daughter of a free American. Uncle John, it is my corpse
+alone that she will carry there, understand that! Never will I go alive.
+I have daggers; here on my wall are many of them, beautifully arranged;
+I polish them daily, it is my one mournful pleasure; they are sharp as
+lightning, and their lustre dazzles the eye. I have poison also; a drop,
+and the daughter of your brother is white and cold at the feet of her
+murderess. Enough! she will be avenged. Carlos Montfort lives; and you,
+too, I know it, I feel it, would spring, would leap across the sea to
+avenge your Rita, who fondly loves you. Hear me swear, my uncle, on my
+knees; never, never will I go alive to that place of death, the convent.
+(I pray you to pardon this blot; I spilt the ink, kneeling in passion;
+what would you have?)
+
+                                              Your unhappy
+                                                       RITA.
+
+
+BELOVED MARGUERITE:--I have written to our dear and honoured uncle of
+the perils which surround me. My life, my reason, are at stake. It may
+be that I have but a few weeks more to live. Every day, therefore,
+dearest, let me pour out my soul to you, now my one comfort on earth,
+since my heart was laid in the grave of my Santayana.
+
+It is night; all the house is wrapped in slumber; I alone wake and weep.
+I seldom sleep now, save by fitful snatches. I sit as at this moment, by
+my little table, my taper illuminated, in my peignoir (you would be
+pleased with my peignoir, my poor Marguerite! it is white _mousseline
+d'Inde_, flowing very full from the shoulders, falling in veritable
+clouds about me, with deep ruffles of Valenciennes and bands of
+insertion; the ribbons white, of course; maidens should mourn in white,
+is it not so, Marguerite? no colour has approached me since my
+bereavement; fortunately black and white are both becoming to me, while
+that other, Concepcion, looks like a sick orange in either. Even the
+flowers in my room are solely white.)
+
+It seems a thousand years since I heard from you, my cool snow-pearl of
+cousins. Write more often to your Rita, she implores you. I pine for
+news of you, of Uncle John, of all at dear, dear Fernley. Alas! how
+young I was there! a simple child, sporting among the Northern daisies.
+Now, in the whirlwind of my passionate existence, I look back to that
+peaceful summer. For you, Marguerite, the green oasis, the palm-trees,
+the crystal spring; for me, the sand storm and the fiery death. No
+matter! I live and die a daughter of Cuba, the gold star on my brow,
+the three colours painted on my heart. Good night, beloved! I kiss the
+happy paper that goes to you. Till to-morrow, and while I live,
+
+                                                        Your
+                                                          RITA.
+
+
+                                                HAVANA, May 1, 1898.
+
+Not until afternoon goes the mail steamer, Marguerite, only pearl of my
+heart. I wrote you a few burning words last night; then I flung myself
+on my bed, hoping to lose my sorrows for a few minutes in sleep. I
+slept, a thing hardly known to me at present; it was the sleep of
+exhaustion, Marguerite. When I woke, Manuela was putting back the
+curtains to let in the light of dawn. It is still early morning, fresh
+and dewy, and I am here in the garden. At no time of the day is the
+garden more beautiful than now, in the purity of the day's birth. I have
+described it to you at night, with the _cocuyos_ gleaming like lamps in
+the green dusk of the orange-trees, or the moonlight striking the world
+to silver. I wish you could see it now--this garden of my soul, so soon,
+it may be, to be destroyed by ruthless hands of savage Spaniards. The
+palms stand like stately pillars; till the green plumes wave in the
+morning breeze, one fancies a temple or cathedral, with aisles of
+crowned verdure. Behind these stand the banana-trees, rows and rows,
+with clusters hanging thick, crimson and gold. Would Peggy be happy
+here, do you think? Poor little Peggy! How often I long to cut down a
+tree, to send her whole bunches of the fruit she delights in. The
+mangoes, too! I used to think I could not live without mangoes. When I
+went to you, it appeared that I must die without my fruits; now their
+rich pulp dries untasted by my lips: what have I to do with food, save
+the bare necessary to support what life remains? I am waiting now for my
+coffee; at this moment Manuela brings it, with the grape-fruit and
+rolls, and places it here on the table of green marble, close by the
+fountain where I sit. The fountain soothes my suffering heart, as it
+tinkles in the broad basin of green marble. Nature, Marguerite, speaks
+to the heart of despair. You have not known despair, my best one; may it
+be long, long before you do. Among her other vices, this woman,
+Concepcion, would like to starve me, in my own house. She counts the
+rolls, she knows how many lumps of sugar I put in my coffee; an hour
+will dawn--I say no more! I am patient, Marguerite, I am forbearing, a
+statue, marble in the midst of fire; but beyond a certain point I will
+not endure persecution, and I say to you, let Concepcion Montfort, the
+widow of my sainted father, beware!
+
+[Illustration: IN THE GARDEN.]
+
+Adios, my Magnolia Flower! I must feed my birds. Already they are awake
+and calling the mistress they love. They hang--I have told you--in large
+airy cages, all round under the eaves of the summer-house beside the
+fountain. They are beautiful, Margaret, the Java sparrows, the little
+love-birds, the splendid macaw, the paroquets, and mocking-birds; but
+king among them all is Chiquito, our parrot, Marguerite, yours and mine,
+the one link here that binds me to my Northern home; for I may call
+Fernley my home, Uncle John has said it; the lonely orphan can think of
+one spot where tender hearts beat for her, not passionately, but with
+steadfast pulses. Chico is in superb health; he is--I tell you every
+time--a revelation in the animal kingdom. More than this, he is a bird
+of heart; he feels for me, feels intensely, in this dark time. Only
+yesterday he bit old Julio severely; I am persuaded it was his love for
+me that prompted the act. Julio is a Spaniard of the Spaniards, the
+slave of Concepcion. He attempted to cajole my Chico, he offered him
+sugar. To-day he goes with his arm in a sling, and curses the Cuban
+bird, with threats against his life. Never mind, Marguerite! a time will
+soon come--I can say no more. I am dumb; the grave is less silent; but
+do you think your Rita will submit eternally to tyranny and despotism?
+No, you know she will not, it is not her nature. You look, my best one,
+for some outbreak of my passionate nature, you attend that the volcano
+spring some sudden hour into flame, overwhelming all in its path. You
+are right, heart of my heart. You shall not be disappointed. Rita will
+prove herself worthy of your love. How? hush! ask not, dream not! trust
+me and be silent.
+
+                                      MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE STORM BURSTS.
+
+
+GREATLY HONOURED SIR:--I permit myself the privilege of addressing your
+Excellency, my name being known to you as man of business of late your
+admired brother, Señor Don Ricardo Montfort. I find myself, señor, in a
+position of great hardness between the two admirable ladies, Señora
+Montfort, widow of Don Ricardo, and his beautiful daughter, the Señorita
+Margarita. These ladies, admirable, as I have said, in beauty,
+character, and abilities, find it, nevertheless, impossible to live in
+harmony. As man of affairs, I am present at painful scenes, which wring
+the heart. Each cries to me to save her from the other. The señora
+desires to make retreat at the convent of the White Sisters, thrice
+holy and beatified persons, but of a strictness repugnant to the lively
+and ardent spirit of the señorita. Last evening took place a terrible
+enactment, at which I most unluckily assisted. Señora Montfort permitted
+her lofty spirit to assert itself more strongly than her delicate
+corporosity was able to endure, and fell into violent hystericality. Her
+shrieks wanted little of arousing the neighbourhood; the servants became
+appalled and lost their reason. Señorita Margarita maintained her
+calmness, and even refused to consider the señora's condition as
+serious. On the assurance of the young lady and the señora's maid, I was
+obliged to accept the belief that the señora would shortly recover if
+left to herself, and came away in deep grief, leaving that illustrious
+matron--I speak with respect--in fits upon the floor. One would have
+said, a child of six deprived of its toy. Greatly honoured Señor
+Montfort, I am a man no longer young. Having myself no conjugal
+ameliorations, I make no pretence to comprehend the more delicate and
+complex nature of females. I am cut to the heart; the señora scrupled
+not to address me as "Old Fool." Heaven is my witness that I have
+endeavoured of my best lights to smoothen the path for her well-born and
+at present bereaved feet. But what can I do? Neither lady will listen to
+me. The señorita, let me hasten to say, shows me always a tender, I
+might without too great a presumption say a filial, kindness. I held her
+in my arms from the day of her birth, señor; she is the flower of the
+world to me. When she takes me by the hands and says, "Dear old Donito
+Miguelito, let me do as I desire and all will be well!" I have no
+strength to resist her. Had I a house of my own, I would take this
+charming child home with me, to be my daughter while she would; but--a
+bachelor living in two rooms--what would you, señor? it is not
+possible. Deign, I beseech you, to consider this my respectful report,
+and if circumstances are proprietary come to my assistance, or send me
+instructions how to act.
+
+Accept, señor, the assurance of my perfect consideration, and believe me
+
+                              Your obedient, humble servant,
+                                                       MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+TO THE HONOURABLE SEÑOR DON JOHN MONTFORT.
+
+_Honoured and dear Brother:_--Since I wrote you last week, things the
+most frightful have happened. Rita's conduct grew more and more violent
+and unruled; in despair, I sent for Don Miguel. This old man, though of
+irreproached character, is of a weakness pitiable to see in one wearing
+the form of mankind. I called upon him to uphold me, and command Rita to
+obey the wife of her father. He had only smooth words for each of us,
+and endeavoured to charm this wretched child, when terror should have
+been his weapon. I leave you to imagine if she was influenced by his
+gentle admonitions. To my face she caressed him, and he responded to her
+caresses. Don Miguel is an old man, eighty years of age, but
+nevertheless my anger, my just anger, rose to a height beyond my power
+of control. I fainted from excess of emotion; I lay as one dead, and no
+heart stirred of my sufferings. Since then I have been in my bed, with
+no power more than has a babe of the cradle. This morning Margarita came
+to me and expressed regret for her conduct, saying that she was willing
+from now to submit herself to my righteous authority. I forgave her,--I
+am a Christian, dear brother, and cannot forget the principles of my
+holy religion,--and we embraced with tears. This evening we go to the
+convent, where I hope to find ease for my soul-wounds and to subdue the
+frightful disposition of my stepdaughter. I feel it my duty to relate
+these occurrences to you, dear and honoured brother, for I feel that I
+may succumb under the weight of my afflictions. We start this evening,
+and Don Miguel will inform you of our departure and safe arrival at the
+holy convent, whither he accompanies us.
+
+Permit me to express, dear brother, the sentiments of exalted
+consideration with which I must ever regard you as next in blood to my
+adored consort, and believe me
+
+                           Your devoted,
+                               MARIA CONCEPCION DE NARAGUA MONTFORT.
+
+
+GREATLY HONOURED AND ILLUSTRIOUS SIR:--Let me entreat you to prepare
+yourself for news of alarming nature. Yesterday evening I was honoured
+by the commands of the Señora Montfort, that I convey her and Señorita
+Margarita to the holy convent of the White Sisters. My age, señor, is
+such that a scene of emotion is infinitely distressing to me, but I
+could not disobey the commands of this illustrious lady, the widow of my
+kindest patron and friend. I went, prepared for tears, for outcries,
+perhaps for violent resistance, for the ardent and high-strung nature of
+my beloved Señorita Margarita is well known to me. Figure to yourself,
+honoured señor, my surprise at finding this charming damsel calm,
+composed, even smiling. She greeted me with her accustomed tenderness; a
+more enchanting personality does not, I am assured, adorn the earth than
+that of this lovely child. She bade me have no alarms for her, that all
+was well, she was reconciled to her lot; indeed, she added that she
+could not now wish things otherwise. Amazed, but also enchanted with her
+docility and sweetness, I gave her an old man's blessing, and my prayers
+that the rigour of the holy Sisters might be softened toward her tender
+and high-spirited youth. She replied that she had no fear of the
+Sisters; that in truth she thought they would give her no trouble of
+any kind. I was ravished with this assurance, having, I may confess it
+to you, señor, dreaded the contact between the señorita and the holy
+Mother, a woman of incredible force and piety. But I must hasten my
+narrative. At seven o'clock last evening two volantes were in readiness
+at the door of the Montfort mansion. The first was driven by the
+señora's own man, the second by Pasquale, a negro devoted since
+childhood to the señorita. The señora would have placed her daughter in
+the first of these vehicles; but no! the señorita sprang lightly into
+the second volante, followed by her maid, a young person, also tenderly
+attached to her. Interposing myself to produce calm, I persuade the
+admirable señora to take the position that etiquette commanded, in the
+first carriage. It is done; I seat myself by her side; procession is
+made. The way to the convent of the White Sisters, señor, is a steep
+and rugged one; on either hand are savage passes, are mountains of
+precipitation. To conceive what happened, how is it possible? When we
+reached the convent gate, the second volante was empty. Assassinated
+with terror, I make demand of Pasquale; he admits that he may have slept
+during the long traject up the hill. He swears that he heard no sound,
+that no word was addressed to him. He calls the saints to witness that
+he is innocent; the saints make no reply, but that is not uncommon. I
+search; I rend the air with my cries; alone silence responds to me. The
+señora is carried fainting into the convent, and I return to Havana, a
+man distracted. I should say that in the carriage was found the long
+mantle in which the señorita had been gracefully attired; to its fold a
+note pinned, addressed me in affectionate terms, begging her dear Donito
+Miguelito not to have fear, that she was going to Don Carlos, her
+brother, and all would be well. Since then is two days, señor, that I
+have not closed the eye. I attend a fit of illness, from grief and
+anxiousness. In duty I intelligence you of this dolorous event, praying
+you not to think me guilty of sin without pardon. I have deputed a
+messenger of trust to scrub thoroughly the country in search of Don
+Carlos, death to await him if he return without news of my beloved
+señorita. He is gone now twelve hours. If it arrive me at any moment the
+tidings, I make instantly to convey them to your Excellency, whether of
+joy or affliction.
+
+Receive, highly honoured señor, the assurance of my consideration the
+most elevated.
+
+                                                   MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ON THE WAY.
+
+
+"Ah, señorita! what will become of us? I can go no farther. Will this
+wilderness never end?"
+
+"Courage, Manuela! Courage, daughter of Cuba! See, it is growing light
+already. Look at those streaks of gold in the east. A few moments, and
+the sky will be bright; then we shall see where we are going, and all
+will be well. In the meantime, we are free, and on Cuban soil. What can
+harm us?"
+
+Rita looked around her with kindling eyes. She was standing on a rock
+that jutted from the hillside; it was a friendly rock, and they had been
+sleeping under it, wrapped in their warm cloaks, for the night was
+cool. A group of palms nodded their green plumes over the rock; on
+every side stretched a tangle of shrubs and tall grasses, broken here
+and there by palms, or by rocks like this. Standing thus in the early
+morning light, Rita was a picturesque figure indeed. She was dressed in
+a blouse and short skirt of black serge, with a white kerchief knotted
+around her throat, and another twisted carelessly around her
+broad-brimmed straw hat. Her beautiful face was alight with eager
+inquiry and determination; her eyes roved over the landscape, as if
+seeking some familiar figure; but all was strange so far. Manuela,
+crouching at the foot of the rock, had lost, for the moment, all the
+fire of her patriotism. She was cold, poor Manuela; also, she had had a
+heavy bag to carry, and her arms ached, and she was hungry, and, if the
+truth must be told, rather cross. It was absurd to bring all these
+things into the desert. What use for the white silk blouse, or the lace
+fichu? but indeed they had no weight, whereas this monster of a--
+
+"How is Chico?" asked Rita, coming down from the rock. "Poor bird! what
+does he think of our wandering? he must be in need of food, Manuela. You
+brought the box of seed?"
+
+"I did, señorita; as to the need of birdseed in a wilderness of hideous
+forest, I have nothing to say. My fingers are so cramped from carrying
+this detestable cage, I shall never recover the full use of them. But
+the señorita must be obeyed."
+
+"Assuredly she must be obeyed!" said Rita; and a flash of her eyes added
+force to the words. "Could I have come away, I ask you, and left this
+faithful, this patriot bird, to starve, or be murdered outright? Old
+Julio would have wrung his neck, you know it well, Manuela, the first
+time he spoke out from his heart, spoke the words of freedom and
+patriotism that his mistress has taught him. Poor Chiquito! thou lovest
+me? thou art glad that I brought thee away from that place of tyranny
+and bloodshed? speak to thy mistress, Chico!"
+
+But Chico's spirits had been ruffled, as well as Manuela's, by being
+carried about in his cage, at unseemly hours, when he should have been
+hanging quietly in the verandah, where he belonged. He looked sulky, and
+only said, "_Caramba! no mi gusta!_"
+
+"He is hungry! he starves!" cried Rita; "give me the seed!" Sitting down
+on the rock, she proceeded to feed the parrot, as composedly as if they
+were indeed on the wide shaded verandah, instead of on a wild hillside,
+far from sight or sound of anything human.
+
+"And the señorita's own breakfast?" said Manuela at last, when Chiquito
+had had enough, and had deigned to relax a little, and even to mutter,
+"_Mi gustan todas!_" "Is the señorita not also dying of hunger? for
+myself, I perish, but that is of little consequence, save that my death
+will leave the señorita alone--with the parrot."
+
+Rita burst into merry laughter. "My poor Manuela!" she said. "Thou shalt
+not perish. Breakfast? we will have it this moment. Where is the bag?"
+
+The bag being produced,--it really was a heavy one, and it was hardly to
+be wondered at that Manuela should be a little peevish about it,--Rita
+drew from it a substantial box of chocolate, and a tin of biscuits. "My
+child, we breakfast!" she announced. "If kings desire to breakfast more
+royally, I make them my compliment. For free Cubans, bread and chocolate
+is a feast. Feast, then, Manuela mine. Eat, and be happy!"
+
+Bread--or rather, delicate biscuits, and chocolate, were indeed a feast
+to the two hungry girls. They nibbled and crunched, and Manuela's
+spirits rose with every bite. Rita's had no need to rise. She was
+having a real adventure; her dreams were coming true; she was a
+bona-fide heroine, in a bona-fide "situation." "What have we in the bag,
+best of Manuelas?" she asked. "I told you in a general way; I even added
+some trifles, for Carlos's comfort; poor dear Carlos! But tell me what
+you put in, my best one!"
+
+Manuela cast a rueful glance at the plump valise.
+
+"The white silk blouse," she said; "the white peignoir with swansdown."
+
+"In case of sickness!" cried Rita, interrupting. "You would not have me
+ill, far from my home, and bereft of every slightest comfort, Manuela?
+surely you would not; I know your kind heart too well. Besides, the
+peignoir weighs nothing; a feather, a puff of vapour. Go on! what else?"
+
+"Changes of linen, of course," said Manuela. "The gold-mounted
+toilet-set; two bottles of eau de Cologne; cigarettes for the Señorito
+Don Carlos; bonbons; the ivory writing-case; the feather fan; three
+pairs of shoes--"
+
+"Enough! enough!" cried Rita. "We shall do well, Manuela. You have been
+an angel of thoughtfulness. You did not bring any jewels? no? I thought
+perhaps the Etruscan gold set, so simple, yet so rich, might suit my
+altered life well enough; but no matter. After all, what have I to do
+with jewels now? The next question is, how are we to find Carlos?"
+
+"To find Don Carlos?" echoed Manuela. "You know where he is, señorita?"
+
+"But, assuredly!" said Rita, and she looked about her confidently. "He
+is--here!"
+
+"Here!" repeated Manuela.
+
+"In the mountains!" said Rita, waving her hand vaguely in the direction
+of the horizon. "It is a search; we must look for him, without doubt;
+but he is--here--somewhere. Come, Manuela, do not look so despairing. I
+tell you, we shall meet friends, it may be at any turn. The mountains
+are full of the soldiers of Cuba; the first ones we meet will take us to
+Carlos."
+
+"Yes," said Manuela. "But what if we met the others, señorita? what if
+we met the Spanish soldiers first? Hark! what was that?"
+
+A sound was heard close behind them; a rustling, sliding sound, as if
+something or somebody were making his way swiftly through the tall
+grass. Manuela clutched her mistress's arm, trembling; Rita, rather
+pale, but composed, looking steadily in the direction of the noise. It
+came nearer--the grass rustled and shook close beside them; and out from
+the tufted tangle came--three large land-crabs, scuttling along on their
+ungainly claws, and evidently in a hurry. Manuela uttered a shriek, but
+Rita laughed aloud.
+
+"Good luck!" she said. "They are good Cubans, the land-crabs. Many a
+good meal has Carlos made on them, poor fellow. If we followed them,
+Manuela? They may be going--somewhere. Let us see!"
+
+The crabs were soon out of sight, but the two girls, taking up their
+burdens, followed in the direction they had taken, along the hillside,
+going they knew not whither.
+
+There seemed to be some faint suggestion of a path. The grasses were
+bent aside, and broken here and there; something had trodden here,
+whether feet of men or of animals one could not tell. But glad to have
+any guide, however insufficient, the girls amused themselves by trying
+to discover fresh marks on tree or shrub or grass-clump. It was a wild
+tangle, palms and mangoes, coarse grass and savage-looking aloes, with
+wild vines running riot everywhere. So far, they had seen no sign of
+human life, and the sun was now well up, his rays beating down bright
+and hot. Suddenly, coming to a turn on the hillside, they heard voices;
+a moment later, and they were standing by a human dwelling.
+
+[Illustration: "THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO THE
+GLOWING FACE."]
+
+At first sight it looked more like the burrow of some wild animal. It
+was little more than a hole dug in the side of the clay bank. Some
+boughs and palm-leaves were wattled together to form a rustic porch, and
+under this porch three people were sitting, on the bare ground,--two
+women, one young, the other old, and a little child, evidently belonging
+to the young woman. They were clothed in a few rags; their cheeks were
+hollow with famine, their eyes burning with fever. The old woman was
+stirring a handful of meal into a pot of water; the others looked on
+with painful eagerness. Rita recoiled with a low cry of terror. She had
+heard of this; these were some of the unhappy peasants who had been
+driven from their farms. She had never seen anything like it before.
+This--this was not the play she had come to see.
+
+The women looked up, and saw the two girls standing near. Instantly they
+began to cry out, in wailing voices. "Go! go away! there is nothing for
+you; nothing! we have not more than a mouthful for ourselves. Take
+yourselves away, and leave us in peace."
+
+Rita came forward, the tears running down her cheeks. "Oh, poor things!"
+she cried. "Poor souls, I want nothing. I am not hungry! See!--I have
+brought food for you. Quick, Manuela, the bag--the biscuits, child! Give
+them to me! Here, thou little one, take this, and eat; there is plenty
+more!"
+
+The famished child looked from the biscuit to the glowing face that bent
+over it. It made a feeble movement; then drew back in fear. The old
+woman still clamoured to the girls to go away; but the younger snatched
+the biscuit, and began feeding the child hastily, yet carefully.
+"Mother, be still!" she said, imperiously. "Hush that noise! do you not
+see this is no poor wretch like ourselves? This is a noble lady come
+from heaven to bring us help. Thanks, señorita!" With a quick, graceful
+movement, she lifted the hem of Rita's dress and pressed it to her lips.
+"We were dying!" she said, simply. "It was the last morsel; we meant to
+give it to the little one, and some one might find it when we were dead,
+and keep the life in it."
+
+"But, eat; eat!" cried Rita, filling the hands of both women with
+chocolate and biscuits. "It is dreadful, terrible! oh, I have heard of
+it, I have read of it, but I had not seen, I had not known. Oh, if my
+cousin Margaret were here, she would know what to do! Eat, my poor
+starving ones. You shall never be hungry again if I can help it."
+
+The child pulled its mother's ragged gown.
+
+"Is it an angel?" it asked, its mouth full of chocolate.
+
+"Hear the innocent!" said the mother. "No, lamb, not yet an angel, only
+a noble lady on the road to heaven. See, señorita! he was pretty, while
+his cheeks were round and full. Still, his eyes are pretty, are they
+not?"
+
+"They are lovely! he is a darling!" cried Rita; and she took the child
+in her arms, and bent over him to hide the tears. Was this truly Rita
+Montfort? Yes, the same Rita, only awake now, for the first time now in
+her pretty idle life. She felt of the little limbs. They were mere skin
+and bone; no sign of baby chubbiness, no curve or dimple. Indeed, she
+had come but just in time. "Listen!" she said, presently. "Where do you
+come from? where is your home?"
+
+The old woman made a gesture as wide and vague as Rita's own of a few
+minutes before. "Our home, noble lady? the wilderness is our home
+to-day. Our little farm, our cottage, our patch of cane, all gone, all
+destroyed. Only the graves of our dead left."
+
+"We come from Velaya," said the young woman. "It is miles from here; we
+were driven out by the Spaniards. My father was killed before our eyes;
+she is not herself since, poor soul; do we wonder at it? we have
+wandered ever since. My husband--do I know if he is alive or dead? He
+was with our men, he knows nothing of what has happened. If he returns,
+he will think us all dead. Poor Pedro! These are the conditions of war,
+señorita."
+
+She spoke very quietly; but her simple words pierced deeper than the
+plaints of the poor old woman.
+
+"Listen, again!" said Rita. "I am going to my brother; he also is with
+our army; he is with the General. Do you know, can you tell me, in what
+direction to look for them? When I find them, I will see; I will have
+provision made for you. You must stay here now, for a few hours; but
+have courage, help will come soon. My brother Carlos and the good
+General will care for you. Only tell me where to find them, and all will
+be well."
+
+She spoke so confidently that hope and courage seemed to go from her,
+and creep into the hearts of the forlorn creatures. The baby smiled, and
+stretched out its little fleshless hands for more of the precious food;
+even the old grandmother crept a little nearer, to kiss the hand of
+their benefactress, and call on all the saints to bless her and bring
+her to Paradise. The younger woman said there had been firing yesterday
+in that direction, and she pointed westward over the brow of a hill.
+They had seen no Cuban soldiers since they had been here, but a boy had
+passed by this morning, on his way to join the General, and he took the
+same westerly direction, and said the nearest pickets were not far
+distant.
+
+"And why did you not follow him?" asked Rita. "Why did you not go with
+him, and throw yourself at the feet of our good General, as I will do
+for you now? Yes, yes, I know; you were too weak, poor souls; you had no
+strength to travel farther. But I am young and strong, and so is
+Manuela; and we will go together, and soon we will come again, or send
+help for you. Manuela, will you come with me? or will it be better for
+you to stay and care for these poor ones while I seek Don Carlos?"
+
+But Manuela was, very properly, scandalised at the thought of her young
+lady's going off alone on any such quest. It appeared, she said, as if
+the señorita had left her excellent intelligence behind in Havana. These
+people would do very well now; they had food; they had, indeed, all
+there was, practically, and the señorita might herself starve, if they
+did not find Don Carlos soon. That was enough, surely; let them remain
+as they were.
+
+"You are right, Manuela!" said Rita, nodding sagely. "We must go
+together. Your heart does not appear to be stirred as mine is; but never
+mind--the hungry are fed, and that is the thing of importance. Farewell,
+then, friends! How do they call you, that I may know how to tell those
+whom I shall send?"
+
+The younger woman was named Dolores, she said. Her husband was Pedro
+Valdez, and this old one was his mother. If the señorita should see
+Pedro--if by Heaven's mercy he should be with the General at this
+moment, all would indeed be well. In any case, their prayers and
+blessings would go with the señorita and her valued attendant.
+
+Often and often, the soft Spanish speech of compliment and ceremony
+sounded hollow and artificial in Rita's ears, even though she had been
+used to it all her life; but there was no doubting the sincerity of
+these earnest and heartfelt thanks. Her own heart felt very warm, as she
+turned, with a final wave of the hands, to take a last look at the
+little group by the earth-hovel.
+
+"We have made a good beginning, Manuela," she said. "We have saved three
+lives, I truly believe. Now we shall go on with new courage. I feel,
+Manuela, that I can do anything--meet any foe. Ah! what is that? a
+snake! a horrible green snake! I faint, Manuela! I die--no, I don't.
+See, I am the sister of a soldier, and I am not going to die any more,
+when I see these fearful creatures. Manuela, do you observe?
+I--am--firm; marble, Manuela, is soft in comparison with me. Ah, he is
+gone away. This is a world of peril, my poor child. Let us hasten on;
+Carlos waits for us, though he does not know it."
+
+Talking thus, with much more of the same kind, Rita pushed on, and
+Manuela followed as best she might. Rita had left the parrot's cage
+under charge of Dolores, and carried the bird on her shoulder, with only
+a cord fastened to his leg. Chico was well used to this, and made no
+effort to fly away; indeed, he had reached an age when it was more
+comfortable to sit on a soft shoulder and be fed and petted, than to
+flutter among strange trees and find his living for himself; so he sat
+still, crooning to himself from time to time, and cocking his bright
+yellow eye at his mistress, to see what she thought of it all.
+
+It was hard work, pushing through the jungle. The girls' hands were
+scratched and torn with brambles; Rita's delicate shoes were in a sad
+condition; her dress began to show more than one jagged rent. Still she
+made her way forward, with undaunted zeal, cheering the weary Manuela
+with jest and story. Indeed, the girl seemed thoroughly transformed, and
+her Northern cousins, who had known and loved her even in her wilful
+indolence, would hardly have recognised their Rita in this valiant
+maiden, who made nothing of heat, dust, or even scorpions, and pressed
+on and on in her quest of her brother.
+
+After an hour of weary walking, the girls came to a road, or something
+that passed for a road. There was no sign of life on it, but there was
+something that made them start, then stop and look at each other. Beside
+the rough path, in a tangle of vines and thorny cactus, stood the ruin
+of a tiny chapel. A group of noble palms towered above it; from the
+stony bank behind it bubbled a little fountain. The door of the chapel
+was gone; it was long since there had been glass in the windows, and the
+empty spaces showed only emptiness within; yet the bell still hung in
+the mouldering belfry; the bell-rope trailed above the sunken porch, its
+whole length twined with flowering creepers. It was a strange sight.
+
+"Manuela!" cried Rita; "do you see?"
+
+"I see the holy chapel," said Manuela, who was a good Catholic. "Some
+saintly man lived here in old times. Pity, that the altar is gone. It
+must have been a pretty chapel, señorita."
+
+"The bell!" cried Rita. "Do you see the bell, Manuela? what if we rang
+it, to let Carlos know that we are near? It is a good idea, a superb
+idea!"
+
+"Señorita, I implore you not to touch it! For heaven's sake, señorita!
+Alas, what have you done?"
+
+Manuela clasped her hands, and fairly wailed in terror, for Rita had
+grasped the bell-rope, and was pulling it with right good will. Ding!
+ding! the notes rang out loud and clear. The rock behind caught up the
+echo, and sent it flying across to the hill beyond. Ding! ding! The
+parrot screamed, and Rita herself, after sounding two or three peals,
+dropped the rope, and stood with parted lips and anxious eyes, waiting
+to see what would come of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS.
+
+
+A sound of voices! eager voices of men, calling to one another. The
+tread of hasty feet, the noise of breaking bushes, of men sliding,
+jumping, running, hurrying, coming every instant nearer and nearer. What
+had Rita done, indeed? Manuela crouched on the mouldering floor at her
+mistress's feet, too terrified even to cry out now; Rita Montfort drew
+her dagger, and waited.
+
+Next instant the narrow doorway was thronged with men; swarthy
+black-browed men, ragged, hatless, shoeless, but all armed, all with
+rifle cocked, all pressing forward with eager, wondering looks.
+
+"Who rang the bell? what has happened?"
+
+A babel of voices arose; Rita could not have made herself heard if she
+would; and, indeed, for the moment no words came to her lips. But there
+was one to speak for her. Chiquito, the old gray parrot, raised his head
+from her shoulder, where he had been quietly dozing, and flapped his
+wings, and cried aloud:
+
+"_Viva Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva Gomez! a muerto Espana!_" There was
+a moment's silence; then the voices broke out again in wild cries and
+cheers.
+
+"Ah, the Cuban bird! the parrot of freedom! Welcome, señorita! You bring
+us good luck! Welcome to the Cuban ladies and their glorious bird! _Viva
+Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva el papageno!_ long life to the illustrious
+lady!"
+
+Rita, herself again, stepped from the chapel, erect and joyous, holding
+the parrot aloft.
+
+"I thank you, brothers!" she said. "I come to seek freedom among you; I
+am a daughter of Cuba. Does any among you know Don Carlos Montfort?"
+
+The babel rose again. Know Don Carlos? but surely! was he not their
+captain? Even now he was at the General's quarters, consulting him about
+the movements of the next day. What joy! what honour for the poor sons
+of Cuba to form the escort of the peerless sister of Don Carlos to
+headquarters! But the distance was nothing. They would carry the
+señorita and her attendant; they would make a throne, and transport them
+as lightly as if swans drew them. Ah, the fortunate day! the lucky omen
+of the blessed parrot!
+
+They babbled like children, crowding round Chiquito, extolling his
+beauty, his wisdom, the miracle of his timely utterance. Chiquito seemed
+to think, for his part, that he had done enough. He paid no attention to
+the blandishments of his ragged admirers, but turned himself upside
+down, always a sign of contempt with him, said "Caramba!" and would say
+nothing more.
+
+A little procession was formed, the least ragged of the patriots leading
+the way, Rita and Manuela following. The others crowded together behind,
+exclaiming, wondering, pleased as children with this wonderful
+happening. Thus they crossed a ragged hill, threaded a grove of palms,
+and finally came upon an open space, roughly cleared, in the middle of
+which stood a tent, with several rude huts around it. The soldiers
+explained with eager gestures. Behold the tent of the illustrious
+General. Behold the dwelling of Don Rodrigo, of Don Uberto, of Don
+Carlos; behold, finally, Don Carlos himself, emerging from the General's
+tent. The gallant ragamuffins drew back, and became on the instant
+spectators at a play. A slender young man came out of the tent,
+evidently to inquire the meaning of the commotion. At what he saw he
+turned apparently to stone, and stood, cigarette in hand, staring at the
+vision before him. But for Rita there was no hesitation now. Running to
+her brother, she threw her arms around his neck with unaffected joy.
+
+"Carlos!" she cried. "I have come to you. I had no one else to go to.
+They were taking me to the convent, and I would have died sooner. I have
+come to you, to live or die with you, for our country."
+
+Manuela wept; the soldiers were moved to tears, and brushed their ragged
+sleeves across their eyes. But Carlos Montfort did not weep.
+
+"Rita!" he said, in English, returning his sister's caress
+affectionately, but with little demonstration of joy. "What is the
+meaning of this? what induced you--how could you do such a thing as
+this? where do you come from? how did you find your way?" And he added
+to himself, "And what the mischief am I to do with you now you are
+here?"
+
+Rita explained hastily; gave a dramatic sketch of her adventures, not
+forgetting the unfortunate peasants, who must, she said, be rescued that
+instant from their wretched plight; and wound up with a vivid
+description of the bell-ringing, the gathering of the patriot forces,
+and the magnificent behaviour of her beloved Chiquito.
+
+"Good gracious! you have brought the parrot, too!" cried poor Carlos.
+"Rita! Rita! this is too much."
+
+At this moment a new person appeared on the scene. A tall old man,
+stooping his head, came out from the tent, and greeted the wandering
+damsel with grave courtesy.
+
+Perhaps the General had seen too much of life and of war to be surprised
+at anything; perhaps he was sorry for the embarrassment of his young
+lieutenant, and wished to make things easier for him; however it was, he
+apparently found it the most natural thing in the world for a young
+lady and her maid to be wandering in the wilderness in search of the
+Cuban army. The first thing, he said, was to make the señorita
+comfortable, as comfortable as their limited powers would allow. She
+would take his tent, of course; it was her own from that instant; but
+equally of course neither Rita nor Carlos would hear of this. A friendly
+dispute ensued; and it was finally decided that Rita and Manuela were to
+make themselves as comfortable as might be in Carlos's own tent, while
+he shared that of his commander. The General yielded only under protest
+to this arrangement; yet he did yield, seeing that resistance would
+distress both brother and sister. Since the señorita would not take his
+tent, he said, the next best thing was that she should accept his
+hospitality, such as he could offer her, within it; or rather, before
+it, since the evening was warm. His men were even now preparing the
+evening meal; when the señorita was refreshed and rested, he hoped she
+and Don Carlos would share it with him.
+
+Rita withdrew into the little hut, in a glow of patriotism and
+enthusiasm. "Manuela," she cried, "did you ever see such nobleness, such
+lofty yet gracious courtesy? Ah! I knew he was a man to die for. How
+happy we are, to be here at last, after dreaming of it so long! I
+thrill; I burn with sacred fire--what is the matter, Manuela? you look
+the spirit of gloom. What has happened?"
+
+Manuela was crouching on the bare earthen floor, her shoulders shrugged
+up to her ears, her dark eyes glancing around the tiny room with every
+expression of marked disapproval. It was certainly not a luxurious
+apartment. The low walls were of rough logs, the roof was a ragged piece
+of very dingy canvas, held in place by stones here and there. In one
+corner was a pile of dried grass and leaves, with a blanket thrown over
+it,--evidently Don Carlos's bed. There was a camp-stool, a rude box set
+on end, that seemed to do duty both for dressing and writing table,
+since it was littered with papers, shaving materials, cigarette-cases,
+and a variety of other articles.
+
+Manuela spread out her arms with a despairing gesture. Was this, she
+asked, the place where the señorita was going to live? Where was she to
+hang the dresses? where was she to lay out the dressing things? As to
+making up the bed,--it would be better to die at once, in Manuela's
+opinion, than to live--Here Manuela stopped suddenly, for she had seen
+something. Rita, whose back was turned to the doorway of the hut, was
+rating her severely. Was this Manuela's patriotism, she wished to know?
+had she not said, over and over again, that she was prepared to shed the
+last drop of blood for their country, as she herself, Rita, was longing
+to do? and now, when it was simply a question of a little discomfort,
+of a few privations shared with their brave defenders, here was Manuela
+complaining and fretting, like a peevish child. Well! and what was the
+matter now?
+
+Manuela had risen from her despairing position, and was now bustling
+about the hut, brushing, smoothing, tidying up, with an air of smiling
+alacrity. But indeed, yes! she said; the señorita put her to shame. If
+the señorita could endure these trials, it was not for her poor Manuela
+to complain. No, indeed, sooner would she die. And after all, the hut
+was small, but that made things more handy, perhaps. The beautiful table
+that this would become, if she might remove the Señor Don Carlos's
+cigar-ashes? There! a scarf thrown over it--ah! What fortune, that she
+had brought the crimson satin scarf! Behold, an exhibition of beauty! As
+for the bed, she had heard from--from those who were soldiers
+themselves, that no couch was so soft, so wooing to sleep, as one of
+forest boughs. It stood to reason; there was poetry in the thought, as
+the señorita justly remarked. Now, with a few nails or pegs to hang
+things on, their little apartment would be complete. Let the señorita of
+her goodness forget the foolishness of her poor Manuela; she should hear
+no more of it; that was a promise.
+
+Rita looked in amazement at her follower; the girl's eyes were
+sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and she could not keep back the smiles
+that came dimpling and rippling over her pretty face.
+
+"But what has happened to you, Manuela?" cried Rita. "I insist upon
+knowing. What have you seen?"
+
+What had Manuela seen, to produce such a sudden and amazing change?
+Nothing, surely; or next to nothing. A ragged soldier had strolled past
+the door of the hut; a black-browed fellow, with a red handkerchief tied
+over his head, and a black cigar nearly a foot long; but what should
+that matter to Manuela?
+
+Rita looked at her curiously, but could get no explanation, save that
+Manuela had come to her senses, owing to the noble and glorious example
+set her by her beloved señorita.
+
+"Well!" said Rita, turning away half-petulantly. "Of course I know you
+are as changeable as a weathercock, Manuela. But as you were saying, if
+we had a few nails, we should do well enough here. I will go ask the
+Señor Don Carlos--"
+
+"Pardon, dearest señorita!" cried Manuela, hastily. "But what a pity
+that would be, to disturb the señor during his arduous labours. Without
+doubt the illustrious Señor Don Generalissimo (Manuela loved a title,
+and always made the most of one) requires him every instant, in the
+affairs of the nation. I--I can find some one who will get nails for us,
+and drive them also."
+
+"You can find some one?" repeated Rita. "And whom, then, can you find,
+pray?"
+
+"Only Pepe!" said Manuela, in a small voice.
+
+Was the name a conjuring-spell? It had hardly been spoken when Pepe
+himself stood in the doorway, ducking respectfully at the señorita, but
+looking out of the corners of his black eyes at Manuela. Rita smiled in
+spite of herself. Was this ragamuffin, barefoot, tattered, his hair in
+elf-locks,--was this the once elegant Pepe, the admired of himself and
+all the waiting-maids of Havana? He had once been Carlos's servant, when
+the young Cuban had time and taste for such idle luxuries; now he was
+his fellow soldier and faithful follower.
+
+"Well, Pepe," said Rita; "you also are here to welcome us, it appears.
+That is well. If you could find us a few nails, my good Pepe? the Señor
+Don Carlos is occupied with the General at present, and you can help
+us, if you will."
+
+Where had Rita learned this new and gracious courtesy? A few months ago,
+she would have said, "Pepe! drive nails!" and thought no more about it.
+Indeed, she could have given no explanation, save that "things were
+different." Perhaps our Rita is growing up, inside as well as outside?
+Certainly the pretty airs and graces have given way to a womanly and
+thoughtful look not at all unbecoming to any face, however beautiful.
+
+The thoughtful look deepened into anxiety, as a sudden recollection
+flashed into her mind. "Oh!" she cried. "And here I sit in peace, and
+have done nothing about those poor creatures in the hut! I must go to
+the General! But stay! Pepe, do you know--is there a man in the camp
+called Pedro Valdez?"
+
+But, yes! Pepe said. Assuredly there was such a man. Did the señorita
+require him?
+
+"Oh, please bring him!" said Rita. "Tell him that I have something of
+importance to tell him. Quick, my good Pepe!"
+
+Pepe vanished, and soon returned, dragging by the collar a lean
+scarecrow even more dilapidated than himself. Apparently the poor fellow
+had been asleep, and had been roughly clutched and hauled across the
+camp, for his hair was full of leaves and grass, and he was rubbing his
+eyes and swearing softly under his breath, vowing vengeance on his
+captor.
+
+"Silence, animal!" said Pepe, admonishing him by a kick of the presence
+of ladies; "Behold the illustrious señorita, who does you the honour to
+look at you. Attention, Swine of the Antilles!"
+
+Thus adjured, poor Pedro straightened himself, made the best bow he
+could, and stood sheepishly before Rita, trying furtively to brush a few
+of the sticks and straws off his ragged clothing.
+
+"You are Pedro Valdez?" asked Rita.
+
+At the service of the illustrious señorita. Yes, he was Pedro Valdez; in
+no condition to appear in such company, but nevertheless her slave and
+her beast of burden.
+
+"Oh, listen!" cried Rita, her eyes softening with compassion and
+anxiety. "You have a wife, Pedro Valdez,--a wife and a dear little
+child, is it not so? and your mother--she is old and weak. When have you
+seen them all, Valdez? Where did you leave them?"
+
+The man looked bewildered. "Leave them, señorita? I left them at home,
+in our village. They were well, all was well, when I came away. Has
+anything befallen them?"
+
+"They are safe! All is well with them now, or will be well, when you go
+to them. They are near here, Valdez. The Spaniards broke up the village,
+do you see? Dolores and your mother fled with the little one. The
+village was burned, and many souls perished; but Dolores was so strong,
+so brave, that she got the old mother away alive and safe, and the child
+as well. They have suffered terribly, my poor man; you must look to find
+them pale and thin, but they are alive, and all will be well when once
+they have found you."
+
+Seeing Valdez overcome for the moment, Rita hastened to the General's
+tent and told her story, begging that the husband and father might be
+allowed to go at once to the relief of his suffering family.
+
+"And he shall bring them here, shall he not?" she cried, eagerly. "They
+cannot be separated again, can they, dear Señor General? you will make
+room for Dolores--that is the wife; oh, such a brave woman! and the old
+mother, and the dear little child!"
+
+The General looked puzzled; a look half quizzical, half sad, stole over
+his fine face; while he hesitated, Carlos broke out hastily: "Rita! you
+are too unreasonable! Do you think we are in a city here? do you think
+the General has everything at his command, to maintain an establishment
+of women and children? It is not to be thought of. We have no room, no
+supplies, no conveniences of any kind; they must go elsewhere."
+
+"They can have my house!" cried Rita, "Your house, brother Carlos, which
+you have given to me. I will sleep in a hammock, under a tree. What
+matter? I will live on bread and water; I will--"
+
+"My dear young lady!" said the General, interrupting her eager speech
+with a lifted hand. "My dear child, if an old man may call you so, if
+only we had bread for all, there would be no further question. We would
+gladly take these poor people, and hundreds of other suffering ones who
+fill the hills and valleys of our unhappy country. But--Carlos is right,
+alas! that I must say it. Here in the mountain camp, it is impossible
+for us to harbour refugees, unless for a night or so, while other
+provision is making. Let Valdez bring his family here for the night--we
+can make shift to feed and shelter them so long. After that--"
+
+He shook his head sadly. Rita clasped her hands in distress. To be
+brought face to face with the impossible was a new experience to the
+spoiled child. There was a moment's silence. Then:
+
+"Señor General," she cried, "I know! I see! all may yet be managed. They
+shall go to our house."
+
+"To--"
+
+"To our house, Carlos's and mine, in Havana. There are servants, troops
+of them; there is food, drink, everything, in abundance, in wicked,
+shameful abundance. Julio shall take care of them; Julio shall treat
+them as his mother and his sister. I will write commands to him; this
+instant I will write."
+
+Snatching a sheet of paper from the table, she wrote furiously for a
+moment, then handed the paper to the General with a look of
+satisfaction. The General--oh, how slow he was!--adjusted his glasses,
+and read the paper carefully; looked at Rita; looked at Carlos, and read
+the paper again. Rita clenched her little hands, but was calm as marble,
+as she assured herself. "Have I the señorita's permission to read this
+aloud?" asked the old man at last. "It may be that Don Carlos's
+advice--a thousand thanks, señorita." He read:
+
+        "JULIO:--The bearer of this is the wife of
+        Pedro Valdez. You are to take her and her
+        family in, and give them the best the house
+        contains; the best, do you hear? put them in
+        the marble guest-chamber, and place the house
+        at their disposal. Send for Doctor Blanco to
+        attend them; let Teresa wait upon them, and let
+        her furnish them with clothes from my wardrobe.
+        If you do not do all this, Julio, I will have
+        you killed; so fail not as you value your life.
+
+                         "MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+        "P.S. The Señor Don Carlos is here with me, and
+        echoes what I say. We are with the brave
+        General Sevillo, and if you dare to disobey,
+        terrible revenge will be taken."
+
+"The ardent patriotism of the señorita," said the General, cautiously,
+"is beautiful and inspiring; nevertheless, is it not possible that a
+more conciliatory tone might--I would not presume to dictate, but--"
+
+"Oh, Rita!" cried Carlos. "Child, when will you learn that we are no
+longer acting plays at home? This is absurd!"
+
+With an impatient movement that might have been Rita's own, he snatched
+the paper and tore it in two. "The General cannot be troubled with such
+folly!" he said, shortly. "Go to your room, my sister, and repose
+yourself after your fatigues."
+
+"By no means!" cried the kindly General, seeing Rita's eyes fill with
+tears of anger and mortification. "The señorita has promised to make my
+tea for me this evening. Give orders, I pray you, Don Carlos, that
+Valdez bring his family to us for the night; the rest can well wait for
+to-morrow's light. The señorita is exhausted, I fear, with her manifold
+fatigues, and she must have no more anxieties to-day. Behold the tea at
+this moment! Señorita Rita, this will be the pleasantest meal I have had
+since I left my home, two years ago."
+
+No anger could stand against the General's smile. In a moment Rita was
+smiling herself, though the tears still stood in her dark eyes, and one
+great drop even rolled down her cheek, to the General's great distress.
+Carlos, seeing with contrition his sister's effort at self-control, bent
+to kiss her cheek and murmur a few affectionate words. Soon they were
+all seated around the little table, Rita and the General on
+camp-stools, Carlos on a box. The tea was smoking hot; what did it
+matter that the nose of the teapot was broken? Rita had never tasted
+anything so delicious as that cup of hot tea, without milk, and with a
+morsel of sugar-cane for sweetening. The camp fare, biscuits soaked in
+water and fried in bacon fat, was better, she declared, than any food
+she had ever tasted in her life. To her delight, a small box of
+chocolate still remained in her long-suffering bag; this she presented
+to the General with her prettiest courtesy, and he vowed he was not
+worthy to taste such delicacies from such a hand. So, with interchange
+of compliments, and with a real friendliness that was far better, the
+little feast went on gaily; and when, late in the evening, Rita withdrew
+to her tent, she told Manuela that she had never enjoyed anything so
+much in her life; never!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+TO MARGARET.
+
+
+                               CAMP OF THE SONS OF CUBA,
+                                 May the --, Midnight.
+
+MY MARGUERITE:--What will you say when your eyes, those calm gray eyes,
+rest upon the above heading? Will they open wider, I ask myself? Will
+the breath come quicker between those cool rose-leaves of your lips? "It
+is true!" you will murmur to yourself. "She has done as she said, as she
+swore she would. My Rita, my wild pomegranate flower, has kept her vow;
+she is in the mountains with Carlos; she has taken her place beside the
+defenders of her country."
+
+Ah! you thought it was play, Marguerite, confess it! You thought the
+wild Cuban girl was uttering empty breath of nothingness; you have had
+no real anxiety, you never dreamed that I should really find
+myself--where now I am. Where is it? Listen, Marguerite! My house--once
+Carlos's house, now mine by his brotherly gift--stands in a little glen
+of the hills. An open space, once dry grass, now bare earth, baked by
+the sun, trodden by many feet; a cluster of palms, a mountain spring
+gushing from a rock hard by; on every side hills, the brown, rugged
+hills of Cuba, fairer to me than cloudy Alps of Italy, or those other
+great mountains of which never can I remember the barbarous names. To
+teach me geography, Marguerite, you never could succeed, you will
+remember; more than our poor Peggy history. Poor little Peggy! I could
+wish she were here with me; it would be the greatest pleasure of her
+life. For you, Marguerite, the scene is too wild, too stern; but Peggy
+has a martial spirit under her somewhat clumsy exterior. But I wander,
+and Peggy is without doubt sleeping at this moment under the stern eye
+of her schoolmistress. I began to tell you about my house, Marguerite.
+So small a house you saw never. Standing, I reach up my hand and touch
+the roof, of brown canvas, less fresh than once it was. Sitting, I
+stretch out my arms--here is one wall; there--almost, but a few feet
+between--is the other. In a corner my bed--ah, Marguerite! on your white
+couch there, with snowy draperies falling softly about you, consider my
+bed! a pile of dried grasses and leaves, shaken and tossed anew every
+morning, covered with a camp blanket. I tell you, the gods might sleep
+on it, and ask no better. In another corner sleeps Manuela, my faithful
+maid, my humble friend, the companion of my wanderings. Some day you
+shall see Manuela; she is an excellent creature. Cultivated, no;
+intellinctual--what is that for a word, Marguerite? Ah! when will you
+learn Spanish, that I may pour my soul with freedom?--no; but a heart
+of gold, a spirit of fire and crystal. She keeps my hut neat, she
+arranges my toilet,--singular toilets, my dear, yet not wholly
+unbecoming, I almost fancy,--she helps me in a thousand ways. She has a
+little love-affair, that is a keen interest to me; Pepe, formerly the
+servant of Carlos, adores her, and she casts tender eyes upon the young
+soldier. For me, as you know, Marguerite, these things are for ever
+past, buried in the grave of my hero, in the stately tomb that hides the
+ashes of the Santillos. I take a sorrowful pleasure in watching the
+budding happiness of these young creatures. More of this another time.
+
+I sit, Marguerite, in the doorway of my little house. It is the middle
+hour of the night, when tomb-yards gape, as your Shakespeare says. Am I
+sleepy? No! The camp slumbers, but I--I am awake, and I watch. I had a
+very long siesta, too. The moon is full, and the little glade is bathed
+in silver light. Here in Cuba, Marguerite, the moon is other than with
+you in the north. You call her pale moon, gentle moon, I know not what.
+Here she shines fiercely, with passion, with palpitations of fiery
+silver. The palms, the aloes, the tangled woods about the camp, are
+black as night; all else is a flood of airy silver. I float, I swim in
+this flood, entranced, enraptured. I ask myself, have I lived till now?
+is not this the first real thrill of life I have ever experienced? I
+alone wake, as I said; the others slumber profoundly. The General in his
+tent; ah, that you could know him, Marguerite! that you and my uncle
+could embrace this noble, this godlike figure! He is no longer young,
+the snows of seventy winters have blanched his clustering locks; it is
+the only sign of age. For the rest, erect, vigorous, a knight, a
+paladin, a--in effect, a son of Cuba. The younger officers regard him as
+a divinity; they live or die at his command. They are three, these
+officers; Carlos is one; the others, Don Alonzo Ximenes, Don Uberto
+Cortez. Don Alonzo is not interesting; he is fat, and rather stupid, but
+most good-natured. Don Uberto is Carlos's friend, a noble young captain,
+much admired formerly in Havana. I have danced with him, my cousin, in
+halls of rose-wreathed marble; we meet here in the wilderness, I with my
+shattered affections, he with his country's name written on his soul. It
+is affecting; it is heart-stirring, Marguerite; yet think nothing of it;
+romance is dead for Margarita Montfort. Carlos is my kind brother, as
+ever. He was vexed at first at my coming here. Heavens! what was I to
+do? My stepmother was dragging me to a convent; my days would have been
+spent there, and in a short time my life would have gone out like a
+flame. "Out, short candle!" You see I remember your Shakespeare
+readings, my dearest. Can I forget anything that recalls you to me, half
+of my heart? If there had been time, indeed, I might have written to my
+uncle; I might even have come to you; but the hour descended like a
+thunderbolt; I fled, Manuela with me. The manner of my flight? you will
+ask. Marguerite, it was managed--I do not boast, I am the soul of
+humility, you know it!--the manner of it was perfect. Listen, and you
+shall hear all. You remember that in my last letter--written, alas! in
+my beloved garden, which I may never see more--I spoke with a certain
+restraint, even an approach to mystery. It was thus. At first, when that
+woman proposed to take me to the convent, I was a creature distracted.
+The fire of madness burned in my veins, and I could think of nothing
+save death or revenge. But with time came reflection; came wisdom,
+Marguerite, and inflexible resolve. To those she loves, Margarita
+Montfort is wax, silk, down, anything the most soft and yielding that
+can be figured. To her enemies, steel and adamant are her composition.
+I had two friends in that house of Spaniards; one was Pasquale, good,
+faithful Pasquale, an under gardener and helper; the other, Manuela, my
+maid. I have described her to you--enough! I realised that action must
+be of swiftness, the lightning flash, the volcano fire that I predicted.
+Do not say that I did not warn you, Marguerite; knowing me, you must
+have expected from my last letter what must come. I called Manuela to my
+room, I made pretence that she should arrange my hair. My hair has grown
+three inches, Marguerite, since I left you; it now veritably touches the
+floor as I sit. Our holy religion tells us that it is a woman's crown,
+yet how heavy a one at times! I closed the door, I locked it; I caused
+to draw down the heavy Persians. Then, tiger-like, I sprang upon my
+attendant, and laid my hand on her mouth. "Hush!" I tell her. "Not a
+word, not a sound! dare but breathe, and you may be my death. My life,
+I tell you, hangs by a thread. Hush! be silent, and tell me all. Tell me
+who assists Geronimo in the stables since Pablo is ill." Manuela
+struggles, she releases herself to reply--
+
+"Pasquale!"
+
+It is the answer from heaven. Pasquale, I have said, is my one friend
+beside Manuela. I say to her, "Do thus, and thus! give these orders to
+Pasquale; tell him that it imports of your life and mine, saying nothing
+of his own; that if I am not obeyed, the evil eye will be the least of
+his punishments, and death without the sacraments the end for him."
+
+Manuela hears; she trembles; she flies to execute my commands. Then,
+Marguerite--then, what does the daughter of Cuba do? She goes to the
+wall, to the trophy I have described to you so often. She selects her
+weapons. Ah, if you could see them! First, a long slender dagger, the
+steel exquisitely inlaid with gold, in a sheath of green enamel; a
+dagger for a prince, Marguerite, for your Lancelot or Tristram!
+Another, short and keen, the blade plain but deadly, cased in wrought
+leather of Cordova. Last, my machete, my pearl of destructiveness. It
+was his, my Santayana's; he procured it from Toledo, from the master
+sword-maker of the universe. The blade is so fine, the eye refuses to
+tell where it melts into the air; a touch, and the hardest substance is
+divided exactly in two pieces. The handle, gold, set with an ancestral
+emerald, which for centuries has brought victory in the field to the arm
+of the hero who wore it; the sheath--I forget myself; this weapon has no
+sheath. When a Santillo de Santayana rides into battle, he has no
+thought to sheathe his sword. These, Marguerite, are my armament; these,
+and a tiny gold-mounted revolver, a gem, a toy, but a toy of deadly
+purpose. Enough! I lay them apart, ready for the night. I go to my
+stepmother, I smile, I make submission. I will do all she wishes; I am
+a child; her age impresses me with the truth that I should not set my
+will against hers. Concepcion is thirty on her next birthday; she tells
+the world that she is twenty, but I know! it grinds her bones when I
+remind her of her years, as they were revealed to me by a member of her
+family. So! She is pleased, we embrace, the volantes are commanded, all
+goes smoothly. I demand permission to take my parrot to the convent; it
+is, to my surprise, accorded; I know she thought those savage sisters
+would kill him the first time he uttered his noble and inspiring words.
+
+The night comes, the hour of the departure. To accompany us goes my good
+Don Miguel, the dear old man of whom I have told you, whom I revere as
+my grandfather. My heart yearns to tell him all, to cast myself on his
+venerable bosom and cry, "Come with me; take me yourself to my brother;
+share with us the perils and glories of the tented field!" But no! he
+is old, this dear friend; his hair is the snow, his step is feeble.
+Hardships such as Rita must now endure would end his feeble life. I
+speak no word; a marble smile is all I wear, though my heart is rent
+with anguish. The carriages are at the door. Concepcion would have me
+ride in the first, that she may have her eyes on me at each instant. She
+suspects nothing, no; it is merely the base and suspicious nature which
+reveals itself at every occasion. I refuse, I prodigate expressions of
+my humility, of my determination to take the second place, leaving the
+first to her; briefly, I take the second volante, Manuela springing to
+my side. After some discontent, appeased by dear Don Miguel, who is
+veritably an angel, and wants but death to transport him among the
+saints, Concepcion mounts in the first volante. I have seen that
+Pasquale is on the box of mine; I possess my soul, I lean back and count
+the beats of my fevered pulse, as we ascend the steep road, winding
+among hills and forests. The convent is at the top of a long, long hill,
+very steep and rugged; the horses pant and strain; humanity demands that
+they slacken their pace, that the carriages are slowly, slowly, drawn up
+the rugged track. The night descends, I have told you, swiftly in our
+southern climate; already it is dark. On either side of the road are
+tall shrouded forms, which Manuela takes for sentinels, for Spanish
+soldiers drawn up to watch, perhaps to arrest us. I laugh; I see they
+are the aloes only, planted here in rows along the road. Presently, at a
+turn of the road, a light! a fire burning by the roadside, and soldiers
+running, real ones this time, to the horses' heads. "_Alerta! quien
+va?_" It is the Spanish challenge, Marguerite; it is a piquette of the
+Gringos, of the hated Spaniards. They peer into the carriages, faces of
+savages, of brutes, devils; I feel their glances like poisoned arrows.
+They demand, Don Miguel makes answer, shows his papers. Of the instant
+these slaves are cringing, are bowing to the earth. "Pass, most
+honourable and illustrious Señor Don Miguel Pietoso, with the heavenly
+ladies under your charge!" It is over. The volantes roll on. I clasp
+Manuela in my arms and whisper, "We are free!" We mingle our tears of
+rapture, but for a moment only. We approach the steepest pitch of the
+long hill (it is veritably a mountain), a place beyond conception rugged
+and difficult. The horses strain and tug; they are at point of
+exhaustion. I look at Pasquale; Pasquale has served me since my cradle.
+Does his head move, a very little, the least imaginable motion? It is
+too dark to see; the moon is not yet risen. But I feel the horses
+checked, I feel the carriage pause, an instant, a breath only. I step
+noiselessly to the ground; the volante is low, permitting this without
+danger. Manuela follows. There is not a sound, not a creak, not the
+rustle of a fold. Again it is over. The volante rolls on. Manuela and I
+are alone, are free in the mountains of Cuba Libre.
+
+I have but one thought: my country, my brother! Behold me here, in the
+society of one, prepared to shed my blood for the other. You would never
+guess who else is with us; Chiquito, our poor old friend the parrot, the
+sacred legacy of that white saint, our departed aunt. Could I leave him
+behind, to unfriendly, perhaps murderous, hands? Old Julio is a Spaniard
+at heart; Chiquito is a Cuban bird; his very soul--do you doubt that a
+bird has a soul, when I tell you that I have seen it in his eyes,
+Marguerite?--his very soul speaks for his country. If you could hear him
+cry, "_Viva Cuba Libre!_" The camp is on fire when they hear him. Ah,
+they are such brave fellows, our soldiers! poor, in rags, half-fed--it
+matters not! each one is a hero, and all are my brothers. Marguerite,
+sleep hangs at last upon me. Good-night, beloved; good-night, cool white
+soul of ivory and silver. I love thee always devotedly. Have no fear for
+me. It is true that the Spaniards are all about us in these mountains,
+that at any moment we may be attacked. What of that? If the daughter of
+Cuba dies by her brother's side, in her country's cause, my Marguerite
+will know that it is well with her. You will shed a tear over the lonely
+grave among the Cuban hills; but you will plant a wreath for Rita, a
+wreath of mingled laurel and immortelle, and it will bloom eternally.
+
+Ever, and with a thousand greetings to my honoured and admired uncle,
+your
+
+                                    MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+Rita drew a long breath as she folded her letter. She was in a fine glow
+of mingled affection and patriotic fervour; it had been a great relief
+to pour it all out in Margaret's sympathetic ear, though that ear were a
+thousand miles away. Now she really must go to bed. It was one o'clock,
+her watch told her. It seemed wicked, profane, to sleep under such
+moonlight as this; but still, the body must be preserved.
+
+"But first," she said to herself, "I must have a drop of water; writing
+so long has made me thirsty."
+
+She took up the earthen water-jar, but found it empty. Pepe had for once
+been faithless; indeed, neither he nor Manuela had escaped the witchery
+of the full moon, and she had had little good of them that whole
+evening. She glanced at the corner where Manuela lay; the light, regular
+breathing told that the girl was sound asleep. It would be a pity to
+wake her from her first sweet sleep, poor Manuela. A year, perhaps a
+month ago, Rita would not have hesitated an instant; but now she
+murmured, "Sleep, little one! I myself will fetch the water."
+
+She stepped out into the moonlight, with the jar in her hand. All was
+still as sleep itself. No sound or motion from huts or tent. Under the
+palms lay a number of brown bundles, motionless. Dry leaves, piled
+together for burning? no! soldiers of Cuba, wrapped in such covering as
+they could find, taking their rest. Alone, beside a little heap of twigs
+that still smouldered, the sentry sat; his back was turned to her.
+Should she speak to him, and ask him to go to the spring for her? No;
+how much more interesting to go herself! Everything looked so different
+in this magic light; it was a whole new world, the moon's fairyland; who
+knew what wonderful sights might meet her eyes? Besides, her old nurse
+used to say that water drawn from a pure spring under the full moon
+produced a matchless purity of the complexion. Her complexion was well
+enough, perhaps, but still--and anyhow, it would be an adventure,
+however small a one.
+
+The girl's feet, in their soft leather slippers, made no sound on the
+bare earth. The sentry did not turn his head. Silent as a cloud, she
+stole across the little glade, and passed under the trees at the farther
+end. Here the ground broke off suddenly in a rocky pitch, down which one
+scrambled to another valley or glen lying some hundred feet lower; the
+cliff (for it was steep enough to merit that name) was mostly bare rock,
+but here and there a little earth had caught and lodged, and a few
+seeds had dropped, and a tuft of grass or a little tree had sprung up,
+defying the gulf below. A few feet only from the upper level, just below
+a group of palms that nodded over the brink, the stream gushed out from
+the face of the rock, clear and cold. The soldiers had hollowed a little
+trough to receive the trickling stream, and one had only to hold one's
+pitcher under this spout for a few minutes, to have it filled with
+delicious water. Rita had often come hither in the daytime, during the
+week that had now passed since her arrival at the mountain camp. It was
+a wild and picturesque scene at any time, but now the effect of the
+intense white light, falling on splintered rock, hanging tree, and
+glancing stream was magical indeed. Rita lay down on her face at the
+edge of the precipice, as she had seen the soldiers do, and lowered her
+jar carefully. As the water gurgled placidly into the jar, her eyes
+roved here and there, taking in every detail of the marvellous scene
+before her. Never, she thought, had she seen anything so beautiful, so
+unearthly in its loveliness. Peace! silver peace, and silence, the
+silence of--hark! what was that?
+
+A crack, as of a twig breaking; a rustling, far below in the gorge; a
+shuffling sound, as of soft shod feet pressing the soft earth. Rita
+crouched flat to the ground, and, leaning over as far as she dared,
+peered over the precipice. The bottom of the gorge was filled with a
+mass of tall grasses and feathery blossoming shrubs, with here and there
+a tree rising tall and straight. The leaves were black as jet in the
+strong light. Gazing intently, she saw the branches tremble, wave,
+separate; and against the dark leaves shone a gleam of metal, that
+moved, and came nearer. Another and yet another; and now she could see
+the dark faces, and the moon shone on the barrels of the carbines, and
+made them glitter like silver.
+
+Swiftly and noiselessly the girl drew back from the brink, crouching in
+the grass till she reached the shadow of the grove. Then she rose to her
+feet, still holding her jar of water carefully,--for there was no need
+of wasting that,--and ran for her life.
+
+A whispered word to the sentry, who sprang quickly enough from his
+reverie beside the fire; then to the General's tent, then to Carlos,
+with the same whispered message. "The Gringos are here! Wake, for the
+love of Heaven!"
+
+In another moment the little glade was alive with dusky figures,
+springing from their beds of moss and leaves, snatching their arms,
+fumbling for cartridges. The General was already among them. Carlos and
+the other officers came running, buckling their sword-belts, rubbing
+their eyes.
+
+"Where are they?" all were asking in excited whispers. "Who saw them? Is
+it another nightmare of Pepe's?"
+
+"No! no!" murmured Rita. "I saw them, I tell you! I saw their faces in
+the moonlight. I went to get some water. They are climbing up the cliff.
+I did not stop to count, but there must be many of them, from the sound
+of their feet. Oh, make haste, make haste!"
+
+The General gave his orders in a low, emphatic tone. Twenty men, with
+Carlos at their head, glided like shadows across the glade, and
+disappeared among the trees. Rita's breath came quick, and she prepared
+to follow; but the old General laid a kind hand on her arm. "No, my
+child!" he said. "You have done your country a great service this night.
+Do not imperil your life needlessly. Go rather to your room, and pray
+for your brother and for us all."
+
+But prayer was far from Rita's thoughts at that moment. "Dear General,"
+she implored, with clasped hands, the tears starting to her eyes, "Let
+me go! let me go! I implore you! I will pray afterward, I truly will. I
+will pray while I am fighting, if you will only let me go. See! I have
+come all this way to fight for my country; and must I stay away from the
+first battle? Look, dear Señor General! Look at my machete! Isn't it
+beautiful? it is the sword of a hero; I must use it for him. Let me go!"
+The beautiful face, upturned in the moonlight, the dark eyes shining
+through their tears, might have softened a harder heart than that of
+General Sevillo. He opened his lips to reply, his fatherly hand still on
+her arm, when suddenly a sharp report was heard. A single shot, then a
+volley, the shots rattling out, struck back and forth from cliff to
+cliff, multiplying in hideous echoes. Then broke out cries and groans;
+the crash of heavy bodies falling back among the trees below, and shouts
+of "_Viva Cuba_;" and still the shots rang out, and still the echoes
+cracked and snapped. Rita turned pale as death, and clasped her hands
+on her bosom. "_Ah!_ _Dios!_" she cried. "I had forgotten; there will be
+blood!" and rushing into her hut, she flung herself face downward on her
+leafy bed.
+
+The perplexed General looked after her for a moment, pulling his
+grizzled moustache. "_Caramba!_" he muttered. "To understand these
+feminines? Decidedly, this charming child must be sent into safety
+to-morrow." And shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he strode
+in the direction of the firing.
+
+Ten minutes' sharp fighting, and the skirmish was over. The Spanish
+"guerilla" was scattered, many of the guerilleros lying dead or wounded
+at the foot of the precipice, the others scrambling and tumbling down as
+best they might. Carlos and his men had so greatly the advantage in
+position, if not in numbers, that not a single Cuban was killed, though
+two or three were more or less seriously wounded. Among these was the
+unfortunate Pedro Valdez, who had only that evening returned to camp,
+having left his child and his old mother in a place of safety. His wife
+had been allowed to remain for a short time in camp, at the request of
+the surgeon, as she had had some experience in nursing. Now he was shot
+in the arm, and his comrades lifted him gently, and carried him back.
+His wife was waiting for him. She seemed to have expected something of
+the kind, for she made no outcry; she followed quietly to the clump of
+trees distant a little way from the rest of the camp, where good Doctor
+Ferrando had the solitary rancho, the case of surgical instruments and
+the few rolls of bandages that constituted his field hospital. A rough
+table had been knocked together for operations; otherwise the sick and
+wounded fared much as the rest did, sleeping on beds of leaves and dry
+grass, and fighting the mosquitoes as best they might. Here the bearers
+laid Pedro down, and Dolores took her place quietly at his side,
+fanning away the insects that hovered in clouds about the wounded man,
+holding the poor arm while the doctor dressed it, and behaving as if her
+life had been spent in a hospital.
+
+Doctor Ferrando spoke a few words of approval, but the woman heeded them
+little; it was a matter of course that where there was suffering, she
+should be at work. So, when Pedro presently dropped off to sleep, she
+moved softly about among the wounded men, smoothing a blanket here,
+changing a ligature there, doing all with light, swift fingers whose
+touch healed instead of hurting.
+
+She was sitting beside a lad, the last to be brought in from the scene
+of the skirmish, when the screen of bushes by the rancho was parted, and
+Rita appeared. Slowly and timidly she drew near; her face was like
+marble; her eyes looked unnaturally large and dark. Dolores made a
+motion to rise, but a gesture bade her keep her place.
+
+"Hush!" said the young girl. "Sit still, Dolores! I have come--to--to
+learn!"
+
+"To learn, señorita?" repeated the woman, humbly. The señorita was in
+her grateful eyes a heaven-descended being, whose every look and word
+must be law; this new bearing amazed and puzzled her.
+
+"What can this poor soul teach the noble and high-born lady?" she asked,
+sadly. "I know nothing, not even to read; I am a poor woman merely. The
+señor doctor is this moment gone to take his distinguished siesta; do I
+call him for the señorita?"
+
+Rita shook her head, and crept nearer, gazing with wide eyes of fear at
+the prostrate form beside which Dolores was sitting.
+
+[Illustration: "'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. 'SIT STILL.'"]
+
+"See, Dolores!" she said; and her tone was as humble as the woman's own.
+"I must learn--to take care of him--of them!" She nodded at the
+sufferer. "All my life, you see, I could never bear the sight of blood.
+To cut my finger, I fainted at the instant. Always they said, 'Poor
+child! it is her delicacy, her sensibility;' they praised me; I thought
+it a fine thing, to faint, to turn pale at the word even. Now--oh,
+Dolores, do you see? I desire to help my country, my brother, all the
+heroes who are risking their life, are shedding their--their blood--for
+Cuba. I think I can fight; I forget; I see only the bright shining
+blades, the victorious banners; I forget that these heroes must bleed,
+that this horrible blood must flow in streams, in torrents, that oceans
+of it must overwhelm us, the defenders of my country. _Ay de mi!_ I
+begged the General even now to let me fight, to let me stand beside my
+Carlos, and wield my beautiful machete. Suddenly, Dolores--I heard the
+shots; I heard--terrible sounds! screams--oh, Dios!--screams of men,
+perhaps of my own brother, in anguish. All at once it came over me--I
+cannot tell you--I saw it all, the blood, the wounds, the horror to
+death. I awoke from my dreams; I was a child, do you see, Dolores? I
+was a child, playing at war, and thinking--thinking the thoughts of a
+silly, silly child. Now I am awake; now I know--what--what war means.
+So--I am foolish, but I can learn; I think I can learn. You are a brave
+woman; I have been watching you through the leaves for half an hour. I
+saw you--I saw you change those cloths; those terrible bloody cloths on
+that poor man's head. At first my eyes turned round, I saw black only;
+but I opened them again, I fixed them on what you held, I watched. Now I
+can bear quite well to look at it. Help me, Dolores! teach me--to help
+as you help; teach me to care for these brothers, as you do."
+
+Dolores looked earnestly in the beautiful young face. In spite of the
+deadly pallor, she saw that the girl was fully herself, was calm and
+determined. With a simple, noble gesture she lifted Rita's slender hand
+to her lips, saying merely: "This hand shall bring blessing to many!
+come, my señorita, and see! it is so easy, when once one knows the way
+of it."
+
+Very gently the poor peasant's wife showed the rich man's daughter the A
+B C of woman's work among the sick and suffering. At first Rita could do
+little more than control her own nerves, and fight down the faintness
+that came creeping over her at sight of the bandaged faces, ghastly
+under the brown, of the torn flesh and nerveless limbs. Gradually,
+however, she began to gain strength. The rough brown hand moved so
+easily, so lightly; it laid hold of those terrible bandages as if they
+were mere ordinary bits of linen. Surely now, she, Rita, could do that
+too. As Dolores took a cloth from her husband's head, the girl's hand
+was outstretched, took it quietly, and handed a fresh one to the nurse.
+The cloth she took was covered with red stains. For a moment Rita's head
+swam, and the world seemed to turn dark before her eyes; but she held
+the thing firmly, till her sight cleared again; then dropped it in the
+tub of water that stood ready, and taking up the fan of green palm-leaf,
+swept it steadily to and fro, driving the clouds of flies and mosquitoes
+away from the sufferer.
+
+Coming back from his siesta half an hour later, good Doctor Ferrando
+paused a moment at the entrance of the hospital grove. There were two
+nurses now; the good man gazed in astonishment at the slender figure
+kneeling beside one of the rough cots, fanning the wounded man, and
+singing in a low, sweet voice, a song of Cuba. Several of the men were
+awake, and gazing at her with delight. Dolores, with a look of quiet
+happiness on her face, sat beside the bed where her husband was sleeping
+peacefully. "Come!" said the doctor, "war, after all, has its beauty as
+well as its terror. Observe this heavenly sight, you benevolent saints!"
+he waved his cigar upward, inviting the attention of all attendant
+spirits. "Consider this lovely child, awakened to the holiness of
+womanhood! and the General will destroy all this to-morrow, from respect
+for worldly conventions! He is without doubt right; yet, what a pity!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CAMP SCENE.
+
+
+"If I must, dear Señor General--I will be good, I will, indeed; but my
+heart will break to leave Carlos, and the camp, and you, Señor General."
+
+"My dear child,--my dear young lady, what pleasure for me to keep you
+here! the first sunshine of the war, it came with you, Señorita
+Margarita. Nevertheless, duty is duty; I should be wanting in mine, most
+wofully and wickedly wanting, if I allowed you to remain here, in hourly
+danger, when a few hours could place you in comparative safety. Perfect
+safety, I do not promise. Where shall we find it, even for our nearest
+and dearest, in this poor distracted country? But with Don Annunzio and
+his family you will be safe at least for a time; whereas here--" The
+General looked around, and shrugged his shoulders, spreading his hands
+out with a dramatic gesture. "The Gringos have learned the way to our
+mountain camp; they will not forget it. Another attack may come any
+night; our camp is an outpost, placed of purpose to guard this position,
+which must of necessity be one of danger. To have women with us--it is
+not only exposing them to the terrible possibilities of war, but--"
+
+He paused. "I see!" cried Rita. "I see! you are too kind to say it, but
+we are a burden upon you. We make harder the work; we are an
+encumbrance. Dear Señor General, I go! I fly! Give me half, a quarter of
+an hour, and I am gone. Never, never, will I be in the way of my
+country's defenders; never! Too long we have stayed already; Manuela
+shall make on the instant our packets, and in a little hour you shall
+forget that we were here at all."
+
+The good General cried out, "No! no! my dear child, my dear señorita;
+cease these words, I implore you. You cut me to the heart. Consider the
+help that you have brought to us; consider the nursing, the tender care
+that you and the wife of Valdez have given to our sufferers, in the
+rancho there. Never will this be forgotten, rest assured of that.
+But--it is true that you must go; yet not too soon. This evening, when
+the coolness falls, Don Carlos, with a chosen escort, will conduct you
+to the residence of Don Annunzio. There, I rejoice to think that you
+will find, not luxury, but at least some few of the comforts of ordinary
+life. Here you have suffered; your lofty spirit will not confess it, but
+you have--you must have suffered, delicate and fragile as you are, in
+the rough life of a Cuban camp. Enough! The day is before you, dearest
+señorita. I pray you, while it lasts, make use of me, of all that the
+camp contains, in whatever way you can imagine. I would make the day a
+pleasant one, if I might. Command me, dear señorita, in anything and
+everything. The camp is yours, with all it contains."
+
+He bowed with courtly grace, and Rita courtsied and then turned quickly
+away, to hide the tears that would come in spite of her. It was a keen
+disappointment. When Carlos told her that morning that she must leave
+the camp, she had refused pointblank. A stormy scene followed, in which
+the old Rita was only too much in evidence. She raged, she wept, she
+stamped her little foot. She was a Cuban, as much as he was; she was a
+nurse, a daughter of the army; no human power should drive her from the
+ground where she was prepared to shed her last drop of blood for the
+defenders of her country. Now--a few kind, grave words from a
+gray-haired man, and all was changed. She was not a necessity, she was a
+hindrance; she saw that this must be so; the pain was sharp, but she
+would not show it; she would never again lose her self-control, never.
+Carlos should see that she was no longer a child. He had called her a
+child, not half an hour ago, a naughty child, who was making trouble for
+everybody. Well--Rita stood still; the thought came over her
+suddenly,--it was true! she had been childish, had been naughty. Suppose
+Margaret or Peggy should behave so, stamping and storming; how would it
+seem? Oh, well, that was different. Their blood was cool, almost cold.
+It flowed sluggishly in their veins. She was a child of the South; it
+was not to be expected that she should be like Margaret. Yes! but--the
+thought would come, troubling all her mind; suppose Margaret were here,
+with her calm sense, her cheerful face, and tranquil voice; would not
+she be of more use, of more help, than a girl who could not help
+screaming when she was in a passion?
+
+These thoughts were new to Rita Montfort. Full of them, she walked
+slowly to her hut, with bent head, and eyes full of unshed tears.
+Meanwhile, the good General went back to his tent, where Carlos awaited
+him with some anxiety.
+
+"Well?" he asked, as the gray head bent under the tent-flaps.
+
+"Well," responded his commander. "It is very well, my son. The
+señorita--she is adorable, do you know it? Never have I seen a more
+lovely young person! The señorita is most reasonable. She comprehends;
+she understands the desolation that it is to me to send away so
+delightful a visitor; nevertheless--she accepts all, with her own
+exquisite grace."
+
+Carlos shrugged his shoulders; that same exquisite grace had flashed a
+dagger in his eyes not ten minutes before, vowing that it should be
+sheathed in the owner's heart before she left the camp; but it was not
+necessary to say this to the General. Carlos was an affectionate
+brother, and was honestly relieved and glad to find that Rita had come
+to her senses. He thanked General Sevillo warmly for his good offices,
+and, being off duty, went in search of his sister, determining that he
+would make her last day in camp a pleasant one, so far as lay in his
+power. He found Rita sitting sadly in the door of her hut, watching
+Manuela, who was packing up their belongings, unwillingly enough.
+Manuela had enjoyed her stay in camp greatly, and thought life would be
+very dull, in comparison, at Don Annunzio's cottage; but there was no
+escape, and the white silk blouse and the swansdown wrapper went into
+the bag with all the other fineries.
+
+"Come, Rita," said Carlos, taking his sister's hand affectionately;
+"come with me, and let me show you some things that you have not yet
+seen. You must not forget the camp. Who knows? Some day you may come
+back to pay us a visit."
+
+Rita shook her head, and the tears came to her eyes again; but she drove
+them back bravely, and smiled, and laid her hand in her brother's; and
+they passed out together among the palm-trees.
+
+Manuela looked after them, and laid her hand on her heart; it was a
+gesture that she had often seen her mistress use, and it seemed to her
+infinitely touching and beautiful. "_Ohimé_," sighed Manuela. "War is
+terrible, indeed! To think that we must go away, just when we are so
+comfortable. But where, then, is this idiot? Pepe! When I call you, will
+you come, animal? Pepe!"
+
+The thicket near the rancho rustled and shook, and Pepe appeared. This
+young man presented a different figure from the forlorn one that had
+greeted the two girls on their first arrival at the camp. His curly hair
+was now carefully brushed and oiled. The scarlet handkerchief was still
+tied about his head, but it was tied now with a grace that might have
+done credit to the most dandified matador in the Havana ring. His jacket
+was neatly mended; altogether, Pepe was once more a self-respecting,
+even a self-admiring youth. Also, he admired Manuela immensely, and lost
+no opportunity of telling that she was the light of his eyes and the
+flower of his soul. He was now beginning some remarks of this
+description, but Manuela interrupted him, laying her pretty brown hand
+unceremoniously on his lips.
+
+"For once, Pepe, endeavour to possess a small portion of sense," she
+said. "Listen to me! We must leave the camp."
+
+"How then, marrow of my bones! Leave the camp? You and I?"
+
+"I am speaking to a monkey, then, instead of a man? The use, I ask you,
+of addressing intelligent remarks to such a corporosity? My mistress and
+I, simpleton. This General of yours drives us from his quarters; he
+begrudges the morsel we eat, the rude hut that shelters us. Enough! we
+go; even now I make preparation. Pull this strap for me, Pepe; at least
+you have strength. Ah! If I were but a great stupid man, it would be
+well with me this day!"
+
+"But well for no one else, my idol," said Pepe, tugging away at the
+strap. "Desolation and despair for the rest of mankind, Rose of the
+Antilles. Accidental death to this bag! why have you filled it so full?
+There! it is strapped. Manuela, is it possible that I live without you?
+No! I shall fall an easy victim to the first fever that comes; already I
+feel it scorching my--"
+
+"Oh, a paralysis upon you! Can I exercise my thoughts, with the chatter
+of a parrot in my ears? Attend, then, Pepe,--you will miss me a little,
+will you? Just a very little?"
+
+Pepe opened his mouth for new and fiery protestations, but was bidden
+peremptorily to shut it again.
+
+"I desire now to hear myself speak," said Manuela. "I weary, Pepe, for
+the sound of my own poor little voice. Listen, then! These days I have
+been here, and you have never asked me what I brought with me for you;
+brought all that cruel way from the city. I knew I should find you
+somewhere, my good Pepe; or, if not you, some other friend, some other
+good son of Cuba. I thought of you, I remembered you, even in the rush
+of our departure. See! It is yours. May it bring you fortune!"
+
+She handed him a little packet, neatly folded in white paper, and tied
+with a crimson ribbon. Receiving it with dramatic eagerness, Pepe opened
+it and looked with delight at its contents.
+
+"A _detente_!" he cried. "Manuela! and the most beautiful that has been
+seen upon the earth. This is not for me! No! Impossible! The General
+alone is worthy to wear this object of an elegance so resplendent."
+
+Reassured on this point, he proceeded to pin the emblem on his jacket,
+and contemplated it with delighted pride. It was a simple thing enough;
+a square of white flannel the size of an ordinary needlebook, neatly
+scalloped around the edge with white silk. In the centre was embroidered
+a crimson heart, and under it the words, "_Detente! pienso en ti!_" ("Be
+of good cheer! I think of thee!")
+
+"And did you really think of me, Manuela?" cried the delighted Pepe.
+"Did you, bright and gay, in the splendid city, think of the lonely
+soldier?"
+
+"Yes, I did," said Manuela, "when I had nothing else to do. And now you
+may go away, Pepe, I am busy; I cannot attend to you any longer."
+
+"But," said Pepe, bewildered, "you called me, Manuela."
+
+"Yes; to strap my bag. It is done; I thank you. It is finished."
+
+"And--you have given me the _detente_, moon of my soul!"
+
+"Then you cannot complain that I never gave you anything. And now I give
+you one thing more,--leave to depart. _Adios,_ Don Pepe!" and she
+actually shut the door of the hut in the face of her astonished adorer,
+who departed muttering strange things concerning the changeableness of
+all women, and of Manuela in particular.
+
+Meanwhile, Rita and Carlos were wandering about the camp, and Rita was
+seeing, as her brother promised, some things that were new to her, even
+after a stay of nearly a week. She saw the kitchen, or what passed for a
+kitchen,--a pleasant spot under a palm-tree, where the cook was even
+then toasting long strips of meat over the _parilla_, a kind of
+gridiron, made by simply driving four stakes, and laying bits of wood
+across and across them, then lighting a fire beneath.
+
+"But why does it not burn up, your _parilla_?" asked Rita of the long,
+lean, coffee-coloured soldier, picturesque and ragged, who was turning
+the strips with a forked stick.
+
+"Pardon, gracious señorita, it does burn up; not the first time, nor
+perhaps the second, but without doubt the third."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then,--it is but to build another. An affair of a moment,
+señorita."
+
+"But does not the meat often fall into the fire when it breaks?"
+
+"Sufficiently often, most noble. What of that? It imparts a flavour of
+its own; one brushes off the ashes--soldiers do not dine at the Hotel
+Royal, one must observe. May I offer the señorita a bit of this
+excellent beef? This has not fallen down at all, or at most but once,
+one little time."
+
+Rita thanked him, but was not hungry. At least she would have a cup of
+_guarapo_, the hospitable cook begged; and he hastened to bring her a
+cup of polished cocoanut shell, filled with the favourite drink, which
+was simply hot water with sugar dissolved in it. Rita took the cup
+graciously, and drank to the health of the camp, and to the freedom of
+Cuba; the cook responded with many bows and profuse thanks for the
+honour she had done him, and the brother and sister passed on.
+
+"There are some good bananas near here," said Carlos; "little red ones,
+the kind you like, Rita. I'll fill a basket for you to take with you;
+Don Annunzio's may not be so good."
+
+They were making their way through a tangle of tall grass and young
+palm-trees, when suddenly Rita stopped, and laid her hand on her
+brother's arm.
+
+"Look!" she said. "Look yonder, Carlos! The grass moves."
+
+"A snake, perhaps," said Carlos; "or a land-crab. Stand here a moment,
+and I will go forward and see."
+
+He advanced, looking keenly at the clump of yellowish grass that Rita
+had pointed out. Certainly, the grass did move. It quivered, waved from
+side to side, then seemed to settle down, as if an invisible hand were
+pulling it from below. Carlos drew his machete, and bent forward;
+whereupon a loud yell was heard, and the clump of grass shot up into the
+air, revealing a black face, and a pair of rolling eyes.
+
+"What is it?" cried Rita, in terror. "Carlos, come back to me! It is a
+devil!"
+
+"Only a scout!" said her brother, laughing. "One of our own men on
+outpost duty. Have peace, Pablo! your hour is not yet come."
+
+"_Caramba!_ I thought it was, my captain!" said the negro scout,
+grinning. "Better be a crab than a Cuban in these days."
+
+He was a singular figure indeed. From head to waist he was literally
+clothed in grass, bunches of it being tied over his head and round his
+neck and shoulders, falling to his thighs. A pair of ragged trousers of
+no particular colour completed his costume. A more perfect disguise
+could not be imagined; indeed, except when he lifted his head, he was
+not to be distinguished from the clumps and tufts of dry grass all about
+him.
+
+"Pablo is a good scout!" said Carlos, approvingly. "No Gringo could
+possibly see you till he stepped on you, Pablo; and then--"
+
+"And then!" said Pablo, grinning from ear to ear; and he drew his
+machete and went through an expressive pantomime which, if carried out,
+would certainly have left very little of Gringo or any one else.
+
+"Is your post near here? show it! The señorita would like to see how a
+Cuban scout lives."
+
+Pablo, a man of few words, gave a pleased nod, and scuttled away through
+the bush, beckoning them to follow. Rita, stepping carefully along,
+holding her brother's hand, kept her eyes on the scout for a few
+moments; then he seemed to melt into the rest of the grass, and was
+gone. A few steps more, and they almost fell over him, as his black face
+popped up again, shaking back its grassy fringes.
+
+"Behold the domicile of Pablo!" he said, with a magnificent gesture.
+"The property, with all it contains, of the señorita and the Señor
+Captain Don Carlos."
+
+Brother and sister tried to look becomingly impressed as they surveyed
+the domain. Close under a waving palm-tree a rag of brown canvas was
+stretched on two sticks laid across upright branches stuck in the
+ground. Under this awning was space for a man to sit, or even to lie
+down, if he did not mind his feet being in the sun. A small iron pot,
+hung on three sticks over some blackened stones, showed where the
+householder did his cooking; a heap of leaves and grass answered for bed
+and pillows; this was the domicile of Pablo.
+
+Breaking a twig from a neighbouring shrub, the scout bent over the pot,
+and speared a plantain, which he offered to Rita with grave courtesy.
+She took it with equal dignity, thanking him with her most gracious
+smile, and ate it daintily, praising its flavour and the perfection of
+its cooking till the good negro's face shone with pleasure.
+
+"And you stay here alone, Pablo?" she asked. "How long? you are not
+afraid? No, of course not that; you are a soldier. But lonely! is it not
+very lonely here, at night above all?"
+
+Pablo spread out his hands. "Señorita, possibly--if it were not for the
+crabs. These good souls--they have the disposition of a Christian!--sit
+with me, in the intervals of their occupations, and are excellent
+company. They cannot talk, but that suits me very well. Then, there is
+always the chance of some one coming by--as to-day, when the Blessed
+Virgin sends the señorita and the Señor Don Carlos. Also at any moment
+the devil may send me a Gringo; their scouts are as plenty as scorpions.
+No, señorita, I am not lonely. It is a fine life! In a prison, you see,
+it would be quite otherwise."
+
+"But there are other ways of living, Pablo, beside scouting and going to
+prison," said Rita, much amused.
+
+"Without doubt! Without doubt!" said Pablo, cheerfully. "And assuredly
+neither would befit the señorita. May she live as happy as she is
+beautiful, the sun being black beside her. _Adios_, señorita; _adios_,
+Señor Captain Don Carlos!"
+
+"_Adios_, good Pablo! good luck to you and your crabs!" and laughing and
+waving a salute, they left the scout nodding his grass-crowned head like
+a transformed mandarin, and went back to the camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE PACIFICOS.
+
+
+A long, low adobe house, brilliantly white with plaster; a verandah with
+swinging hammocks; the inevitable green blinds; the inevitable cane and
+banana patch; this was Don Annunzio's. Don Annunzio Carreno himself (to
+give him his full name for once, though he seldom heard or used it) sat
+in a large rocking-chair on the verandah, smoking. He was enormously
+stout and supremely placid, and he looked the picture of peace and
+prosperity, in his spotless white suit and broad-brimmed hat.
+
+To Rita, weary after her ten miles' ride from the camp, the whole place
+seemed a page out of a picture-book. Her mind was filled with rugged and
+startling images: the rude hospital, with its ghastly sights and homely
+though devoted tendance; the ragged soldiers, with head or arm bound in
+bloody bandages; the camp fire and kitchen, the scout in his grassy
+panoply. Her eyes had grown accustomed to sights like these, and the
+bright whiteness of house and householder, the trim array of flower-beds
+and kitchen-garden, struck her as strange and artificial. She felt as if
+Don Annunzio ought to be wound up from behind, and was whimsically
+surprised to see him rise and come forward to meet them.
+
+Carlos made his explanation, and presented General Sevillo's letter. Don
+Annunzio's hat was already in his hand and he was bowing to Rita with
+all the grace his size allowed; but now he implored them to enter the
+house, which he declared he occupied henceforward only at their
+pleasure.
+
+"If the señorita will graciously descend!" said the good man. "On the
+instant I call my wife. Prudencia! Where are you, then? Visitors,
+Prudencia; visitors of distinction. Hasten quickly!"
+
+A woman appeared in the doorway; tall and lean, clad in brown calico,
+with a sun-bonnet to match, but with apron and kerchief as snowy as Don
+Annunzio's "ducks."
+
+"For the land's sake!" said Señora Carreno.
+
+Rita looked up quickly.
+
+"Visitors, my love!" Don Annunzio explained rapidly, in good enough
+English. "The Señor Captain and the Señorita Montfort, bringing a note
+from his Excellency General Sevillo. The señorita will remain with us
+for some days; I have placed all at her disposal; I--"
+
+"There, Noonsey!" said the lady, not unkindly. "You set down, and let me
+see what's goin' on."
+
+She laid a powerful hand on her husband's shoulder, and pushed him into
+his chair again; then advanced to the verandah steps, regarding the
+newcomers with frank but cheerful scrutiny.
+
+"What's all this?" she said. "Good mornin'! Yes, it's a fine day. Won't
+you step in?"
+
+Carlos told his story, and asked permission for his sister and her maid
+to spend some days at the house until some permanent place could be
+found for her.
+
+The señora considered with frowning brows, not of anger but of
+consideration.
+
+"Well," she said, "I did say I wouldn't take no more boarders. I had
+trouble with the last ones, and said I'd got through accommodatin'
+folks. Still--I dunno but we could manage--does she understand when
+she's spoke to--English, I mean?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I do!" cried Rita, coming forward. "I am only half Cuban;
+it is good to hear you speak. If you will let me stay, I will try to
+give little trouble. May I stay, please?"
+
+"Well, I guess you may!" cried the New England woman. "You walk right in
+and lay off your things, and make yourself to home. The idea! Why didn't
+you say--why, it's as good as a meal o' victuals to hear you speak. Been
+to the States, have you? Well, now, if that don't beat all! Noonsey, you
+go and tell José we shall want them chickens for supper. Set down, young
+man! This your hired gal, dear? Does she speak English? Well no, I
+s'pose not."
+
+She said a few words to Manuela in Spanish which, if not melodious, was
+intelligible, and then led Rita into the house, talking all the way.
+
+"Here's the settin'-room; and here's the spare-room off'n it. There! lay
+your things on the bed, dear. I keep on talkin', when all the time I
+want to hear you talk. It is good to hear your native speech, say what
+they will. Husband, he does his best, to please me; but it's like as
+though he was speakin' molasses, some way. Been in the States to
+school, did you say?"
+
+Rita told her story: of her American father, who had always spoken
+English with her and her brother; of the summer spent in the North with
+her uncle and cousins. "Oh," she said, "you are right. I used to think
+that I was two-thirds Cuban; I thought I cared little, little, for the
+American part of me. Now--but it is music to hear you speak, Señora
+Carreno."
+
+"S'pose you call me Marm Prudence!" said the good woman, half-shyly. "I
+don't see as 'twould be any harm, and I should like dretful well to hear
+the name again. I was a widow when I married Don Noonzio. Yes'm. My
+first husband was captain of a fruit schooner. I voyaged with him
+considerable. He died in Santiago, and I never went back home: I
+couldn't seem to. I washed and sewed for families I knew, and then
+bumbye I married Don Noonzio. He gave me a good home, and he's a good
+provider. There's times, though, that I'm terrible homesick. There! I
+don't know what I should do if 'twa'n't for my settin'-room. Did you
+notice it, comin' through? I just go there and set sometimes, and look
+round, and cry. It does me a sight o' good."
+
+Rita had indeed glanced around the sitting-room as she passed through
+it, but it said nothing to her. The six haircloth chairs, the
+marble-topped centre-table with its wool and bead mat, its glass lamp
+with the red wick, its photograph-album and gilt family Bible, did not
+speak her language. Neither did the mantelpiece, with its two china
+poodles and its bunches of dried grasses in vases of red and white
+Bohemian glass. The Cuban girl could not know how eloquent were all
+these things to the exiled Vermont woman; but she looked sympathetic,
+and felt so, her heart warming to the homely soul, with her rugged
+speech and awkward gestures.
+
+Marm Prudence now insisted that her guest must be tired, and brought out
+a superb quilt, powdered with red and blue stars, to tuck her up under;
+but word came that Captain Montfort was going, and Rita hurried out to
+the verandah to bid him farewell. Carlos took her in his arms,
+affectionately. "How is it, then, little sister?" he asked. "Are you
+reconciled at all? Can you stay here in peace a little, with these good
+people?"
+
+Rita returned his caress heartily. "You were right, Carlos!" she said.
+"You and the dear General were both right. It was wonderful to be there
+in camp; I shall never forget it; I hope I shall be better all my life
+for it; but I could not have stayed long, I see that now. Here I shall
+be taken care of; here I shall rest, as under a grandmother's care. This
+good Marm Prudence,--that is what I am to call her, Carlos,--already I
+love her, already she tends me as a bird tends her young. Ah, Carlos,
+you will not neglect Chico? I leave him as a sacred legacy. The men
+implored me so. They said the bird had brought them good fortune once,
+and would be their salvation again; I had not the heart to take him from
+them. You will see that they do not feed him too much? Already he has
+had a fit of illness from too much kindness on the part of our faithful
+soldiers. Thank you! and have no thought of me, my brother; all will be
+well with me. Return to your glorious duty, son of Cuba. It may be that
+even here, in this peaceful spot, it may be given to your Rita to serve
+the mother we both adore. _Adios_, Carlos! Heaven be with thee!"
+
+Carlos, who was of a practical turn of mind, was always uncomfortable
+when Rita spread her rhetorical wings. He did not see why she could not
+speak plain English. But he kissed her affectionately, heartily glad
+that he could leave her content with her surroundings; and with a
+cordial farewell to the good people of the house, he rode away,
+followed by his clanking orderlies, leading the horse Rita had ridden.
+
+While all this had been going on, Manuela had been arranging her
+mistress's things; shaking out the crumpled dresses, brushing off the
+bits of grass and broken straw that clung to hem and ruffle, mementoes
+of the days in camp. Manuela sighed over these relics, and shook her
+head mournfully.
+
+"Poor Pepe!" she said. "If only he does not fall into a fever from
+grief! Ah, love is a terrible thing! _Dios_! what a rent in the
+señorita's serge skirt! A paralysis on the brambles in that place! yet
+it was a good place. At least there was life. One heard voices, neighing
+of horses, jingling of stirrups. Here we shall grow into two young
+cabbages beside that old one, my señorita and her poor Manuela. Ah, life
+is very sad!"
+
+Here Manuela chanced to look out of the window, and saw a handsome
+Creole boy leading a horse to water in the courtyard. Instantly her
+face lighted up. She flew to the looking-glass, and was arranging her
+hair with passionate eagerness, when the door opened, and Rita entered,
+followed by their kind hostess. Manuela started, then turned to drop a
+demure courtsey. "I was examining the glass," she explained, "to see if
+it was fit for the señorita to use. These common mirrors, you
+understand, they draw the countenance this way, that way,--" she
+expressed her meaning in vivid pantomime,--"one thinks one's visage of
+caoutchouc. But this is passable; I assure you, señorita, passable."
+
+"Well, I declare!" said Marm Prudence. "My best looking-glass, that I
+brought from Chelsea, Massachusetts, when I was first married! If it
+ain't good enough for you, young woman, you're free to do without it,
+and so I tell you."
+
+She spoke with some severity, but softened instantly as she turned to
+Rita. "Now you'll lie down and rest you a spell, won't you, dear?" she
+said. "I must go and see about supper, and I sha'n't be satisfied till I
+see you tucked up under my 'Old Glory spread.' That's what I call it; it
+has the colours, you see. There! comfortable? Now you shut your pretty
+eyes, and have a good sleep. And you," she added, turning to Manuela,
+"can come and help me a spell, if you've nothing better to do. I'm
+short-handed; help is turrible skurce in war-time, and I can keep you
+out of Satan's hands, if nothing else."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+IN HIDING.
+
+
+"You busy, Miss Margaritty?"
+
+It was Marm Prudence's voice, and at the sound Rita opened her door
+quickly. She and Manuela had been holding a mournful consultation over
+the state of her wardrobe, which had had rough usage during the past two
+weeks, and she was glad of an interruption.
+
+"I thought mebbe you'd like to come and set with me a spell while I
+worked."
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Rita, eagerly. "And may I not work, too? Isn't there
+something I can do to help?"
+
+"Why, I should be pleased!" said the good woman. "I'm braidin' hats for
+the soldiers. I promised a dozen to-morrow night. It's pretty work;
+mebbe you'd like to try."
+
+"For the soldiers? For our soldiers? Oh, what joy, Marm Prudencia! No,
+Prudence, you like better that. Show me, please! I burn to begin."
+
+"Why, you're real eager, ain't you?" said Marm Prudence. "Now I'm glad I
+spoke; I thought mebbe 'twould suit you. Young folks like to be at
+something."
+
+In a few minutes the two were seated on the cool inner verandah, looking
+out on the garden, with a great basket between them, heaped with
+delicate strips of palmetto leaf, white and smooth.
+
+"Husband, he whittles 'em for me," Marm Prudence explained. "It's
+occupation for him. Fleshy as he is, he can't get about none too much,
+and this keeps his hands busy. It's hard to be a man and lose the
+activity of your limbs. But there! there's compensations, I always say.
+If Noonsey was as he was ten years ago, he'd be off with the rest, and
+then where'd I be?"
+
+"Then"--Rita's eyes flashed, and she bent nearer her hostess, and spoke
+low. "Then you are not at heart _pacificos_, Marm Prudence. On the
+surface, I understand, I comprehend, it is necessary; but _au fond_, in
+your secret hearts, you are with us; you are Cubans. Is it not so? It
+must be so!"
+
+"Oh, land, yes!" said Marm Prudence, composedly. "I'm an American, you
+see; and husband, he's a Cuban five generations back. We don't have no
+dealin's with the Gringos, more than we're obleeged to. Livin' right
+close t' the road as we do, we can't let out the way we feel, but I
+guess there's mighty few Mambis about here but knows where to come when
+they want things. There ain't many so bold as your brother, to come in
+open daylight, but come night, they're often as thick as bats about the
+garden here. There! I have to shoo' em off sometimes; yet I like to
+have 'em, too."
+
+Rita's face glowed with excitement. "Oh, Marm Prudence," she cried; "how
+glorious! Oh, what fortune, what joy, to be here with you! We will work
+together; we will toil; our blood shall flow in fountains, if it is
+needed. Embrace me, mother of Cuba!"
+
+Marm Prudence put on her spectacles, and surveyed the excited girl with
+some anxiety.
+
+"Let me feel your pult, dear!" she said, soothingly. "You got a touch o'
+sun, like as not, riding in that heat this morning. Now there's no call
+to get worked up, or talk about blood-sheddin'. Blood-sheddin' ain't in
+our line, yours nor mine, nor husband's neither. Fur as doin' goes,
+we're all _pacificos_ here, Miss Margaritty, and you mustn't forget
+that. Just wait a minute, and I'll go and git you a cup of my balm-tea;
+'tis real steadyin' to the nerves, and I expect yours is strung up some
+with all you've be'n through."
+
+Rita protested that she was perfectly well, and not at all excited; but
+she submitted, and drank the balm-tea meekly, as it was cold and
+refreshing.
+
+"It is my ardent nature!" she explained. "It is the fire of my
+patriotism which consumes me. Do you not feel it, Marm Prudence,
+oftentimes, like a flame in your bosom?"
+
+No, Marm Prudence was not aware that she did. Things took folks
+different, she said, placidly. She had an aunt when she was a little
+gal, that used to have spasms reg'lar every time she heard the baker's
+cart. Some thought she had had hopes of the baker before he married a
+widow woman, but you couldn't always account for these things. What a
+pretty braid Rita was getting!
+
+[Illustration: "'WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?'"]
+
+Indeed, the work suited Rita's nimble fingers to perfection, and yard
+after yard of snowy braid rolled over her lap and grew into a pile at
+her feet. She was eager to make her first hat. After an hour or two
+of braiding, she discovered that it suited Manuela's genius better than
+her own. The basket of splints was turned over to the willing
+handmaiden, and good-natured Marm Prudence showed Rita how to sew the
+braids together smooth and flat, and initiated her into the mysteries of
+crown and brim. In a creditably short space of time, Rita, with infinite
+pride, held her first hat aloft, and twirled it round and round on her
+finger.
+
+"But, it is perfect!" she cried. "The shape, the colour, the air of it.
+Manuela, quick! a mirror! hold it for me--so! look!" She took the ribbon
+from her belt, and began to twist it in one coquettish knot after
+another about the hat, which she had set on her dark hair.
+
+"Is that _chic_? Is it adorable, I ask you? Was such a hat ever seen in
+Paris? Never! I wear no other from this day on; hear me swear it! It
+will become the rage; I will make it so. Or--no! I will keep to myself
+the secret, and others will die of envy. I name it, Manuela. The
+Prudencia, for thee, my kind hostess. Why do you laugh?"
+
+Marm Prudence was twinkling in her quiet way. "I was only thinkin'
+there'd have to be one soldier boy go without his hat to-morrow!" she
+said, good-humouredly. "It does look nice on you, though, Miss
+Margaritty, that's certin."
+
+Blushing scarlet, Rita tore the hat from her head.
+
+"Ah!" she cried, casting it on the floor. "Wretch, ingrate, _serpent_
+that I am! Take away the glass, girl! take it away; break it into a
+thousand pieces, to shame my vanity, and never speak to me of hats
+again. Henceforward I tie a shawl over my head, for the remainder of my
+life; I have said it."
+
+Much depressed, she worked away in silence, as if her life depended upon
+it. Manuela, shrugging her shoulders, carried off the glass, but did
+not think it necessary to obey the injunction to break it. She was used
+to her señorita's outbreaks, and returned placidly to her braiding as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+The good hostess regarded her pretty visitor with some alarm, mingled
+with amusement and admiration. She might have her hands full, she
+thought, if she attempted to keep this young lady occupied, and out of
+mischief. The time when she was asleep was likely to be the most
+peaceful time in Casa Annunzio. Yet how pretty she was! and what a
+pleasure it was to hear her speak, something between a bird and a flute.
+On the whole, Marm Prudence thought her coming a thing to be thankful
+for.
+
+Talking with Don Annunzio himself that evening, Rita found him far less
+guarded than his wife in his expression of patriotic zeal. He echoed her
+saying, that every Mambi in the country knew where to come when he
+wanted anything; and he went on to draw lurid pictures of what he would
+do to the Gringos if he but had the power.
+
+"See, señorita!" he said, in his wheezy, asthmatic voice. "I am
+powerless, am I not? Already of a certain age, I am afflicted with an
+accession of flesh; moreover, I am short of breath, owing to this
+apoplexy of an asthma. Worse than this, my legs, if the señorita can
+pardon the allusion, refuse now these two years to do their office. With
+two sticks, I can hobble about the house and garden; without them,
+behold me a fixture. How, then? When the war breaks out, I go to my
+General, to General Sevillo, under whom I served in the ten years' war.
+I say to him, 'Things are thus and thus with me, but still I would serve
+my country. Give me a horse, and let me ride with you as an orderly.'
+Alas! it may not be. 'Annunzio,' he says, 'your day of service in the
+field is over. Stay at home, and help our men when they call upon you.
+Thus you can do more good ten-fold than you could do in the saddle.'
+
+"_Ohimé_! my heart is broken; it is reduced to powder, but what will
+you? reason, joined to authority,--I am but a simple man, and I obey.
+Since then, I sit and whittle splints for my admirable wife. A woman,
+señorita, to rule a nation! The Gringos pass by, and see me working at
+my trade. I greet them civilly, I supply requisitions when backed by
+authority; again, what will you? I suffer in silence till their back is
+turned, and my maledictions accompany them along the road. Ah! if none
+of them had longer life than I wish him, the road would be encumbered
+with corpses. Then,--draw your chair nearer, señorita, if you will have
+the infinite graciousness,--then, at night--it may be this very
+night--the others come. Hush! yes--the Mambis; the sons of Cuba.
+Quietly, by ones, by twos, they appear, dropping from the sky, rising
+from the earth. Then--ha! then, you shall see. Not a word more,
+Señorita Margarita! Donna Prudencia is a pearl, an empress among women,
+but rightly named; she complains that I talk too much on these subjects.
+But when one's heart is in the field, and one's legs refuse to
+follow,--again, what would you? No matter! silence is golden! Wait but a
+little, and you shall see. Who knows? It may be this very night."
+
+Thus Don Annunzio, with many nods and winks, and gestures of dramatic
+caution. His words fanned the flame of Rita's zeal, and she longed for
+one of the promised nocturnal visits. That night and the next she was
+constantly waking, listening for a whisper, the clank of a chain, the
+jingle of a spur; but none came, and the nights passed as peacefully as
+the days. The dozen, and more, were completed; and then, in spite of her
+vow, Rita found time to make one for herself, certainly as pretty a hat
+as heart could desire. So pretty, Rita thought it a thousand pities
+that there was no one beside Don Annunzio and Marm Prudence to see her
+in it. She sighed, and thought of the camp among the hills, of Carlos
+and the General, and Don Uberto.
+
+One day, soon after noon, Marm Prudence asked Rita if she would like to
+take a walk with her. Rita assented eagerly, and put on her pretty hat.
+She looked on with surprise as Marm Prudence proceeded to take from a
+cupboard an ample covered basket, from which protruded the neck of a
+bottle and some plump red bananas.
+
+"Are we going on a picnic, then?" she asked.
+
+The good woman nodded. "You'll see, time enough!" she said. "It's a
+picnic for somebody, if not for us, Miss Margaritty. Look, dear! is Don
+Noonsey out in the ro'd there?"
+
+Don Annunzio was out in the road, having made what was quite a journey
+for him, down the verandah steps, along the garden walk, and across the
+sunny road. He now stood shading his eyes with his hand, looking this
+way and that with anxious glances.
+
+At length, "All is quiet!" he said. "The road is clear, and no sign
+anywhere. Make haste then, _mi alma_, and cross while yet all is safe."
+
+Beckoning to Rita, Marm Prudence slipped out and across the road
+swiftly, not pausing till she had gained the screen of a thick clump of
+cacti. Rita kept close to her side, drinking the mystery like wine. They
+stood for a few moments behind the aloes; then Don Annunzio spoke again.
+
+"All is still perfect, and you may go without fear. Carry my best
+greetings whither you are going. At the proper hour I will await you
+here, and signal when return is safe."
+
+Without wasting words, his wife waved her hand, and turning, plunged
+into the forest, followed by the delighted Rita.
+
+The tangle of underbrush was higher than their heads, but they made
+their way quickly, and Rita soon saw that a narrow path wound along
+through the bush, and that the ground under her feet had been trodden
+many times. The trees towered high above the dense undergrowth, some
+leafy and branching, others, the palms, tossing their single plume
+aloft. Open near the wood, the wood grew thicker and thicker, till it
+stood like a wall on either side of the narrow footpath; the twigs and
+leaves, broken and crushed here and there, showed, like the path, the
+traces of frequent passage.
+
+Rita was burning with curiosity, yet she would not for worlds have asked
+a question. They were nearing every moment the heart of the mystery; she
+would not spoil the dramatic effect by prying into it too soon.
+
+Suddenly, a gleam of sunlight struck through the trees. They were near
+the end of the wood, then. A few steps more, and she caught her breath,
+with a low cry of amazement.
+
+A round hollow, dipping deep like a cup, with here and there a great
+tree standing. On one side, a clear spring flowing from a rocky cleft.
+Under one tree, a hammock slung, and in a hammock a man asleep. Thus
+much Rita saw at the first glance. The next instant the man was on his
+feet, and the long barrel of his carbine gleamed level at sight.
+
+"_Alto! quien va?_" the challenge rang clear and sharp.
+
+"_Cuba!_" replied Señora Carreno. "For the land's sake, Mr. Delmonty,
+don't start a person like that. You'd oughter know my sunbunnit by this
+time."
+
+The young man had already lowered his weapon, and showed a laughing face
+of apology as he lifted his broad-brimmed hat.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Donna Prudencia," he said. "I was asleep, and
+dreaming; not of angels!" he added, as he made another low bow, which
+included Rita in its sweep of respectful courtesy.
+
+He spoke English like an Anglo-Saxon, without trace of accent or
+hesitation. His hair and complexion were brown, but a pair of bright
+blue eyes lightened his face in an extraordinary manner.
+
+Who might this be?
+
+"Mr. Delmonty, let me make ye acquainted with Miss Margaritty Montfort!"
+said Señora Carreno, with some ceremony. "Miss Montfort is stoppin' with
+us for a spell. Both of you bein' half Yankee, I judged you might be
+pleased to meet up with each other."
+
+Rita bowed with her most queenly air; then relaxed, as she met the merry
+glance of the blue eyes.
+
+"Are you?" she said. "I am very glad--but your name is Spanish."
+
+"My father was a Cuban," said the young man; "my mother is American. She
+was a Russell of Claxton." He paused a moment, as if inviting comment;
+but Rita, brought up in Cuba, knew nothing of the Russells of Claxton, a
+famous family.
+
+"I've been in the North most of the time since I was a little shaver,"
+he went on, "at school and college; came down here last year, when
+things seemed to be brewing. Have you been much in Boston, Miss
+Montfort? We might have some acquaintances in common."
+
+Rita shook her head, and told him of her one summer in the North. "I
+hope to go again," she said, "when our country is free. When Cuba has no
+longer need of her daughters, as well as her sons, I shall gladly return
+to that fair northern country."
+
+Again she caught a quizzical glance of the blue eyes, and was reminded,
+she hardly knew why, of her Uncle John. But Uncle John's eyes were
+brown.
+
+"You are--alone here, Señor Delmonte?" she asked, glancing around the
+solitary dell.
+
+"Yes," said the young man, composedly. "I'm in hiding."
+
+Rita's eyes flashed. Hiding! a son of Cuba! skulking about in the woods,
+while his brother soldiers were at the front, or, like Carlos, guarding
+the hill passes! This was indeed being only half a Cuban. She would have
+nothing to do with recreant soldiers; and she turned away with a face of
+cold displeasure.
+
+"How's your foot?" asked Señora Carreno, abruptly. "That last dressing
+fetch it, do you think?"
+
+"All right!" said the young man. "Look! I have my shoe on." And he held
+up one foot with an air of triumph. "I shall be ready for the road
+to-night, and take my troublesome self off your hands, Señora Carreno."
+
+"No trouble at all!" said the good woman, earnestly. "Not a mite of
+trouble but what was pleasure, Captain Jack."
+
+Captain Jack! where had Rita heard that name? Before she could try to
+think, her hostess went on.
+
+"Well, I kinder hate to have you go, but of course you're eager, same as
+all young folks are. But look here! You'd better pass the night with us,
+and let me see to your foot once more, and give you a good night's sleep
+in a Christian bed; and then I can mend up your things a bit, and you
+lay by till night again, and start off easy and comfortable."
+
+"It sounds very delightful," said the young man, with a glance at the
+charming girl who would stand with her head turned away. "But how about
+the Gringos, Donna Prudencia? Supposing some of them should come along
+to-morrow!"
+
+"They won't come to-morrow!" said Marm Prudence, significantly.
+
+"No? you have assurance of that? and why may they not come to-morrow?"
+
+"Because they've come to-day, most likely!"
+
+Rita started, and turned back toward the speakers.
+
+"The Gringos? to-day?" she cried.
+
+Marm Prudence nodded. "That was why I brought you here, dear," she said;
+"most of the reason, that is. We got word they was most likely comin',
+quite a passel of 'em; and we judged it was well, Don Noonsey and me,
+that they shouldn't see you. I thought mebbe," she added, with a sly
+glance at the basket, "that if I brought a little something extry, we
+might get an invitation to take a bite of luncheon, but we don't seem
+to."
+
+"Oh! but who could have supposed that I was to have _all_ the good
+things in the world?" cried Delmonte, merrily. "This is really too good
+to be true. Help me, Donna Prudencia, while I set out the feast! Why,
+this is the great day of the whole campaign."
+
+The two unpacked the basket, with many jests and much laughter; they
+were evidently old friends. Meantime Rita stood by, uncertain of her own
+mood. To miss an experience, possibly terrible, certainly thrilling; to
+have lost an opportunity of declaring herself a daughter of Cuba,
+possibly of shooting a Spaniard for herself, and to have been deceived,
+tricked like a child; this brought her slender brows together,
+ominously, and made her eyes glitter in a way that Manuela would have
+known well. On the other hand--here was a romantic spot, a young
+soldier, apparently craven, but certainly wounded, and very
+good-looking; and here was luncheon, and she was desperately hungry. On
+the whole--
+
+The tragedy queen disappeared, and it was a cheerful though very
+dignified young person who responded gracefully to Delmonte's petition
+that she would do him the favour to be seated at his humble board.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY.
+
+
+That was a pleasant little meal, under the great plane-tree in the
+cup-shaped dell. Marm Prudence had kept, through all her years of
+foreign residence, her New England touch in cookery, and Señor Delmonte
+declared that it was worth a whole campaign twice over to taste her
+doughnuts. They drank "_Cuba Libre_" in raspberry vinegar that had come
+all the way from Vermont, and Rita was obliged to confess that Señor
+Delmonte was a charming host, and that she was enjoying herself
+extremely.
+
+It was late in the afternoon when she and Marm Prudence took their way
+back through the forest. At first Rita was silent; but as distance
+increased between them and the dell, she could not restrain her
+curiosity.
+
+How was it, she asked, that this young man was there alone, separated
+from his companions? He said he was in hiding. Hiding! a detestable, an
+unworthy word! Why should a son of Cuba be in hiding, she wished to
+know! She had worked herself into a fine glow of indignation again, and
+was ready to believe anything and everything bad about the agreeable
+youth with the blue eyes.
+
+"I must know!" she repeated, dropping her voice to a contralto note that
+she was fond of. "Tell me, Marm Prudence; tell me all! have I broken the
+bread of a recreant?"
+
+"I thought it was my bread," said Marm Prudence, dryly. "I'll tell you,
+if you'll give me a chance, Miss Margaritty. I supposed, though, that
+you'd have heard of Jack Delmonty; Captain Jack, as they call him. Since
+his last raid the Gringos have offered a big reward for him, alive or
+dead. He was wounded in the foot, and thought he might hender his troop
+some if he tried to go with them in that state. So he camped here, and
+we've seen to him as best we could."
+
+Rita was dumb, half with amazement, half with mortification. How was it
+possible that she had been so stupid? Heard of Captain Jack? where were
+her wits? the daring guerrilla leader, the pride of the Cuban bands, the
+terror of all Spaniards in that part of the island. Why, he was one of
+her pet heroes; only--only she had fancied him so utterly different. The
+Captain Jack of her fancy was a gigantic person, with blue-black curls,
+with eyes like wells of black light (she had been fond of this bit of
+description, and often repeated it to herself), a superb moustache, and
+a nose absolutely Grecian, like the Santillo nose of tender memory. This
+half-Yankee stripling, blue-eyed, with a nose that--yes, that actually
+turned up a little, and the merest feather of brown laid on his upper
+lip--how could she or any one suppose this to be the famous cavalry
+leader?
+
+Rita blushed scarlet with distress, as she remembered her bearing, which
+she had tried to make as scornful as was compatible with good manners.
+She had meant, had done her best, to show him that she thought lightly
+of a Cuban soldier who, for what reason soever, proclaimed himself
+without apology to be "in hiding." To be sure, he had not seemed to feel
+the rebuke as she had expected he would. Once or twice she had caught
+that look of Uncle John in his eyes; the laughing, critical, yet kindly
+scrutiny that always made her feel like a little girl, and a silly girl
+at that. Was that what she had seemed to Captain Delmonte? Of course it
+was. She had had the great, the crowning opportunity of her life, of
+doing homage to a real hero (she forgot good General Sevillo, who had
+been a hero in a quiet and business-like way for sixty years), and she
+had lost the opportunity.
+
+It was a very subdued Rita who returned to the house that evening. At
+the edge of the wood they were met by Don Annunzio, who stood as before,
+smoking his long black cigar, and scrutinising the road and the
+surrounding country. A wave of his hand told them that all was well, and
+they stepped quickly across the road, and in another minute were on the
+verandah.
+
+Don Annunzio followed them with an elaborate air of indifference; but
+once seated in his great chair, he began to speak eagerly, gesticulating
+with his cigar.
+
+"_Dios!_ Prudencia, you had an inspiration from heaven this day. What I
+have been through! the sole comfort is that I have lost twenty pounds at
+least, from sheer anxiety. Imagine that you had not been gone an hour,
+when up they ride, the _guerrilla_ that was reported to us yesterday. At
+their head, that pestiferous Col. Diego Moreno. He dismounts, demands
+coffee, bananas, what there is. I go to get them; and, the saints
+aiding me, I meet in the face the pretty Manuela. Another instant, and
+she would have been on the verandah, would have been seen by these
+swine, female curiosity having led her to imagine a necessary errand in
+that direction. I seize this charming child by the shoulders, I push her
+into her room. I tell her, 'Thou hast a dangerous fever. Go to thy bed
+on the instant, it is a matter of thy life.'
+
+"My countenance is such that she obeys without a word. She is an
+admirable creature! Beauty, in the female sex--"
+
+"Do go on, Noonsey," said his wife, good-naturedly, "and never mind
+about beauty now. Land knows we have got other things to think about."
+
+"It is true, it is true, my own!" replied the amiable fat man. "I return
+to the verandah. This man is striding up and down, cutting at my poor
+vines with his apoplexy of a whip. He calls me; I stand before him
+thus, civil but erect.
+
+"'Have you any strangers here, Don Annunzio?'
+
+"'No, Señor Colonel.'
+
+"It is true, señorita. To make a stranger of you, so friendly, so
+gracious--the thought is intolerable.
+
+"He approaches, he regards me fixedly.
+
+"'A young lady, Señorita Montfort, and her maid, escaped from the
+carriage of her stepmother, the honourable Señora Montfort, while on the
+way to the convent of the White Sisters, ten days ago. A man of my
+command was taken by these hill-cats of Mambis, and carried to a camp in
+this neighbourhood. He escaped, and reported to me that a young lady and
+her attendant were in the camp. I raided the place yesterday.'
+
+"'With success, who can doubt?' I said. Civility may be used even to the
+devil, whom this officer strongly resembled.
+
+"He stamped his feet, he ground his teeth, fire flashed from his eyes.
+'They were gone!' he said. 'They had been gone but a few hours, for the
+fires were still burning, but no trace of them was to be found. I found,
+however, in a deserted _rancho_,--this!' and he held up a delicate comb
+of tortoise-shell."
+
+"My side-comb!" cried Rita. "I wondered where I had lost it. Go on,
+pray, Don Annunzio."
+
+"He questioned me again, this colonel, on whom may the saints send a
+lingering disease. I can swear that there is no young lady in the house?
+but assuredly, I can, and do swear it, with all earnestness. He
+whistles, and swears also--in a different manner. He says, 'I must
+search the house. This is an important matter. A large reward is offered
+by the Señora Montfort for the discovery of this young lady.'
+
+"'Search every rat-hole, my colonel,' I reply; 'but first take your
+coffee, which is ready at this moment.'
+
+"In effect, Antonia arrives at the instant with the tray. While she is
+serving him, I find time to slip with the agility of the serpent into
+the passage, and turn the handle of the bedroom door. 'Spotted fever!' I
+cry through the crack; and am back at my post before the colonel could
+see round Antonia's broad back. Good! he drinks his coffee. He devours
+your cakes, my Prudencia, keeping his eye on me all the time, and plying
+me with questions. I tell him all is well with us, except the sickness.
+
+"'How then? what sickness?'
+
+"'A servant is ill with fever,' I say. 'We hope that it will not spread
+through the house; it is a bad time for fever.' I see he does not like
+that, he frowns, he mutters maledictions. I profess myself ready to
+conduct him through my poor premises; I lead him through the parlour,
+which he had not sense to admire, to the kitchen, to our own apartment,
+my cherished one. All the time my heart flutters like a wounded dove. I
+cry in my soul, 'All depends on the wit of that child. If she had but
+gone with Prudencia to the forest!'
+
+"Finally there is no escape, we must pass the door. I stop before it.
+'Open!' says the colonel.
+
+"'Your Excellency will observe,' I say, 'that there is a dangerous case
+of spotted fever in this room.'
+
+"He turns white, then black. He pulls his moustache, which resembles a
+mattress.
+
+"At last 'How do I know?' he cries; 'You may be lying! all Cubans are
+liars. The girl may be in this room!'
+
+[Illustration: "'I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART IN MY
+MOUTH.'"]
+
+"I throw open the door and step back, my heart in my mouth, my eyes
+flinging themselves into the apartment. Heavens! what do we see? a
+hideous face projects itself from the bed. Red--black--a face from the
+pit! A horrible smell is in our nostrils--we hear groans--enough! The
+colonel staggers back, cursing. I close the door and follow him out to
+the verandah. My own nerves are shaken, I admit it; it was a thing to
+shatter the soul. Still cursing, he mounts his horse, and rides away
+with his troop. I see them go. They carry away the best of what the
+house holds, but what of that? they are gone!
+
+"I hasten, as well as my infirmity allows, to the chamber. I cry
+'Manuela, is it thou?'
+
+"I am bidden to enter. I open the door, and find that admirable child at
+the toilet-table, washing her face and laughing till the tears flow.
+Already half of her pretty face is clean, but half still hideous to
+behold.
+
+"'How did you do it?' I ask her. She laughs more merrily than before; if
+you have noticed, she has a laughter of silver bells, this maiden. 'The
+red lip-salve,' she says, 'and a little ink. Have no fear, Don
+Annunzio; it was you who discovered the fever, you know.'
+
+"'But the smell, my child? there must be something bad here, something
+unhealthy; a vile smell!'
+
+"She laughs again, this child. 'I burned a piece of tortoise-shell,' she
+says. 'Saint Ursula forgive me, it was one of the señorita's side-combs,
+but there was nothing else at hand.'
+
+"Thus then, señorita, thus, my Prudencia, has Manuela virtually saved
+our house and ourselves. Hasten to embrace her! I have already permitted
+myself the salute of a father upon her charming cheek, as simple
+gratitude enjoined it."
+
+As if by magic--could she have been listening in the passage?--Manuela
+appeared, blushing and radiant. Donna Prudencia did not think it
+necessary to kiss her, but she shook her warmly by the hand, telling her
+that she was a good girl, and fit to be a Yankee, a compliment which
+Manuela hardly appreciated. As for Rita, she kissed the girl on both
+cheeks, and stood holding her hands, gazing at her with wistful eyes.
+
+"Ah, Manuela," she cried; "I must not begrudge it to you. You are a
+heroine; you have had the opportunity, and you knew how to take it.
+Daughter of Cuba, your sister blesses you."
+
+Before Manuela could reply, Donna Prudencia broke in. "There! there!"
+she said. "Come down off your high horse, Miss Margaritty, there's a
+dear; and help me to see to things. Here's Captain Delmonty coming
+to-night, and them chicken-thieves of Gringos have carried off every
+living thing there was to eat in the house."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+CAPTAIN JACK.
+
+
+When Jack Delmonte appeared, late in the evening, he was puzzled at the
+change which had come over the pretty Grand Duchess, as he had mentally
+nicknamed Rita. In the afternoon she had appeared, he could not imagine
+why, to regard him as a portion of the scum of the earth. He thought her
+extremely pretty, and full of charm, yet he could not help feeling
+provoked, in spite of his amusement, at the disdainful curl at the
+corners of her mouth when she addressed him. Now, he was equally at a
+loss to understand why or how the Grand Duchess was replaced by a gentle
+and tender-voiced maiden, who looked up at him from under her long
+curved lashes with timid and deprecatory glances. She insisted on
+mixing his _granita_ herself, and brought it in the one valuable cup
+Marm Prudence possessed, a beautiful old bit of Lowestoft. She begged to
+hear from his own lips about his last raid--about all his raids. She had
+heard about some of them; the one where he had swum the river under fire
+to rescue the little lame boy; the other, when he had chased five
+Spaniards for half a mile, with no other weapon than a banana pointed at
+full cock. She even knew of some exploits that he had never heard of;
+and the honest captain found himself blushing under his tan, and finally
+changed the subject by main force. It was very pleasant, of course, to
+have this lovely creature hanging on his words, and supplementing them
+with others of her own, only too extravagantly laudatory; but a fellow
+must tell the truth; and--and after all, what was the meaning of it? She
+wouldn't look at him, three hours ago.
+
+Had they had a gay winter in Havana? he asked. He hadn't been to a dance
+for forty years. Was she fond of dancing? of course she was. What a pity
+they couldn't--here he happened to glance at Rita's black dress, and
+stopped short.
+
+"Miss Montfort, I beg your pardon! It was very stupid of me. I ran on
+without thinking. You are in mourning. What a brute I am!"
+
+The tears had gathered in Rita's eyes, but now she smiled through them.
+"It is six months since my father died," she said. "He was the kindest
+of fathers, though, alas! Spanish in his sympathies."
+
+"Your mother?" hazarded Jack, full of sympathy.
+
+"My mother died three years ago. My stepmother--" then followed the tale
+of her persecution, her escape, and subsequent adventures. Captain Jack
+was delighted with the story.
+
+"Hurrah!" he exclaimed. "That was tremendously plucky, you know, going
+off in that way. That was fine! and you got to your brother all right? I
+wonder--is he--are you any relation of Carlos Montfort? Not his sister?
+You don't mean it. Why, I was at school with Carlos, the first school I
+ever went to. An old priest kept it, in Plaza Nero. Carlos was a good
+fellow, and gave me the biggest licking once--I'm very glad we met, Miss
+Montfort. And--I don't mean to be impertinent, I'm sure you know that;
+but--what are you going to do now?"
+
+Alas! Rita did not know. "I thought I was safe here," she said. "I was
+to stay here with these good people till word came from my uncle in the
+States, or till there was a good escort that might take me to some port
+whence I could sail to New York. Now--I do not know; I begin to tremble,
+Señor Delmonte. To-day, while Donna Prudencia and I were in the forest,
+a Spanish _guerrilla_ came here, looking for me. Don Diego Moreno was in
+command. He is a friend of my stepmother's. I know him, a cold, hateful
+man. If he had found me--" she shuddered.
+
+"I know Diego Moreno, too," said Delmonte; and his brow darkened. "He is
+not fit to look at you, much less to speak to you. Never mind, Miss
+Montfort! don't be afraid; we'll manage somehow. If no better way turns
+up, I'll take you to Puerto Blanco myself. Trouble is, these fellows are
+rather down on me just now; but we'll manage somehow, never fear! Hark!
+what's that?"
+
+He leaned forward, listening intently. A faint sound was heard, hardly
+more than a breathing. Some night-bird, was it? It came from the fringe
+of forest across the road. Again it sounded, two notes, a long and a
+short one, soft and plaintive. A bird, certainly, thought Rita. She
+started as Captain Delmonte imitated the call, repeating it twice.
+
+"Juan," he said, briefly. "Reporting for orders. Here he comes!"
+
+A burly figure crossed the road in three strides. Three more brought him
+to the verandah, where he saluted and stood at attention.
+
+"Well, Juan, where are the rest of you?"
+
+"In the usual place, Señor Captain, four miles from here," said the
+orderly. "I have brought Aquila; he is here in the thicket, my own horse
+also. Will you ride to-night?"
+
+"To-morrow, at daybreak, Juan. I have promised Señora Carreno to sleep
+one night under her roof, and convince her that my foot is entirely
+well. Bring Aquila into the courtyard. All is quiet in the
+neighbourhood?"
+
+"All quiet, Señor Captain. Good; I bring Aquila and return to the troop.
+You will be with us, then, before sunrise?"
+
+"Before sunrise without fail," said Captain Jack. "_Buenos noches,
+Juanito!_"
+
+The trooper saluted again, and slipped back across the road; next moment
+he reappeared leading a long, lean, brown horse, who walked as if he
+were treading on eggshells. They passed into the courtyard and were seen
+no more, Juan making his way back to the thicket by some unseen path.
+
+"You do not stay with us through the day then, Mr. Delmonte? I am
+sorry!" said Rita.
+
+"I wish I could, indeed I do; but I must get to my fellows as soon as
+possible. I shall come back, though, in a day or two, and put myself and
+my troop at your orders, Miss Montfort. How would you like to lead a
+troop, like Madame Hernandez?" He laughed, but Rita's eyes flashed.
+
+"But I would die to do it!" she cried. "Ah! Señor Delmonte, once to
+fight for my country, and then to die--that is my ambition."
+
+"And you'd do it well, I am sure!" said Delmonte, warmly; "the fighting
+part, I mean. But nobody would let you die, Miss Montfort, it would
+spoil the prospect."
+
+He spoke lightly, for heroics embarrassed him, as they did Carlos.
+
+Soon after, Donna Prudencia appeared, with bedroom candles, and stood
+looking benevolently at the two young people.
+
+"I expect you've been having a good visit," she said. "Well, there's an
+end to all, and it's past ten o'clock, Miss Margaritty."
+
+Rita rose with some reluctance; nor did Captain Delmonte seem
+enthusiastic on the subject of going to bed.
+
+"Such a beautiful night!" he said. "Must you go, Miss Montfort? I
+mustn't keep you up, of course. Good-bye, then, for a few days! I shall
+be gone before daybreak. I'm very glad we have met."
+
+They shook hands heartily. Rita somehow did not find words so readily as
+usual. "I too am glad," she said. "It is something--I have always
+wished to meet the 'Star of Horsemen!'"
+
+"Oh, _please_ don't!" cried Jack, in distress. "That was just a joke of
+those idiots of mine. Good gracious! if you go to calling names, Miss
+Montfort, I shall not dare to come back again. Good night!"
+
+It was long before Rita could sleep. She lay with wide-open eyes,
+conjuring up one scene after another, in all of which Captain Delmonte
+played the hero's part, and she the heroine's. He was rescuing her
+single-handed from a regiment of Spaniards; they were galloping together
+at the head of a troop, driving the Gringos like sheep before them. Or,
+he was wounded on the field of battle, and she was kneeling beside him,
+holding water to his lips, and blessing the good Cuban surgeon who had
+taught her bandaging in the camp among the hills. At length, hero and
+heroine, Cuban and Spaniard, faded away, and she slept peacefully.
+
+"What is it? what is the matter?" Rita sprang up in her bed and
+listened. The sound that had awakened her was repeated: a knock at the
+door; a voice, low but imperative; the voice of Jack Delmonte.
+
+"Miss Montfort! are you awake?"
+
+"Yes; what has happened?"
+
+"The Gringos! Dress yourself quickly, and come out. You can dress in the
+dark?"
+
+"Yes; oh, yes! I will come. Manuela! wake! wake! don't speak, but dress
+yourself; the Spaniards are here."
+
+Hastily, with trembling hands, the two girls put on their clothes. No
+thought now of how or what; anything to cover them, and that quickly.
+They hurried out into the passage; Delmonte stood there, carbine in
+hand. He spoke almost in a whisper, yet every word fell clearly on their
+strained ears.
+
+"It's not Moreno; it's Velaya's _guerrilla_: we must get away before
+they fire the house. Give me your hand, Miss Montfort; you will be
+quiet, I know. Your maid?"
+
+"Manuela, you will not speak!"
+
+"No, señorita!" said poor Manuela, with a stifled sob.
+
+"My horse is ready saddled," Delmonte went on. "If I can get you away
+before they see us--"
+
+"Me! but what will become of the others?" cried Rita, under her breath.
+"I cannot desert Manuela and Marm Prudence--Donna Prudencia."
+
+"I am going to save you," said Jack Delmonte, quietly. "If for no other
+reason, I have just given my word to Donna Prudencia. The rest--I'll get
+back as soon as I can, that's all I can say. Follow me! hark!"
+
+A shot rang out; another, and another. A hubbub of voices rose within
+and without the house; and at the same instant a bright light sprang up,
+and they saw each other's faces.
+
+Delmonte ground his teeth. "Wait!" he said; and going a little way along
+the passage, he peered from a window. The verandah swarmed with armed
+men. The door was locked and barred, but they were smashing the
+window-shutters with the butts of their carbines. He glanced along the
+passage. Inside the door stood Don Annunzio, in his vast white pajamas,
+firing composedly through a wicket; beside him his wife, as quietly
+loading and handing him the weapons. Behind them huddled the few house
+and farm servants, negroes for the most part, but among them was one
+intelligent-looking young Creole. Singling him out, Delmonte led him
+apart, and pointed to Manuela. "Your sister!" he said. "Your life for
+hers."
+
+The youth nodded, and beckoned the frightened girl to stand beside him.
+Rita saw no more, for Delmonte, grasping her hand firmly, led her
+through the winding passage and into the inner courtyard. Pausing a
+moment on the verandah, they looked through the archway at one side,
+through which streamed a red glare. The cane patch was on fire, and
+blazing fiercely. The flames tossed and leaped, and in front of them men
+were running with torches, setting fire to sheds and out-houses. Their
+shouts, the crackling and hissing of the flames, the shots and cries
+from the front of the house, turned the quiet night wild with horror. A
+crash behind them told that the front door had yielded.
+
+"It's run for it, now!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Now, then,
+child,--quick!"
+
+A few steps, and they were beside the brown horse, standing saddled and
+bridled, and already quivering and straining to be off. Delmonte lifted
+Rita in his arms,--no time now for courtly mounting,--then sprang to the
+saddle before her. He spoke to the horse, who stood trembling, but made
+no motion to advance.
+
+"Aquila, softly past the gate--then for life! good boy! Miss Montfort,
+put your arms around me, and hold fast. Don't let go unless I drop; then
+try to catch the reins, and give him his head. He knows the way."
+
+Softly, slowly, Aquila crept to the archway. He might have been shod
+with velvet for any sound he made. Could they get away unseen? The men
+with the torches were busy at their horrid work; they could not be seen
+yet from the front of the house. The horse crept forward, silent as a
+phantom. They were clear of the archway. "Now!" whispered Delmonte. "For
+life, Aquila!" and Aquila went, for life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FOR LIFE.
+
+
+"If we can put the fire between us and them," said Captain Jack, "we
+shall get off."
+
+For a moment it seemed as if they might do it. Already they saw the road
+before them, the sand glowing red in the firelight. A few more
+strides--Just then, a Spanish soldier came running round the corner of
+the burning cane-patch, whirling his blazing torch. He saw them, and
+raised a shout. "_Alerta! alerta!_ fugitives! after them! shoot down the
+Mambi dogs!"
+
+There was a rush to the corner where a score of horses stood tethered to
+the fence. A dozen men leaped into the saddle and came thundering in
+pursuit. Aquila gave one glance back; then stretched his long lean
+neck, and settled into a gallop.
+
+Before them the road lay straight for some distance, red here in the
+crimson light, further on white under a late moon. On one side the woods
+rose black and still, on the other lay open fields crossed here and
+there by barbed wire fences. No living creature was to be seen on the
+road. No sound was heard save the muffled beat of the horse's hoofs on
+the sand, and behind, the shouts and cries of their pursuers. Were they
+growing louder, those shouts? Were they gaining, or was the distance
+between them widening? Rita turned her head once to look back. "I
+wouldn't do that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Do you mind, Miss Montfort,
+if I swing you round in front of me? Don't be alarmed, Aquila is all
+right."
+
+Before Rita could speak, he had dropped the reins on the horse's neck,
+and lifted her bodily round to the peak of the saddle before him. "I'm
+sorry!" he said, apologetically. "I fear it is very uncomfortable;
+but--I can--a--manage better, don't you see?" But to himself he was
+saying, "Lucky I got that done before the beggars began to shoot. Now
+they may fire all they like. Stupid duffer I was, not to start right."
+
+He had felt the girl's light figure quiver as he lifted her.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Miss Montfort," he said again. "There isn't a
+horse in the country that can touch Aquila when he is roused."
+
+"I am not frightened," said Rita. "I am--excited, I suppose. It is like
+riding on wind, isn't it?"
+
+It was true that she felt no fear; neither did she realise the peril of
+their position. It was one of the dreams come true, that was all. She
+was riding with Delmonte, with the Star of Horsemen. He was saving her
+life. They had ridden so before, often and often; only now--
+
+_Pah!_ a short, sharp report was heard, and a little dust whiffed up on
+the road beside them. _Pah! pah!_ another puff of dust, and splinters
+flew from a tree just beyond them. Aquila twitched his ears and
+stretched his long neck, and they felt the stride quicken under them.
+The road rushed by; they were half-way to the turn.
+
+"Would you like to hold the reins for a bit?" asked Delmonte. "It isn't
+really necessary, but--thanks! that's very nice."
+
+What was he doing? He had turned half round in the saddle; something
+touched her hair--the butt of his carbine. "I _beg_ your pardon!" said
+Captain Jack. "I am very clumsy, I fear."
+
+_Crack!_ went the carbine. Rita's ears rang with the noise; she held the
+reins mechanically, only half-conscious of herself. _Pah! pah!_ and
+again _crack!_ The blue rifle-smoke was in her eyes and nostrils, the
+Mauser bullets pattered like hail on the road; and still Aquila galloped
+on, never turning his head, never slackening his mighty stride, and
+still the road rushed by, and the turn by the hill grew nearer--nearer--
+
+_Pah!_ Rita felt her companion wince. His left arm relaxed its hold and
+dropped at his side. With his right hand he carefully replaced his
+carbine in its sling.
+
+"For life, Aquila!" he said softly, in Spanish; and once more Aquila
+gathered his great limbs under him, and once more the terrible pace
+quickened.
+
+A stone? a hole in the road? who knows? In a moment they were all down,
+horse and riders flung in a heap together. The horse struggled to his
+knees, then fell again. He screamed, an agonising sound, that in Rita's
+excited mind seemed to mingle with the smoke and the dust in a cloud of
+horror. Every moment she expected to feel the iron hoofs crashing into
+her, as the frenzied creature struggled to regain his footing.
+
+Delmonte had sprung clear, and in an instant he was at Rita's side,
+raising her. "You are hurt? no? good! keep behind me, please."
+
+He went to the horse, and tried to lift him, bent to examine him, and
+then shook his head. Aquila would not rise again; his leg was shattered.
+Delmonte straightened himself and looked about him. If this had happened
+a hundred, fifty yards back! but now the woods were gone, and on either
+hand stretched a bare savannah, broken only by the hateful barbed wire
+fences. He drew his revolver quietly. The healthy brown of his face had
+gone gray; his eyes were like blue steel. He looked at Rita, and met her
+eyes fixed on him in a mute anguish of entreaty.
+
+"Have no fear!" he said. "It shall be as it would with my own sister. I
+know these men; they shall not touch you alive."
+
+He bent once more over the struggling beast, and even in his agony
+Aquila knew his master, and turned his eyes lovingly toward him,
+expecting help; and help came.
+
+"Good-bye, lad!" The pistol cracked, and the tortured limbs sank into
+quiet.
+
+"Lie down behind him!" Delmonte commanded. "So! now, still."
+
+He knelt behind the dead horse, facing the advancing Spaniards. The
+revolver cracked again, and the foremost horseman dropped, shot through
+the head. The troop was now close upon them; Rita could see the fierce
+faces, and the gleam of their wolfish teeth. Delmonte fired again, and
+another man dropped, but still the rest came on. There was no help,
+then?
+
+Delmonte looked at Rita; she closed her eyes, expecting death. The air
+was full of cries and curses. But--what other sound was that? Not from
+before, but behind them--round the turn of the road--some one was
+singing! In all the hurry of her flying thoughts Rita steadied herself
+to listen.
+
+        "For it's whoop-la! whoop!
+         Git along, my little dogies;
+         For Wyoming shall be your new home!--
+
+"What in the Rockies is going on here, anyhow?"
+
+Rita turned her head. A horseman had come around the bend, and checked
+his horse, looking at the scene before him. A giant rider on a giant
+horse. The moon shone on his brown uniform, his slouched felt hat, and
+the carbine laid across his saddle-bow. Under the slouched hat looked
+out a bronzed face, grim and bearded, lighted by eyes blue as Delmonte's
+own.
+
+Rita gave one glance. "Help!" she cried, "America, help!"
+
+"America's the place!" said the horseman. He waved his hand to some one
+behind him, then put his horse to the gallop. Next instant he was beside
+them.
+
+Delmonte started to his feet, revolver in hand. "U. S. A.?" he said.
+"You're just in time, uncle. I'm glad to see you."
+
+"Always like to be on time at a party," said the rough rider, levelling
+his carbine. "My fellows are--in short, here they are!"
+
+There was a scurry of hoofs, a shout, and thirty horsemen swept around
+the curve and came racing up.
+
+"What's up, Cap'n Jim?" cried one. "Have we lost the fun? Gringos, eh?
+hooray!"
+
+The Spaniards had checked their horses. Four of them lay dead in the
+road, and several others were wounded. At sight of the mounted troop,
+they stopped and held a hurried consultation, then turned their horses
+and rode away.
+
+The giant looked at Delmonte. "Want to follow?" he asked. "This is your
+hand, comrade."
+
+"I want a horse!" said Captain Jack. "Miss Montfort,"--he turned to
+Rita, who had risen to her feet, and stood pale but quiet,--"these are
+our own good country-men. If I leave you with them but a few moments--"
+
+"Hold on!" said the big man. "What did you call the young lady?"
+
+Delmonte stared. "This is Miss Montfort," he said, rather formally.
+
+"Not Rita!" cried the giant. "Pike's Peak and Glory Gulch! Don't tell me
+it's Rita!"
+
+"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Rita, running forward with outstretched hands. "It
+is--I am! and you--oh, I know, I know. You are Peggy's big brother. You
+are Cousin Jim!"
+
+"That's what they said when they christened me!" said Cousin Jim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MEETINGS AND GREETINGS.
+
+
+It was no time for explanations. Jim Montfort put out a hand like a pine
+knot, and gave Rita's fingers a huge shake.
+
+"Glad to find you, cousin," he said. "I've been looking for you. Now,
+what's up over there?" He nodded in the direction of the fire.
+
+"A _candela_," said Delmonte, briefly. "I must get back; there are women
+there. If one of your men will catch me that horse--"
+
+"But you are wounded!" cried Rita. "Cousin, he is shot in the arm. Do
+not let him go!"
+
+Delmonte laughed. "It's nothing, Miss Montfort," he said; "but nothing
+at all, I assure you. When we get to camp you shall put some carbolic
+acid on it, and tie it up for me; that's field practice in Cuba. I shall
+be proud to be your first field patient." He spoke in his usual laughing
+way; but suddenly his face changed, and he leaned toward her swiftly,
+his hand on the horse's mane. "I shall never forget this time--our ride
+together," he said. "I hope you will not forget either--please? And now,
+Miss Montfort, I have no further right over you. I would have done my
+best, I think you know that; but--I must give you into your cousin's
+protection. You will remain here?"
+
+"Of course she will!" said Cousin Jim, who had heard only the last
+words. "I'll go with you, comrade. Raynham, Morton, you will mount guard
+by the lady."
+
+The troopers saluted, and raised their hats civilly to Rita, inwardly
+cursing their luck. Because they owned the next ranch to Jim Montfort,
+was that any reason why they should lose all the fun? and why could not
+girls stay at home where they belonged?
+
+But Rita herself cried out and clasped her hands, and ran to her cousin.
+"Oh, Cousin Jim--Señor Delmonte--let me go with you! Please, please let
+me go back. My poor Manuela--Marm Prudence--they may be hurt, wounded.
+There can be no danger with all these brave men. Cousin, I have been in
+a camp hospital, I know how to dress wounds. I can be quiet--Señor
+Delmonte, tell him I can be quiet!"
+
+She looked eagerly at Delmonte.
+
+"I can tell him that you are the bravest girl I ever saw," he said.
+"But, you have been through a great deal. I don't like to have you go
+back among those rascals."
+
+James Montfort stroked his brown beard thoughtfully.
+
+"Guess it's safe enough," he said at last. "Guess there's enough of us
+to handle 'em. Don't know but on the whole she'll be better off with
+us. My sister Peggy wouldn't like to miss any circus there was going,
+would she, little girl? Catch another of those beasts for the lady,
+Bill!"
+
+Rita, with one of her quick gestures, caught his great hand in both
+hers. "Oh, you good cousin!" she cried. "You dear cousin! You are the
+very best and the very biggest person in the world, and I love you."
+
+"Well, well, well!" said Cousin Jim, somewhat embarrassed. "There,
+there! so you shall, my dear; so you shall. But as for being big, you
+should see Lanky 'Liph of Bone Gulch. Now there--but here is your horse,
+missy."
+
+The horses of the dead Spaniards had been circling about them, more or
+less shyly. Two of them were quickly caught by the rough riders, and
+Rita and Delmonte mounted. As they did so, both glanced toward the spot
+where lay the brave horse that had borne them so well.
+
+"It was for life indeed, Aquila!" said Captain Jack, softly. His eyes
+met Rita's, and she saw the brightness of tears in them. Next moment
+they were galloping back to the _residencia_.
+
+They came only just in time. Not ten minutes had passed since they left
+the courtyard, but in that time the savage Spaniards had done their work
+well. The house itself was in flames, and burning fiercely. Good Don
+Annunzio lay dead, carbine in hand, on the steps of his ruined home.
+Beside him lay the Creole youth in whose charge Delmonte had left
+Manuela. The lad was still alive, for as Delmonte bent from the saddle
+above him he raised his head.
+
+"I did my best, my captain!" he said. "They were too many."
+
+"Where are they?" asked Delmonte and Montfort in one breath.
+
+The boy pointed down the road; raised his hand to salute, and fell back,
+dead.
+
+[Illustration: "NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE."]
+
+Now again it was a ride for life--not their own life this time. Rita had
+clean forgotten herself. The thought of her faithful friend and servant
+in the hands of the merciless Spaniards turned her quick blood to fire.
+She galloped steadily, her eyes fixed on the cloud of dust only a few
+hundred yards ahead of them, which told where the enemy was galloping,
+too.
+
+Jim Montfort glanced at her, and nodded to himself. "She'll do!" he said
+in his beard. "Montfort grit's good grit, and she's got it. This would
+be nuts to little Peggy."
+
+Jack Delmonte, too, looked more than once at the slender figure riding
+so lightly between him and the big rough rider. How beautiful she was!
+He had not realised half how beautiful till now. What nerve! what
+steadiness! It might be the _Reina de Cuba_, Donna Hernandez herself,
+riding to victory.
+
+He felt an unreasonable jealousy of "Cousin Jim." Half--nay! a quarter
+of an hour ago, she was riding with him; there were only they two in
+the world, they and Aquila, poor Aquila,--who had given his life for
+theirs. She was his comrade then, his charge, his--and now she was Miss
+Montfort, a young lady of fortune and position, under charge of her
+cousin, a Yankee captain of rough riders; and he, Jack Delmonte,
+was--nothing in particular.
+
+As he was thinking these thoughts, Rita chanced to turn her head, and
+met his gaze fixed earnestly upon her. She blushed suddenly and deeply,
+the lovely colour rising in a wave over cheeks and forehead; then turned
+her head sharply away.
+
+"Now I have offended her!" said Jack. "Idiot!" and perhaps he was not
+very wise.
+
+But there was little time for thinking or blushing. The Spaniards,
+seeing Delmonte, whom they regarded as the devil in person, descending
+upon them in company with a giant and an army (for so they described
+the band of rough riders at headquarters next day), abandoned their
+prisoners. The Americans chased them for a mile or so, killed three or
+four, and, as they reported, "scared the rest into Kingdom Come,"
+leaving them only on coming to a thick wood, into which the Gringos,
+leaping from their horses, vanished, and were seen no more. The victors
+then returned to the forlorn little group of women and negroes, huddled
+together by the roadside. Rita had already dismounted, and had Manuela
+in her arms. She felt her all over, hurrying question upon question.
+
+"My child, you are not hurt? not wounded? these ruffians--did they dare
+to touch you? did they have the audacity to speak to you, Manuela? Oh,
+why did I leave you? I could not help it; you saw I could not help it.
+You are _sure_ you have no hurt?"
+
+"But, positively, señorita," said Manuela. "See! not a scratch is on me.
+They--one fellow--offered to tie my hands; I scratched him so well that
+he ran away. I am safe, safe--praise be to all saints, to our Holy Lady,
+and the Señor Delmonte. But--poor Cerito, señorita? what of him? he was
+with us; he fought like a lion. I saw him fall--"
+
+"Poor Cerito!" said Rita, gravely. "He was a brave, brave lad. A
+thousand sons to Cuba like him!"
+
+Donna Prudencia was sitting apart on a stone by the roadside. Rita went
+up to her, took her hand, and kissed her cheek. The Yankee woman looked
+kindly at her and nodded comprehension, but did not speak. Rita stood
+silent for a few minutes, timidly stroking the brown cheek and white
+hair. Her cousin Margaret came into her mind. What would Margaret say,
+if she were here? She would know the right word, she always did.
+
+"Marm Prudence," she said, presently, "to have the memory of a hero, of
+one who dies for his country,--that is something, is it not? some
+little comfort?"
+
+Marm Prudence did not answer at once.
+
+"Mebbe so," she said, presently. "Mebbe so, Miss Margaritty. Noonzio was
+a good man. Yes'm, I've lost a good husband and a good home! A good
+husband and a good home!" she repeated. "That's all there is to it, I
+expect." Her rugged face was disturbed for a moment, and she hid it in
+her hands; when she looked up, she was her own composed self.
+
+"And what's the next thing?" she asked. "Thank you, Cap'n Delmonty, I'm
+feeling first-rate. Don't you fret about me. You done all you could.
+I'll never forget what you done. Poor husband's last words before he was
+shot was thanking the Lord Miss Margaritty was off safe. We knew we
+could trust her with you."
+
+"Indeed," said honest Delmonte, "it is not me you must thank, Donna
+Prudencia. I did what I could, but it was Captain Montfort and his men
+who saved both her life and mine."
+
+He told the story briefly, and Marm Prudence listened with interest.
+"Well," she said, "that was pretty close, wasn't it? Anyway, you done
+all you could, Cap'n Jack, and nobody can't do no more. And he's Miss
+Margaritty's cousin, you say? I want to know! He's big enough for three,
+ain't he?"
+
+Rita laughed, in spite of herself. She beckoned to Cousin Jim, who came
+up and shook hands with the widow with grave sympathy. But he seemed
+preoccupied, and, while they were preparing to return to the ruined
+farm, he was pulling his big beard and meditating with a puzzled air.
+
+"Look here!" he broke out at last, addressing his men. "I've been
+wondering what was wrong. I couldn't seem to round up, somehow, and now
+I've got it. Where's that poor old Johnny? I left him with you when I
+rode forward to reconnoitre."
+
+The rough riders looked at one another, and hung their heads.
+
+"Guess he must have dropped behind," said Raynham. "We didn't wait long
+after you signalled to us to come on. We--came."
+
+"That's so!" clamoured the rough riders, in sheepish chorus. "We came,
+Cap'n Jim. That's a fact!"
+
+"Well--that's all right!" said Jim. "You might have brought the old
+Johnny along, though, seems to me. Two of you ride back and get him;
+you, Bill, and Juckins. If he seems used up, Juckins can carry him, pony
+and all."
+
+Juckins, a huge Californian, second only to Montfort in stature,
+chuckled, and rode off with Raynham at a hand gallop.
+
+Montfort turned to Rita.
+
+"I haven't had time to tell you about it before," he said. "Cousin Rita,
+I've been hunting for you for three days. We met an old Johnny--an old
+gentleman, I should say--riding about on a pony, for all the world like
+Yankee Doodle. He'd got lost, poor old duffer, among these inferior
+crossroads, and didn't know whether he was in China or Oklahoma. We
+picked him up, and, riding along, it came out that he was searching for
+his ward, a young lady who had run away from a convent. Ever heard of
+such a person, missy? He had started out alone, to ride about Cuba till
+he found her. Kind of pocket Don Quixote, about five foot high, white
+hair, silk clothes; highly respectable Johnny."
+
+"Don Miguel!" cried Rita. "Poor, dear, good Don Miguel! I have never
+written to him, wicked that I am. Oh, where is he, Cousin Jim?"
+
+"Come to ask him," Jim continued, "it appeared that the young lady's
+name was Montfort. Now, I had just had a letter from Uncle John,
+wanting me to raise the island to get hold of you and ship you North at
+once. He had had no letters; was alarmed, you understand. Laid up with a
+bad knee, or would have come himself. I was just going to start back to
+the city in search of you, when up comes Don Quixote. When he heard I
+was your cousin, he fell into my arms, pony and all. Give you my word he
+did! Almost lost him in my waistcoat pocket. I cheered him up a bit, and
+we've been poking about together these three days, looking for General
+Sevillo's camp. Thought you might be there. We were camping by the
+roadside when we heard your firing. Ah! here he comes now!"
+
+The rough riders came back, their horses trotting now, instead of
+galloping. Between them, ambling gently along, was a piebald pony of
+amiable appearance, and on the pony sat a little old gentleman with
+snow-white hair and a face as mild and gentle as the pony's own. At
+sight of Rita running to meet him, he uttered a cry of joy, and checked
+his horse. Next moment he had dismounted, and had her in his arms,
+sobbing like a child.
+
+"Dear Donito Miguelito!" cried Rita. "Forgive me! please do forgive me,
+for frightening you. I could not go to the convent, indeed I could not.
+I am a wretch to have treated you so, but I could not go to that place."
+
+"Of course you could not, my child," said the good old man. "_Nunc
+dimittis_, Domine! Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. Of
+course you could not."
+
+"I could not live with Concepcion; don't you know I could not, Donito
+Miguelito?"
+
+"The thought is impossible, my Pearl. Speaking with all possible
+respect, the Señora Montfort, though high-born and accomplished, is a
+hysterical wildcat. You did well, my child; you did extremely well. So
+long as I have found you, nothing matters; but, nothing at all. As my
+great, my gigantic friend, my colossal preserver, el Capitan Gimmo,
+says, 'Ourrah for oz!'"
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted the rough riders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ANOTHER CAMP.
+
+
+They made but a brief halt at the ruined farm. The house was completely
+gutted; the widow of Don Annunzio had the clothes she stood in, and
+nothing beside. She stood quietly by while her husband's body was laid
+in the grave beside that of young Cerito; a shallow grave, hastily dug
+in what had lately been the garden. She listened with the same quiet
+face while good old Don Miguel, with faltering voice, recited a Latin
+prayer. She was a Methodist, he a fervent Catholic; but it mattered
+little at that moment.
+
+By this time it was daylight. A small patch of bananas was found, that
+had escaped the destroying torch, and on these the party made a hasty
+meal; then they rode away, all save the negroes, who preferred to stay
+in the neighbourhood where their lives had been spent.
+
+They rode slowly, in deference to Don Miguel's age and that of his pony.
+Rita, riding beside the good old man, listened to the recital of his
+terrors and anxieties from the time her flight was discovered to the
+present moment. These caused her real grief, and she begged again and
+again for the forgiveness which he assured her was wholly unnecessary.
+But when he described the hysterical rage of her stepmother, her eyes
+brightened, and the colour came back to her pale cheek. She had no doubt
+that Concepcion Montfort was sorry to lose her; the larger part of her
+father's fortune had been settled upon her, Rita, before his second
+marriage.
+
+"The señora also has made diligent search for you, my child!" said Don
+Miguel. "She has offered ample rewards--"
+
+"I know it!" said Rita. "Only yesterday--can it be that it was only
+yesterday?--Don Diego Moreno was here--there, I should say, at that
+peaceful home that is now a heap of ashes. These Spaniards!"
+
+Had she seen Don Diego? the old man asked; and he seemed relieved when
+she answered in the negative.
+
+"It is well; it is well!" he said. "He is a relative of the señora's, I
+am aware; but it would have been unsuitable, most unsuitable."
+
+"What would have been unsuitable, Donito Miguelito?"
+
+Don Miguel looked confused. "A--nothing, my child. The Señora Montfort
+had an idea--Don Diego made certain advances--in short, he would have
+asked for your hand, my señorita--well, my Margarita, if you will have
+it so. But I took it upon myself to refuse these overtures without
+consulting you."
+
+Rita heard a low exclamation, and turning, saw Delmonte's face like
+dark fire beside her.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I could not help hearing. Don Miguel, if
+Diego Moreno makes any more such proposals, kindly let me know, and I'll
+shoot him at sight."
+
+"I--thank you! thank you, my son!" said Don Miguel, somewhat fluttered.
+"I hope no violence will be necessary. I used strong language, very
+strong language, to Don Diego Moreno. I--I told him that I considered
+him a person entirely objectionable, unfit to sweep the road before the
+Señorita Montfort's feet. He went away very angry. I thought we should
+hear no more of him; but it seems that he still retains his presumptuous
+idea. Without doubt, it will be best, my dear child, for you to seek the
+northern home of your family without delay."
+
+Why, at this obviously sensible remark, should Rita feel a sinking at
+the heart, and a sudden anger against her dear old friend? And again,
+why, on stealing a glance at Delmonte, and seeing the trouble reflected
+in his face, should her heart as suddenly spring up again, and dance
+within her? What had happened?
+
+They had ridden some miles, when Jim Montfort, on his big gray horse,
+ranged alongside of Delmonte.
+
+"It appears to me," he said, "that something is going on in these woods
+here. I've seen two or three bits of brown that weren't bark, and if I
+didn't catch the shine of a gun-barrel just now, you may call me a
+Dutchman. I think I'll fire, and see what happens."
+
+"No, don't do that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "It's only my fellows.
+They've been keeping alongside for the last half-mile, waiting for a
+signal. They might as well come out now."
+
+He gave a low call in two notes; the call Rita had heard--was it only
+the night before? it seemed as if a week had passed since then.
+
+The call was answered from the wood; and as if by magic, from every
+tree, from every clump of bushes, came stealing lean brown figures,
+leading equally lean horses, all armed and on the alert. They saluted,
+and, at a word from the burly Juan, fell into order with the precision
+of a troop on drill.
+
+"What's all this, Juan?" asked Delmonte. "No order was given."
+
+Juan replied with submission that a negro boy had brought news an hour
+ago that Don Annunzio's house had been burned, he and his whole
+household murdered, and their captain taken prisoner; and that the
+latter was being brought in irons along the road to Santiago. They, Juan
+and the rest, had planned a rescue, and disposed themselves to that end
+in the most advantageous manner. That they were about to fire, when they
+recognised their captain's escort as Americans; and that they then
+resolved to accompany the party as quietly as might be till they came
+near the camp, and then make their presence known to all, as they had at
+once made it known to Delmonte himself by a low call which only he had
+noticed.
+
+"Not wishing to intrude," Juan concluded, with a superb salute.
+
+Delmonte turned to his companions. "Miss Montfort," he said, "Captain
+Montfort--you'll all come up to my place, of course, and rest, for
+to-day, at least. It isn't much of a place to ask you to, but--it's
+quiet, at least, and--you can rest; and you must be half-starved. I know
+I am."
+
+His face was eager as a boy's. Rita's was not less so, as she gazed at
+the big cousin, who stroked his beard as usual, and reflected.
+
+"I did mean to push straight on to Santiago," he said, "but--it's a good
+bit of a way, to be sure; what do you say, little cousin? tired? hey?"
+
+Rita blushed. "A--a little tired, Cousin Jim; and _very_ hungry!"
+
+This settled it. Captain Montfort bid Delmonte "fire away." The latter
+said a few rapid words to Juan, and the scout shot off like an arrow
+across the fields, riding as if for his life.
+
+An hour later, the whole party was seated around a fire, in as
+comfortable a nook of the hills as guerilla leader could desire, sipping
+coffee, and eating broiled chicken and fried bananas, fresh from the
+_parilla_. The fire was built against a great rock that rose abruptly
+from the dell, forming one side of it, and towering so high that the
+smoke disappeared before it reached the top. Thick woods framed the
+other sides of the natural fastness, and here the Cuban riders could lie
+hidden for days and weeks, unsuspected, unseen, save by the wandering
+birds that now and then circled above their heads. No tents or huts
+here; the horses were tethered to trees; the commander's hammock was
+swung in a shady thicket near the great rock; as for his men, a ragged
+blanket and the "soft side of a stone" were all they asked.
+
+Rita had dressed Captain Delmonte's wound, and bandaged the arm in
+approved style, Cousin Jim looking on with grunts of approval. He and
+Delmonte himself both assured her that, if they were handling it, they
+should simply squirt carbolic acid into it, and tie it up with anything
+that came handy; but Rita shook her head gravely, and three of her
+delicate handkerchiefs, brought from the long-suffering bag which
+Manuela had somehow managed to save from the ruins, torn into strips,
+made a very sufficient bandage. The wound was, in truth, slight.
+Delmonte looked almost as if he wished it more severe, for the whole
+matter of bathing and dressing could not be stretched beyond ten
+minutes; but Rita's pride in her neat bandage was pretty to see, and he
+watched her with delighted eyes through every stage.
+
+"Snug quarters!" said Jim Montfort, approvingly, as, the breakfast over,
+he stretched his huge length along the grass and looked about him; and
+all the party echoed his opinion. The two captains fell into talk of the
+war and its ways, while the women, wearied out, rested after their long
+night of distress and fatigue. Marm Prudence chose the dry grass, with a
+cloak for a pillow, but Rita curled herself thankfully in Captain Jack's
+hammock, after trying in vain to persuade him that he was an invalid,
+and ought to take it himself. After some rummaging in a hole in the rock
+which served him for cupboard and wardrobe, Delmonte brought her a small
+pillow in a somewhat weather-beaten cover. "I wish I had a better one,"
+he said. "This has been out in the rain a good deal, and I'm afraid it
+smells of smoke, but it's a great pillow for sleeping on."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Rita. "It is very comfortable indeed. How good you
+are to me, Captain Delmonte. And whatever you may say, it is a great
+shame for me to take your own hammock. If there were only another--"
+
+"Oh, please don't!" said Jack. "It's really--you must not talk so, Miss
+Montfort. As if there was anything I wouldn't do--why, this hammock will
+never be the same again. I--I mean--oh, you know what I mean, and I
+never could make pretty speeches. But--it is a pleasure, and--an honour,
+to have you here; and you can't think how much it means to me. Good
+night! I mean--sleep well."
+
+He added a few words of a German song relative to the desirability of a
+certain lovely angel's slumbering sweetly. Rita did not understand
+German, but the tone of Delmonte's voice was in no particular language,
+and, tired as she was, it was some time before she went to sleep.
+
+It was late afternoon when they took the road again. Before starting
+they held a council, seated together beneath the great tree, under whose
+shade Rita had slept peacefully for several hours. Jim Montfort was the
+first speaker.
+
+"I take it," he said, "we'd better, each one of us, say what we mean to
+do. Then the sky will be clear, and we can fit in or shake apart, as
+seems best in each case. We all ride together to Pine del Rio, as
+Captain Delmonte is so friendly as to ride with us. After that--I'll
+begin with you, ma'am." He addressed, the widow respectfully. "How can I
+best serve you? I am going to see my cousin safe off, and you must call
+upon me for any service I can possibly render you."
+
+"She will stay with me!" cried Rita. "Dear Marm Prudence, you will stay
+with me, will you not?"
+
+Marm Prudence shook her head, though with a look of infinite kindliness.
+"Thank you, dear," she said; "it's like you to say it, but I'm going
+home to Greenvale, Vermont. I've a sister living there yet. I'll go back
+to my own folks at last, and lay my bones alongside o' mother's. I'll
+never forgit you, though, Miss Margaritty," she added, "nor you, Cap'n
+Jack. There! I can't say much yet."
+
+She turned away, and all were silent for a moment, as she wiped the
+tears from her rugged face.
+
+"You go straight home, I suppose, sir?" said Jim, addressing Don Miguel.
+
+"Yes, yes!" cried the little gentleman. "I go to Pine del Rio with my
+dear ward here. To see her safe on board a good vessel, bound for the
+North; to say farewell to the joy of my old days, and put out the light
+of my eyes--that is my one sad desire, Señor Montfort. After that--I am
+old, I have but a short time left, and my prayers will require that."
+
+"Well, then, it seems as if the first thing on all hands was to find a
+steamer sailing for home," said Jim. "If Mrs. Annunzio will take charge
+of you, Cousin Rita, I think that will be the best thing. Uncle John
+will send some one to meet you in New York and take you to Fernley. How
+does that suit you?"
+
+Rita was silent. She had grown very pale. Delmonte looked at her
+eagerly, but did not speak.
+
+"What do you say, little cousin?" repeated Montfort. "You have a mind of
+your own, and a pretty decided one, if I'm not mistaken. Let's hear it!"
+
+Rita spoke slowly and with difficulty, her ready flow of speech lacking
+for once.
+
+"Cousin Jim--dear Don Miguel--you are both so kind, so good. You too,
+Marm Prudence. I love the North. I love my dear uncle and cousin--ah,
+how dearly!--but--I do not want to go to Fernley."
+
+"Not want to go!" repeated the others.
+
+"No! indeed, indeed, I cannot go. I have been thinking, Cousin Jim, a
+great deal, while all these things have been happening; these wonderful,
+terrible things. I--I ought to have learned a great deal; I hope I have
+learned a little. I have talked enough about helping my country; too
+much I have talked; now I want to do something. I am going to work in
+one of the hospitals. Nurses are needed, I know, every day more of them.
+I do not know enough--yet--to be a nurse, but I can be a helper. I am
+very humble; I will do the meanest work, but--but that is what I mean to
+do."
+
+She ceased, and all the others, looking in her face, saw it bright and
+lovely with earnest resolve. But Don Miguel cried out in expostulation.
+It was impossible, he said. It could not be. She was too young, too
+delicate, too--the proposition was monstrous. He appealed to Captain
+Montfort to support him, to exercise his authority, to persuade this
+dear child that the noble idea which filled her young and ardent heart
+was wholly impracticable.
+
+Jim Montfort was silent for a time, looking at Rita from under his heavy
+eyebrows. Presently--"You mean it?" he said.
+
+"I mean it with all my heart!" said Rita.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "my opinion is--considering my sister Peggy and her
+views, to say nothing of Jean and Flora--my opinion is, Rita--hurrah for
+you!"
+
+A month ago, Rita would have gone into violent heroics at such a moment
+as this. As it was, she smiled, though her eyes filled with tears, and
+said, quietly, "Thank you, cousin! It is what I expected from Peggy's
+brother."
+
+"May I speak?" said another voice. They turned, and saw Jack Delmonte,
+his blue eyes alight with eager gladness.
+
+"If--if Miss Montfort has this noble desire to help in the good cause,"
+he said, "it is easy for her to do it. My mother has turned her
+_residencia_, just outside the city, into a hospital. I am going there
+to-day. She needs more help, I know. You--you would like my mother, Miss
+Montfort; everybody likes my mother. She would do all she could to make
+it easy for you, and she would be so glad--oh, I can't tell you how glad
+she would be. And I think you are quite certain to like her."
+
+"Ah!" said Rita. "Have I not heard of the Saint of Las Rosas? There is
+no need to tell me how good and how noble the Señora Delmonte is.
+But--but will she like me, Captain--Captain Jack?"
+
+"Will she?" said Jack. "Will the sun shine?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.
+
+
+                                            LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+DEAR UNCLE JOHN:--Since I last wrote you, telling of our finding Rita,
+and of her safe delivery to Señora Delmonte, things have been happening.
+In the first place, I got a shot in my leg, in a skirmish, and, as the
+bone was broken, and it didn't seem to come round as it ought, I came
+here to be coddled, and am having a great time of it. Señora Delmonte is
+a fine woman, sir. You don't see many such women in a lifetime. She has
+a little hospital here, as complete as if she had New York City in her
+back dooryard; all her own place, you understand. Kind of Florence
+Nightingale woman. What's more, little Rita promises to become her
+right hand; if she's given a chance, that is--I'll come to that by and
+by, though. The way that little girl takes hold, sir, is a caution.
+She's quick, and she's quiet, and she's cheerful; and she has brains in
+her head, which is a mighty good thing in a woman when you do find it.
+She and Señora Delmonte are like mother and daughter already; and this
+brings me to something else I want to say. It's pretty clear that Jack
+Delmonte has lost his heart to this little girl of ours. It began, I
+suspect, the night he carried her off from the Spaniards; you have heard
+all about that; and it's been going on here, while a little flesh wound
+he had was healing. Yes, sir, he's in it deep, and no mistake; and, for
+that matter, I guess she is, too, though those things aren't in my line.
+Anyhow, what I want to say is this: Jack Delmonte is as fine a fellow as
+there is this side of the Rockies; and I don't know that I'll stop
+there, barring my brother Hugh. This war isn't going to last much
+longer. By some kind of miracle, this place--sugar plantation, and well
+paying in good times--hasn't been meddled with; and Jack ought to be
+able to support a wife, if he puts good work into the business, as he
+will. He's a first-rate all-round fellow, and has brains in his
+head--said that before, didn't I? well, it's a good thing in a man, too.
+I'm not much of a hand at writing, as I guess you'll see. All I mean to
+say is, if he and little Rita want to hitch up a double team, my opinion
+is it would be a mighty good thing, and I hope you'll give them your
+blessing and all that sort of thing, when the time comes.
+
+Much obliged for your letter, but sorry your knee still bothers you.
+Father has been laid up, too, so he writes; rheumatism. I'm getting on
+first-rate, and shall be out of this soon. I think a month or so more
+will see the whole blooming business over, and peace declared. Time,
+too! this is no kind of a country to stay in.
+
+                                   Your affectionate nephew,
+                                                   JAMES MONTFORT.
+
+P.S. Tell Cousin Margaret that J. D. is _all right_.
+
+                                           LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+MY DEAR MR. MONTFORT:--I wonder if you remember Mary Russell, with whom
+you used to dance now and then when you came to Claxton in the old days,
+we will not say how many years ago. I certainly have not forgotten the
+pleasant partner who waltzed so well, and I am glad to have the
+opportunity of claiming acquaintance with you. I meant to write as soon
+as your niece arrived at my house, but the battle in this neighbourhood
+the day after brought us such an influx of wounded that my hands were
+very full, and the hasty dictated line was all I could manage. We are
+now in a little eddy of the storm (which, we hope, is nearly over), and
+have only a dozen men in the house, and most of these convalescent;
+so I must not delay longer in assuring you of the very great pleasure
+and help it has been to me to have Margarita with me. Indeed, I hardly
+know what I should have done without her the first week, as two of my
+nurses were ill just at the time when we were fullest. She shows a
+remarkable aptitude for nursing, which is rather singular, as she tells
+me that until lately she has been extremely timid about such matters,
+fainting at the sight of blood, etc. You never would think it now, to
+see her going about her work in the wards. The patients idolise her, and
+what is more (and less common), so do the nurses, who declare that she
+will miss her vocation if she does not go into a training-school as soon
+as she leaves Las Rosas; but I fancy you would not choose so arduous a
+life for her.
+
+[Illustration: "THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER."]
+
+This brings me, my dear Mr. Montfort, to what is really the chief object
+in my writing to you to-day. Without beating about the bush, I am going
+to say, at once and frankly, that my dear son, Jack, has become deeply
+attached to this charming niece of yours. Who could be surprised at it?
+she must always have been charming; but the sweetness and thoughtfulness
+that I have seen growing day by day while she has been under my charge
+are, I somehow fancy, a new phase of her development. Indeed, Rita
+herself has told me, in her vivid way, of some of the wild pranks of her
+"unguided youth," as she calls it,--the child will be nineteen, I
+believe, on her next birthday!--and we have laughed and shaken our heads
+together over them. She is far more severe upon herself than I can be,
+for I see the quick, impulsive nature, and see, too, how it is being
+subdued and brought more and more under control by a strong will and a
+good heart. A very noble woman our Rita will make, if she has the right
+surroundings.
+
+Can we give her these? that is the question; a question for you to
+answer, dear Mr. Montfort. Jack saw readily, when I pointed it out to
+him, that it would not be suitable for him to speak of love to an orphan
+girl--an heiress, too, I believe--without her guardian's express
+consent. He chafes at the delay, for he is very ardent, being half
+Cuban; but you may have entire confidence that he will say nothing to
+Rita until I hear from you.
+
+You can easily find out about Jack; there is nothing in his life that he
+need conceal. Colonel G. and Mrs. B----, in New York, Professor Searcher
+and Doctor Lynx, of Blank College, will tell you of his school and
+college days; and Captain Montfort will, I think, say a good word for
+his record as a soldier and a patriot. Of course, in my eyes, he is a
+little bit of a hero; but maternal prejudice laid aside (if such a thing
+may be!), I can truly say that he is a clean, honest, high-minded man,
+with a sound constitution and an excellent disposition. Add to this a
+moderate income (not, I am happy to say, enough to allow him to dispense
+with work, were he inclined to do so, which he is not), and a very
+earnest and devoted attachment, and you have the whole case before you.
+May I hope to have your answer as soon as you shall have satisfied
+yourself on the various points on which you will naturally seek
+information? I assure you that, with the best intentions in the world,
+Jack does find it hard to restrain himself. Let me add that, if your
+answer is favourable, it will make me as well as my son very happy. Rita
+is all that I could wish for in a daughter; and I shall try my best to
+fill a mother's place toward her.
+
+In any case, believe me, dear Mr. Montfort,
+
+                                          Cordially yours,
+                                             MARY RUSSELL DELMONTE.
+
+P.S. You may ask, does Rita return Jack's affection? _I think she
+does!_
+
+
+                                             SANTIAGO, June --, 1898.
+
+HONOURED SEÑOR:--Your valued letter, containing inquiries on the subject
+of Señor Captain John Delmonte is at hand and contents notified. I
+hasten to reply with all the ardour of which I am capacious. This young
+man is a nobleman; few princes have equalled him in virtuous worth.
+Brave, honourable, pious (though Protestant; but this belief is probably
+your own, and is held by many of those most valuable to me, your
+honoured brother among them), a faithful and obedient son, a leader
+beloved to rapture by his soldiers. If more could be to say, I would
+hasten to cry it aloud. You tell me, with noble frankness, he is a
+pretender for the hand of my beloved Margarita; already it has been my
+happiness to be aware of it. Señor Montfort, to see these two admirable
+young persons united in the holy bondages of weddinglock is the last and
+chief wish of my life. I earnestly beg your sanction of their unition.
+In Jack I find a son for my solitary age; in Margarita a daughter, the
+most tender as she is the most beautiful that the world contains. To
+close my aged eyes on seeing them unified, is, I repeat it, the one wish
+of,
+
+                      Honoured Señor,
+                 Your most obedient and humble servitor,
+                                                    MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+                                           LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+MY DEAR MR. MONFORT:--I have just read your letter to my mother, and I
+want to thank you before I do anything else. There isn't much to say,
+except that I will do my best to be in some degree worthy of this
+treasure, if I win it. I will try to make her happy, sir, I will indeed.
+No one could be good enough for her, so I will not pretend to that.
+
+She is awake now, so I must go.
+
+                                           Gratefully yours,
+                                                       JOHN DELMONTE.
+
+
+                                                 LAS ROSAS, Evening.
+
+DEAREST, DEAREST MARGARET:--Why are you not here? I want you--oh, I want
+you so much! I am so happy, so wonderfully, almost _terribly_ happy, how
+can I put it on paper? The paper will light itself, will burn up for
+joy, I think; but I will try. Listen! an hour ago--it is an evening of
+heaven, the moon was shining for me, for me and--oh, but wait! I was in
+the garden, resting after the day's work; I had been asleep, and now
+would take the remainder of my free time in waking rest. The air was
+balm, the roses all in blossom. Such roses were never seen, Marguerite;
+the place is named for them, Las Rosas. They are in bowers, in garlands,
+in heaps and mounds--I smell them now. The rose is my flower, remember
+that, my life long. I used to tell you it was the jessamine; the
+jessamine is a simpleton, I tell you. I was picking white roses, the
+kind that blushes a little warm at its heart--when I heard some one
+coming. I knew who it was; can I tell how? It was Captain Jack. I
+trembled. He came to me, he spoke, he took my hand. Oh, my dear, my
+dear, I cannot tell you what he said; but he loves me; he is my Jack, I
+am his Rita. Marguerite, will you tell me how it can be true? Your wild,
+silly, foolish Rita, playing at emotions all her childish life: she
+wakes up, she begins to try to be a little like you, my best one; and
+all of a sudden she finds herself in Paradise, with a warrior
+angel--Marguerite, I did not think of it till this moment; my Jack is
+the express image of St. Michael. His nose tips up the least bit in the
+world--I don't mind it; it gives life, dash, to his wonderful face;
+otherwise there is _no_ difference. My St. Michael! my soldier, my Star
+of Horsemen! Marguerite, no girl was ever so happy since the world was
+made. Oh, don't think me fickle; let me tell you! In the South here, are
+we different? It must be so. I _was_ fond of Santayana; but that was in
+another life. I was a sentimental, passionate child; he was handsome as
+a picture; it was a dream of seventeen. Now--can you believe that I am a
+little grown up? I really think I am. Perhaps I think it most because
+now, for the first time, I _really_ want to be like you, Marguerite. I
+used to be so pleased with being myself--I was the vainest creature that
+ever lived. Now, I want to be like you instead; I want to be a good
+woman, a good wife. Ah! what a wife you will make if you marry! But how
+can you marry, my poor darling? There is only one man in the world good
+enough for you, and he is mine. I cannot give him up, even to you, my
+saint. I have two saints now; I ought to be a Catholic. The second one
+is his mother, the Saint of Las Rosas, as she is called all through this
+part of the island. Marguerite, I must strive to grow like her, too, if
+such a thing were possible. I have work enough for my life, but what
+blessed work! to try to make myself worthy of Jack Delmonte, my Jack, my
+own!
+
+He took me to his mother; I have just come from her. I am her daughter
+from that moment, she says; oh, Marguerite, I will try to be a good one.
+Hear me--no! I am not going to make vows any more, or talk like girls in
+novels; I am just going to try. I loved her from the first moment I saw
+her grave, beautiful face. She took me in her arms, my dear; she said
+things--I have come up here to weep alone, tears of happiness. Dearest,
+you alone knew thoroughly the old Rita, the foolish creature, who dies,
+in a way, to-night. Say good-bye to her; give her a kiss, Marguerite,
+for she too loved you; but not half as dearly as does the new, happy,
+blessed
+
+                                      MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Page 12, "authoritaties" changed to "authorities" (by the authorities)
+
+Page 25, word "by" inserted into text (takes me by)
+
+Page 74, "senorita" changed to "señorita" (patriotism of the señorita)
+
+Page 129, "senorita" changed to "señorita" (would befit the señorita)
+
+Page 148, word "be" inserted into text (there'd have to be)
+
+Page 213, "gentlemen" changed to "gentleman" (little old gentleman)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Rita
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2008 [EBook #24827]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RITA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 276px;">
+<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="276" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='bbox'>
+<div class='bbox2'>
+<h2>BOOKS FOR GIRLS<br />
+By Laura E. Richards</h2>
+</div><div class='bbox2'>
+<h3><i>The</i> MARGARET SERIES</h3>
+<div class='unindent'>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Three Margarets</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Margaret Montfort</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Peggy</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Rita</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Fernley House</span><br />
+<br /></div></div><div class='bbox2'>
+<h3>
+<i>The</i> HILDEGARDE SERIES</h3>
+<div class='unindent'>
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Queen Hildegarde</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Hildegarde's Holiday</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Hildegarde's Home</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Hildegarde's Neighbors</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Hildegarde's Harvest</span><br />
+</div></div><div class='bbox2'>
+<div class='center'>
+DANA ESTES &amp; COMPANY<br />
+Publishers<br />
+Estes Press, Summer St., Boston<br />
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a>
+<img src="images/gs01.png" width="266" height="400" alt="&quot;RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED.&quot;" title="&quot;RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>RITA</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2>
+
+<div class='center'><small>AUTHOR OF</small><br />
+<small>"PEGGY," "MARGARET MONTFORT," "THREE</small><br />
+<small>MARGARETS," ETC.</small><br />
+<br />
+<b>Illustrated by</b><br />
+ETHELDRED B. BARRY<br />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 165px;">
+<img src="images/emblem.png" width="165" height="200" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" />
+</div>
+
+<div class='center'>
+BOSTON<br />
+<big>DANA ESTES &amp; COMPANY</big><br />
+PUBLISHERS<br />
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class='center'>
+<small><i>Copyright, 1900</i></small><br />
+<span class="smcap"><small>By Dana Estes &amp; Company</small></span><br />
+<br />
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+<small>Colonial Press</small><br />
+<small>Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.</small><br />
+<small>Boston, Mass., U.S.A.</small><br />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+
+
+<div>
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;">TO</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">FIVE GIRLS I KNOW</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 12em;">IN THE TOWN OF SAINT JO</span><br />
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="blockquot"><p>If this story should seem extravagant to any of
+my readers, I can only refer them to some one of
+the many published accounts of the Spanish-American
+War. They will find that many delicate and
+tenderly nurtured girls were forced to endure
+dangers and privations compared to which Rita's
+adventures seem like child's play.</p><div class='right'>
+L. E. R.<br />
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents and Book Spine">
+<tr><td align='left'><img src="images/spine01.png" width="106" height="400" alt="Spine" title="Spine" />
+</td><td align='left'><div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="contents">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='left'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Threatening Weather</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Storm Bursts</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">On the Way</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Camp among the Hills</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">To Margaret</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In the Night</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Camp Scene</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Pacificos</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In Hiding</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>X.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Manuela's Opportunity</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Captain Jack</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_176">176</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">For Life</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Meetings and Greetings</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Another Camp</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV.</td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Foregone Conclusion</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations">
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Rita Montfort drew her dagger and waited</span>"</td><td align='left'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">In the Garden</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The famished child looked from the biscuit to the glowing face</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">'Hush!' said the young girl. 'Sit still'</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">'Was such a hat ever seen in Paris?'</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">'I throw open the door and step back, my heart in my mouth'</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Now again it was a ride for life</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">The patients idolise her</span>"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>RITA.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+<h3>THREATENING WEATHER.</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>
+<span class="smcap">To Se&ntilde;or</span>,<br /></div>
+<div class='right'>
+<i>Se&ntilde;or the illustrious Don John Montfort.</i><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Honoured Se&ntilde;or and Brother:</i>&mdash;There are
+several months that I wrote to inform you of
+the deeply deplored death of my lamented
+husband, Se&ntilde;or Don Richard Montfort. Your
+letter of condolation and advice was balm
+poured upon my bleeding wounds, received
+before yesterday at the hands of my banker,
+Don Miguel Pietoso. You are the brother of
+my adored husband, your words are as if
+spoken from his casket. You tell me, stay
+at home, remain in quietness, till these alarms<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+of war are over. Alas! respectable se&ntilde;or,
+to accomplish this? Havana is since the
+shocking affair of the <i>Maine</i> in uproar; on
+each side are threats, are cries, "Death to
+the Americanos!" My bewept angel, Don
+Richard, was in his heart Spanish, by birth
+American; I see brows black upon me&mdash;me,
+a Castilian!&mdash;when I go from my house.
+Already they speak of to burn the houses
+of wealthy Americans, to drive forth those
+dwelling in.</p>
+
+<p>Again, se&ntilde;or, my daughter, your niece
+Margarita&mdash;what to do, I ask you, of this
+young person? She is Cuban, she is fanatic,
+she is impossible. I apply myself to instruct
+her as her station and fortune demand, as
+befits a Spanish lady of rank; she insubordinates
+me, she makes mockery of my position
+as head of her house. She teach her parrot
+to cry "Viva Cuba Libre!" She play at
+open windows her guitar, songs of Cuban
+rebels, forbidden by the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'authoritaties'">authorities</ins>. I exert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+my power, I exhort, I command,&mdash;she laughs
+me at the nose, and sings more loud. I attend
+that in few days we are all the two in
+prison. What to do? you already know that
+her betrothed, Se&ntilde;or Santillo de Santayana,
+is dead a year ago of a calenture. Her
+grief was excessive; she intended to die,
+and made preparation costing large sums of
+money for her obsequies. She forget all now,
+she says, for her country. In this alarming
+time, the freedom her father permitted her
+(his extreme philanthropy overcoming his
+judgmatism) becomes impossible. I implore
+you, highly honoured se&ntilde;or and brother, to
+write your commands to this unhappy child,
+that she submit herself to me, her guardian
+in nature, until you can assert your legal
+potencies. I intend shortly to make retreat
+in the holy convent of the White Sisters, few
+miles from here. Rita accompanionates me,
+and I trust there to change the spirit of
+rebellion so shocking in a young person<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+unmarried, into the soul docile and sheep-like
+as becomes a highly native Spanish maiden.
+The Sisters are of justice celebrated for their
+pious austerities and the firmness of their
+rule. Rita will remain with them until peace
+is assured, or until your emissaries apport
+distinct advice.</p>
+
+<p>For me, your kind and gracious inquiries
+would have watered my heart were it not
+already blasted. Desolation must attend my
+remaining years; but through them all I shall
+be, dear se&ntilde;or and brother, your most grateful
+and in affliction devoted sister and servant,</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Maria Concepcion de Naragua Montfort</span>.<br /></div>
+<div><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Havana, April 30, 1898.</i></span><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dearest, dearest Uncle</span>:&mdash;My stepmother
+says she has written to you concerning
+me. I implore you, as you loved your
+brother, my sainted father, to believe no
+single word she says. This woman is of a
+duplicity, a falseness, impossible for your lofty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+soul to comprehend. It needs a Cuban, my
+uncle, to understand a Spaniard. She wants
+to take me to the convent, to those terrible
+White Sisters, who will shave my head and
+lacerate my flesh with heated scourges,&mdash;Manuela
+has told me about them; scourges
+of iron chains knotted and made hot,&mdash;me,
+a Protestant, daughter of a free American.
+Uncle John, it is my corpse alone that she
+will carry there, understand that! Never will
+I go alive. I have daggers; here on my wall
+are many of them, beautifully arranged; I
+polish them daily, it is my one mournful
+pleasure; they are sharp as lightning, and
+their lustre dazzles the eye. I have poison
+also; a drop, and the daughter of your
+brother is white and cold at the feet of her
+murderess. Enough! she will be avenged.
+Carlos Montfort lives; and you, too, I know
+it, I feel it, would spring, would leap across
+the sea to avenge your Rita, who fondly loves
+you. Hear me swear, my uncle, on my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+knees; never, never will I go alive to that
+place of death, the convent. (I pray you to
+pardon this blot; I spilt the ink, kneeling in
+passion; what would you have?)</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your unhappy</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Rita</span>.<br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Beloved Marguerite:</span>&mdash;I have written
+to our dear and honoured uncle of the perils
+which surround me. My life, my reason, are
+at stake. It may be that I have but a few
+weeks more to live. Every day, therefore,
+dearest, let me pour out my soul to you, now
+my one comfort on earth, since my heart was
+laid in the grave of my Santayana.</p>
+
+<p>It is night; all the house is wrapped in
+slumber; I alone wake and weep. I seldom
+sleep now, save by fitful snatches. I sit as
+at this moment, by my little table, my taper
+illuminated, in my peignoir (you would be
+pleased with my peignoir, my poor Marguerite!
+it is white <i>mousseline d'Inde</i>, flowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+very full from the shoulders, falling in
+veritable clouds about me, with deep ruffles
+of Valenciennes and bands of insertion; the
+ribbons white, of course; maidens should
+mourn in white, is it not so, Marguerite? no
+colour has approached me since my bereavement;
+fortunately black and white are both
+becoming to me, while that other, Concepcion,
+looks like a sick orange in either. Even the
+flowers in my room are solely white.)</p>
+
+<p>It seems a thousand years since I heard
+from you, my cool snow-pearl of cousins.
+Write more often to your Rita, she implores
+you. I pine for news of you, of Uncle John,
+of all at dear, dear Fernley. Alas! how
+young I was there! a simple child, sporting
+among the Northern daisies. Now, in the
+whirlwind of my passionate existence, I look
+back to that peaceful summer. For you, Marguerite,
+the green oasis, the palm-trees, the
+crystal spring; for me, the sand storm and
+the fiery death. No matter! I live and die a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+daughter of Cuba, the gold star on my brow,
+the three colours painted on my heart. Good
+night, beloved! I kiss the happy paper that
+goes to you. Till to-morrow, and while I
+live,</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Rita</span>.<br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Havana</span>, May 1, 1898.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Not until afternoon goes the mail steamer,
+Marguerite, only pearl of my heart. I wrote
+you a few burning words last night; then I
+flung myself on my bed, hoping to lose my
+sorrows for a few minutes in sleep. I slept,
+a thing hardly known to me at present; it
+was the sleep of exhaustion, Marguerite.
+When I woke, Manuela was putting back
+the curtains to let in the light of dawn. It
+is still early morning, fresh and dewy, and I
+am here in the garden. At no time of the
+day is the garden more beautiful than now,
+in the purity of the day's birth. I have described
+it to you at night, with the <i>cocuyos</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+gleaming like lamps in the green dusk of the
+orange-trees, or the moonlight striking the
+world to silver. I wish you could see it now&mdash;this
+garden of my soul, so soon, it may be,
+to be destroyed by ruthless hands of savage
+Spaniards. The palms stand like stately pillars;
+till the green plumes wave in the morning
+breeze, one fancies a temple or cathedral,
+with aisles of crowned verdure. Behind these
+stand the banana-trees, rows and rows, with
+clusters hanging thick, crimson and gold.
+Would Peggy be happy here, do you think?
+Poor little Peggy! How often I long to cut
+down a tree, to send her whole bunches of
+the fruit she delights in. The mangoes, too!
+I used to think I could not live without mangoes.
+When I went to you, it appeared that
+I must die without my fruits; now their rich
+pulp dries untasted by my lips: what have I
+to do with food, save the bare necessary to
+support what life remains? I am waiting
+now for my coffee; at this moment Manuela<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+brings it, with the grape-fruit and rolls, and
+places it here on the table of green marble,
+close by the fountain where I sit. The fountain
+soothes my suffering heart, as it tinkles
+in the broad basin of green marble. Nature,
+Marguerite, speaks to the heart of despair.
+You have not known despair, my best one;
+may it be long, long before you do. Among
+her other vices, this woman, Concepcion, would
+like to starve me, in my own house. She
+counts the rolls, she knows how many lumps
+of sugar I put in my coffee; an hour will
+dawn&mdash;I say no more! I am patient, Marguerite,
+I am forbearing, a statue, marble
+in the midst of fire; but beyond a certain
+point I will not endure persecution, and I say
+to you, let Concepcion Montfort, the widow
+of my sainted father, beware!</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 294px;">
+<img src="images/gs02.png" width="294" height="400" alt="IN THE GARDEN." title="IN THE GARDEN." />
+<span class="caption">IN THE GARDEN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Adios, my Magnolia Flower! I must feed
+my birds. Already they are awake and calling
+the mistress they love. They hang&mdash;I
+have told you&mdash;in large airy cages, all round<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+under the eaves of the summer-house beside
+the fountain. They are beautiful, Margaret,
+the Java sparrows, the little love-birds, the
+splendid macaw, the paroquets, and mocking-birds;
+but king among them all is Chiquito,
+our parrot, Marguerite, yours and mine, the
+one link here that binds me to my Northern
+home; for I may call Fernley my home,
+Uncle John has said it; the lonely orphan
+can think of one spot where tender hearts
+beat for her, not passionately, but with steadfast
+pulses. Chico is in superb health; he is&mdash;I
+tell you every time&mdash;a revelation in the
+animal kingdom. More than this, he is a
+bird of heart; he feels for me, feels intensely,
+in this dark time. Only yesterday he bit old
+Julio severely; I am persuaded it was his
+love for me that prompted the act. Julio is
+a Spaniard of the Spaniards, the slave of
+Concepcion. He attempted to cajole my
+Chico, he offered him sugar. To-day he
+goes with his arm in a sling, and curses the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+Cuban bird, with threats against his life.
+Never mind, Marguerite! a time will soon
+come&mdash;I can say no more. I am dumb; the
+grave is less silent; but do you think your
+Rita will submit eternally to tyranny and
+despotism? No, you know she will not, it is
+not her nature. You look, my best one, for
+some outbreak of my passionate nature, you
+attend that the volcano spring some sudden
+hour into flame, overwhelming all in its path.
+You are right, heart of my heart. You shall
+not be disappointed. Rita will prove herself
+worthy of your love. How? hush! ask not,
+dream not! trust me and be silent.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Margarita de San Real Montfort</span>.<br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE STORM BURSTS.</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Greatly honoured Sir</span>:&mdash;I permit myself
+the privilege of addressing your Excellency,
+my name being known to you as man
+of business of late your admired brother,
+Se&ntilde;or Don Ricardo Montfort. I find myself,
+se&ntilde;or, in a position of great hardness between
+the two admirable ladies, Se&ntilde;ora Montfort,
+widow of Don Ricardo, and his beautiful
+daughter, the Se&ntilde;orita Margarita. These
+ladies, admirable, as I have said, in beauty,
+character, and abilities, find it, nevertheless,
+impossible to live in harmony. As man of
+affairs, I am present at painful scenes, which
+wring the heart. Each cries to me to save
+her from the other. The se&ntilde;ora desires to
+make retreat at the convent of the White<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+Sisters, thrice holy and beatified persons, but
+of a strictness repugnant to the lively and
+ardent spirit of the se&ntilde;orita. Last evening
+took place a terrible enactment, at which I
+most unluckily assisted. Se&ntilde;ora Montfort
+permitted her lofty spirit to assert itself
+more strongly than her delicate corporosity
+was able to endure, and fell into violent hystericality.
+Her shrieks wanted little of
+arousing the neighbourhood; the servants became
+appalled and lost their reason. Se&ntilde;orita
+Margarita maintained her calmness, and
+even refused to consider the se&ntilde;ora's condition
+as serious. On the assurance of the
+young lady and the se&ntilde;ora's maid, I was
+obliged to accept the belief that the se&ntilde;ora
+would shortly recover if left to herself, and
+came away in deep grief, leaving that illustrious
+matron&mdash;I speak with respect&mdash;in
+fits upon the floor. One would have said, a
+child of six deprived of its toy. Greatly
+honoured Se&ntilde;or Montfort, I am a man no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+longer young. Having myself no conjugal
+ameliorations, I make no pretence to comprehend
+the more delicate and complex nature
+of females. I am cut to the heart; the
+se&ntilde;ora scrupled not to address me as "Old
+Fool." Heaven is my witness that I have
+endeavoured of my best lights to smoothen
+the path for her well-born and at present bereaved
+feet. But what can I do? Neither
+lady will listen to me. The se&ntilde;orita, let me
+hasten to say, shows me always a tender, I
+might without too great a presumption say a
+filial, kindness. I held her in my arms from
+the day of her birth, se&ntilde;or; she is the flower
+of the world to me. When she takes me <ins title="Transcriber's Note: this word not present in original text">by</ins>
+the hands and says, "Dear old Donito Miguelito,
+let me do as I desire and all will be
+well!" I have no strength to resist her.
+Had I a house of my own, I would take this
+charming child home with me, to be my
+daughter while she would; but&mdash;a bachelor
+living in two rooms&mdash;what would you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+se&ntilde;or? it is not possible. Deign, I beseech
+you, to consider this my respectful report, and
+if circumstances are proprietary come to my
+assistance, or send me instructions how to
+act.</p>
+
+<p>Accept, se&ntilde;or, the assurance of my perfect
+consideration, and believe me</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your obedient, humble servant,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Miguel Pietoso.</span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>
+<span class="smcap">To the Honourable Se&ntilde;or Don John
+Montfort.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Honoured and dear Brother:</i>&mdash;Since I
+wrote you last week, things the most frightful
+have happened. Rita's conduct grew more
+and more violent and unruled; in despair, I
+sent for Don Miguel. This old man, though of
+irreproached character, is of a weakness pitiable
+to see in one wearing the form of mankind.
+I called upon him to uphold me, and
+command Rita to obey the wife of her father.
+He had only smooth words for each of us,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+and endeavoured to charm this wretched
+child, when terror should have been his
+weapon. I leave you to imagine if she was
+influenced by his gentle admonitions. To my
+face she caressed him, and he responded to
+her caresses. Don Miguel is an old man,
+eighty years of age, but nevertheless my
+anger, my just anger, rose to a height beyond
+my power of control. I fainted from excess
+of emotion; I lay as one dead, and no heart
+stirred of my sufferings. Since then I have
+been in my bed, with no power more than
+has a babe of the cradle. This morning
+Margarita came to me and expressed regret
+for her conduct, saying that she was willing
+from now to submit herself to my righteous
+authority. I forgave her,&mdash;I am a Christian,
+dear brother, and cannot forget the principles
+of my holy religion,&mdash;and we embraced with
+tears. This evening we go to the convent,
+where I hope to find ease for my soul-wounds
+and to subdue the frightful disposition of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+stepdaughter. I feel it my duty to relate
+these occurrences to you, dear and honoured
+brother, for I feel that I may succumb under
+the weight of my afflictions. We start this
+evening, and Don Miguel will inform you of
+our departure and safe arrival at the holy
+convent, whither he accompanies us.</p>
+
+<p>Permit me to express, dear brother, the
+sentiments of exalted consideration with
+which I must ever regard you as next in
+blood to my adored consort, and believe me</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 16em;">Your devoted,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Maria Concepcion de Naragua Montfort.</span><br />
+<br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Greatly honoured and illustrious
+Sir:</span>&mdash;Let me entreat you to prepare yourself
+for news of alarming nature. Yesterday
+evening I was honoured by the commands of
+the Se&ntilde;ora Montfort, that I convey her and
+Se&ntilde;orita Margarita to the holy convent of the
+White Sisters. My age, se&ntilde;or, is such that
+a scene of emotion is infinitely distressing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+me, but I could not disobey the commands
+of this illustrious lady, the widow of my
+kindest patron and friend. I went, prepared
+for tears, for outcries, perhaps for violent
+resistance, for the ardent and high-strung
+nature of my beloved Se&ntilde;orita Margarita is
+well known to me. Figure to yourself,
+honoured se&ntilde;or, my surprise at finding this
+charming damsel calm, composed, even smiling.
+She greeted me with her accustomed
+tenderness; a more enchanting personality
+does not, I am assured, adorn the earth than
+that of this lovely child. She bade me have
+no alarms for her, that all was well, she was
+reconciled to her lot; indeed, she added that
+she could not now wish things otherwise.
+Amazed, but also enchanted with her docility
+and sweetness, I gave her an old man's blessing,
+and my prayers that the rigour of the
+holy Sisters might be softened toward her
+tender and high-spirited youth. She replied
+that she had no fear of the Sisters; that in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+truth she thought they would give her no
+trouble of any kind. I was ravished with
+this assurance, having, I may confess it to
+you, se&ntilde;or, dreaded the contact between the
+se&ntilde;orita and the holy Mother, a woman of
+incredible force and piety. But I must hasten
+my narrative. At seven o'clock last evening
+two volantes were in readiness at the door
+of the Montfort mansion. The first was
+driven by the se&ntilde;ora's own man, the second
+by Pasquale, a negro devoted since childhood
+to the se&ntilde;orita. The se&ntilde;ora would have
+placed her daughter in the first of these
+vehicles; but no! the se&ntilde;orita sprang lightly
+into the second volante, followed by her maid,
+a young person, also tenderly attached to her.
+Interposing myself to produce calm, I persuade
+the admirable se&ntilde;ora to take the
+position that etiquette commanded, in the
+first carriage. It is done; I seat myself by
+her side; procession is made. The way to
+the convent of the White Sisters, se&ntilde;or, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+a steep and rugged one; on either hand are
+savage passes, are mountains of precipitation.
+To conceive what happened, how is it possible?
+When we reached the convent gate,
+the second volante was empty. Assassinated
+with terror, I make demand of Pasquale; he
+admits that he may have slept during the
+long traject up the hill. He swears that he
+heard no sound, that no word was addressed
+to him. He calls the saints to witness that
+he is innocent; the saints make no reply,
+but that is not uncommon. I search; I rend
+the air with my cries; alone silence responds
+to me. The se&ntilde;ora is carried fainting into
+the convent, and I return to Havana, a man
+distracted. I should say that in the carriage
+was found the long mantle in which the
+se&ntilde;orita had been gracefully attired; to its
+fold a note pinned, addressed me in affectionate
+terms, begging her dear Donito Miguelito
+not to have fear, that she was going to Don
+Carlos, her brother, and all would be well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+Since then is two days, se&ntilde;or, that I have
+not closed the eye. I attend a fit of illness,
+from grief and anxiousness. In duty I intelligence
+you of this dolorous event, praying
+you not to think me guilty of sin without
+pardon. I have deputed a messenger of trust
+to scrub thoroughly the country in search of
+Don Carlos, death to await him if he return
+without news of my beloved se&ntilde;orita. He is
+gone now twelve hours. If it arrive me at
+any moment the tidings, I make instantly to
+convey them to your Excellency, whether of
+joy or affliction.</p>
+
+<p>Receive, highly honoured se&ntilde;or, the assurance
+of my consideration the most elevated.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Miguel Pietoso.</span><br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE WAY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Ah, se&ntilde;orita! what will become of us?
+I can go no farther. Will this wilderness
+never end?"</p>
+
+<p>"Courage, Manuela! Courage, daughter of
+Cuba! See, it is growing light already. Look
+at those streaks of gold in the east. A few
+moments, and the sky will be bright; then
+we shall see where we are going, and all will
+be well. In the meantime, we are free, and
+on Cuban soil. What can harm us?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita looked around her with kindling eyes.
+She was standing on a rock that jutted
+from the hillside; it was a friendly rock, and
+they had been sleeping under it, wrapped in
+their warm cloaks, for the night was cool.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+A group of palms nodded their green plumes
+over the rock; on every side stretched a tangle
+of shrubs and tall grasses, broken here
+and there by palms, or by rocks like this.
+Standing thus in the early morning light,
+Rita was a picturesque figure indeed. She
+was dressed in a blouse and short skirt of
+black serge, with a white kerchief knotted
+around her throat, and another twisted carelessly
+around her broad-brimmed straw hat.
+Her beautiful face was alight with eager
+inquiry and determination; her eyes roved
+over the landscape, as if seeking some familiar
+figure; but all was strange so far. Manuela,
+crouching at the foot of the rock, had lost,
+for the moment, all the fire of her patriotism.
+She was cold, poor Manuela; also, she had
+had a heavy bag to carry, and her arms
+ached, and she was hungry, and, if the truth
+must be told, rather cross. It was absurd
+to bring all these things into the desert.
+What use for the white silk blouse, or the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+lace fichu? but indeed they had no weight,
+whereas this monster of a&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How is Chico?" asked Rita, coming down
+from the rock. "Poor bird! what does he
+think of our wandering? he must be in need
+of food, Manuela. You brought the box of
+seed?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did, se&ntilde;orita; as to the need of birdseed
+in a wilderness of hideous forest, I have
+nothing to say. My fingers are so cramped
+from carrying this detestable cage, I shall
+never recover the full use of them. But the
+se&ntilde;orita must be obeyed."</p>
+
+<p>"Assuredly she must be obeyed!" said
+Rita; and a flash of her eyes added force to
+the words. "Could I have come away, I ask
+you, and left this faithful, this patriot bird,
+to starve, or be murdered outright? Old
+Julio would have wrung his neck, you know
+it well, Manuela, the first time he spoke out
+from his heart, spoke the words of freedom
+and patriotism that his mistress has taught<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+him. Poor Chiquito! thou lovest me? thou
+art glad that I brought thee away from that
+place of tyranny and bloodshed? speak to thy
+mistress, Chico!"</p>
+
+<p>But Chico's spirits had been ruffled, as
+well as Manuela's, by being carried about in
+his cage, at unseemly hours, when he should
+have been hanging quietly in the verandah,
+where he belonged. He looked sulky, and
+only said, "<i>Caramba! no mi gusta!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"He is hungry! he starves!" cried Rita;
+"give me the seed!" Sitting down on the
+rock, she proceeded to feed the parrot, as
+composedly as if they were indeed on the
+wide shaded verandah, instead of on a wild
+hillside, far from sight or sound of anything
+human.</p>
+
+<p>"And the se&ntilde;orita's own breakfast?" said
+Manuela at last, when Chiquito had had
+enough, and had deigned to relax a little,
+and even to mutter, "<i>Mi gustan todas!</i>" "Is
+the se&ntilde;orita not also dying of hunger? for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+myself, I perish, but that is of little consequence,
+save that my death will leave the
+se&ntilde;orita alone&mdash;with the parrot."</p>
+
+<p>Rita burst into merry laughter. "My poor
+Manuela!" she said. "Thou shalt not perish.
+Breakfast? we will have it this moment.
+Where is the bag?"</p>
+
+<p>The bag being produced,&mdash;it really was a
+heavy one, and it was hardly to be wondered
+at that Manuela should be a little peevish
+about it,&mdash;Rita drew from it a substantial
+box of chocolate, and a tin of biscuits. "My
+child, we breakfast!" she announced. "If
+kings desire to breakfast more royally, I
+make them my compliment. For free Cubans,
+bread and chocolate is a feast. Feast, then,
+Manuela mine. Eat, and be happy!"</p>
+
+<p>Bread&mdash;or rather, delicate biscuits, and
+chocolate, were indeed a feast to the two
+hungry girls. They nibbled and crunched,
+and Manuela's spirits rose with every bite.
+Rita's had no need to rise. She was having<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+a real adventure; her dreams were coming
+true; she was a bona-fide heroine, in a bona-fide
+"situation." "What have we in the
+bag, best of Manuelas?" she asked. "I told
+you in a general way; I even added some
+trifles, for Carlos's comfort; poor dear Carlos!
+But tell me what you put in, my best one!"</p>
+
+<p>Manuela cast a rueful glance at the plump
+valise.</p>
+
+<p>"The white silk blouse," she said; "the
+white peignoir with swansdown."</p>
+
+<p>"In case of sickness!" cried Rita, interrupting.
+"You would not have me ill, far from
+my home, and bereft of every slightest comfort,
+Manuela? surely you would not; I know
+your kind heart too well. Besides, the peignoir
+weighs nothing; a feather, a puff of
+vapour. Go on! what else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Changes of linen, of course," said
+Manuela. "The gold-mounted toilet-set; two
+bottles of eau de Cologne; cigarettes for the
+Se&ntilde;orito Don Carlos; bonbons; the ivory<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+writing-case; the feather fan; three pairs
+of shoes&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Enough! enough!" cried Rita. "We
+shall do well, Manuela. You have been an
+angel of thoughtfulness. You did not bring
+any jewels? no? I thought perhaps the
+Etruscan gold set, so simple, yet so rich,
+might suit my altered life well enough; but
+no matter. After all, what have I to do
+with jewels now? The next question is, how
+are we to find Carlos?"</p>
+
+<p>"To find Don Carlos?" echoed Manuela.
+"You know where he is, se&ntilde;orita?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, assuredly!" said Rita, and she
+looked about her confidently. "He is&mdash;here!"</p>
+
+<p>"Here!" repeated Manuela.</p>
+
+<p>"In the mountains!" said Rita, waving
+her hand vaguely in the direction of the horizon.
+"It is a search; we must look for him,
+without doubt; but he is&mdash;here&mdash;somewhere.
+Come, Manuela, do not look so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+despairing. I tell you, we shall meet friends,
+it may be at any turn. The mountains are
+full of the soldiers of Cuba; the first ones
+we meet will take us to Carlos."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Manuela. "But what if we
+met the others, se&ntilde;orita? what if we met
+the Spanish soldiers first? Hark! what was
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>A sound was heard close behind them;
+a rustling, sliding sound, as if something or
+somebody were making his way swiftly
+through the tall grass. Manuela clutched
+her mistress's arm, trembling; Rita, rather
+pale, but composed, looking steadily in the
+direction of the noise. It came nearer&mdash;the
+grass rustled and shook close beside
+them; and out from the tufted tangle came&mdash;three
+large land-crabs, scuttling along on
+their ungainly claws, and evidently in a
+hurry. Manuela uttered a shriek, but Rita
+laughed aloud.</p>
+
+<p>"Good luck!" she said. "They are good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+Cubans, the land-crabs. Many a good meal
+has Carlos made on them, poor fellow. If
+we followed them, Manuela? They may be
+going&mdash;somewhere. Let us see!"</p>
+
+<p>The crabs were soon out of sight, but
+the two girls, taking up their burdens, followed
+in the direction they had taken,
+along the hillside, going they knew not
+whither.</p>
+
+<p>There seemed to be some faint suggestion
+of a path. The grasses were bent aside, and
+broken here and there; something had trodden
+here, whether feet of men or of animals
+one could not tell. But glad to have any
+guide, however insufficient, the girls amused
+themselves by trying to discover fresh marks
+on tree or shrub or grass-clump. It was a
+wild tangle, palms and mangoes, coarse
+grass and savage-looking aloes, with wild
+vines running riot everywhere. So far, they
+had seen no sign of human life, and the sun
+was now well up, his rays beating down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+bright and hot. Suddenly, coming to a turn
+on the hillside, they heard voices; a moment
+later, and they were standing by a human
+dwelling.</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 271px;">
+<img src="images/gs03.png" width="271" height="400" alt="&quot;THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO
+THE GLOWING FACE.&quot;" title="&quot;THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO
+THE GLOWING FACE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO
+THE GLOWING FACE.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>At first sight it looked more like the burrow
+of some wild animal. It was little
+more than a hole dug in the side of the clay
+bank. Some boughs and palm-leaves were
+wattled together to form a rustic porch, and
+under this porch three people were sitting, on
+the bare ground,&mdash;two women, one young,
+the other old, and a little child, evidently
+belonging to the young woman. They were
+clothed in a few rags; their cheeks were hollow
+with famine, their eyes burning with
+fever. The old woman was stirring a handful
+of meal into a pot of water; the others
+looked on with painful eagerness. Rita recoiled
+with a low cry of terror. She had
+heard of this; these were some of the unhappy
+peasants who had been driven from
+their farms. She had never seen anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+like it before. This&mdash;this was not the play
+she had come to see.</p>
+
+<p>The women looked up, and saw the two
+girls standing near. Instantly they began to
+cry out, in wailing voices. "Go! go away!
+there is nothing for you; nothing! we have
+not more than a mouthful for ourselves.
+Take yourselves away, and leave us in
+peace."</p>
+
+<p>Rita came forward, the tears running down
+her cheeks. "Oh, poor things!" she cried.
+"Poor souls, I want nothing. I am not hungry!
+See!&mdash;I have brought food for you.
+Quick, Manuela, the bag&mdash;the biscuits,
+child! Give them to me! Here, thou little
+one, take this, and eat; there is plenty
+more!"</p>
+
+<p>The famished child looked from the biscuit
+to the glowing face that bent over it. It
+made a feeble movement; then drew back in
+fear. The old woman still clamoured to the
+girls to go away; but the younger snatched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+the biscuit, and began feeding the child hastily,
+yet carefully. "Mother, be still!" she
+said, imperiously. "Hush that noise! do you
+not see this is no poor wretch like ourselves?
+This is a noble lady come from heaven to
+bring us help. Thanks, se&ntilde;orita!" With a
+quick, graceful movement, she lifted the hem
+of Rita's dress and pressed it to her lips.
+"We were dying!" she said, simply. "It
+was the last morsel; we meant to give it to
+the little one, and some one might find it
+when we were dead, and keep the life in it."</p>
+
+<p>"But, eat; eat!" cried Rita, filling the
+hands of both women with chocolate and
+biscuits. "It is dreadful, terrible! oh, I
+have heard of it, I have read of it, but I
+had not seen, I had not known. Oh, if my
+cousin Margaret were here, she would know
+what to do! Eat, my poor starving ones.
+You shall never be hungry again if I can
+help it."</p>
+
+<p>The child pulled its mother's ragged gown.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is it an angel?" it asked, its mouth full of
+chocolate.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear the innocent!" said the mother.
+"No, lamb, not yet an angel, only a noble
+lady on the road to heaven. See, se&ntilde;orita!
+he was pretty, while his cheeks were round
+and full. Still, his eyes are pretty, are they
+not?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are lovely! he is a darling!" cried
+Rita; and she took the child in her arms,
+and bent over him to hide the tears. Was
+this truly Rita Montfort? Yes, the same Rita,
+only awake now, for the first time now in
+her pretty idle life. She felt of the little
+limbs. They were mere skin and bone; no
+sign of baby chubbiness, no curve or dimple.
+Indeed, she had come but just in time.
+"Listen!" she said, presently. "Where do
+you come from? where is your home?"</p>
+
+<p>The old woman made a gesture as wide
+and vague as Rita's own of a few minutes
+before. "Our home, noble lady? the wilder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>ness
+is our home to-day. Our little farm,
+our cottage, our patch of cane, all gone, all
+destroyed. Only the graves of our dead
+left."</p>
+
+<p>"We come from Velaya," said the young
+woman. "It is miles from here; we were
+driven out by the Spaniards. My father was
+killed before our eyes; she is not herself since,
+poor soul; do we wonder at it? we have
+wandered ever since. My husband&mdash;do I
+know if he is alive or dead? He was with
+our men, he knows nothing of what has
+happened. If he returns, he will think us
+all dead. Poor Pedro! These are the conditions
+of war, se&ntilde;orita."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke very quietly; but her simple
+words pierced deeper than the plaints of the
+poor old woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, again!" said Rita. "I am going
+to my brother; he also is with our army; he
+is with the General. Do you know, can you
+tell me, in what direction to look for them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+When I find them, I will see; I will have provision
+made for you. You must stay here
+now, for a few hours; but have courage,
+help will come soon. My brother Carlos and
+the good General will care for you. Only
+tell me where to find them, and all will be
+well."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke so confidently that hope and
+courage seemed to go from her, and creep
+into the hearts of the forlorn creatures. The
+baby smiled, and stretched out its little fleshless
+hands for more of the precious food;
+even the old grandmother crept a little
+nearer, to kiss the hand of their benefactress,
+and call on all the saints to bless her
+and bring her to Paradise. The younger
+woman said there had been firing yesterday
+in that direction, and she pointed westward
+over the brow of a hill. They had seen
+no Cuban soldiers since they had been here,
+but a boy had passed by this morning, on his
+way to join the General, and he took the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+same westerly direction, and said the nearest
+pickets were not far distant.</p>
+
+<p>"And why did you not follow him?"
+asked Rita. "Why did you not go with
+him, and throw yourself at the feet of our
+good General, as I will do for you now?
+Yes, yes, I know; you were too weak, poor
+souls; you had no strength to travel farther.
+But I am young and strong, and so is Manuela;
+and we will go together, and soon we
+will come again, or send help for you. Manuela,
+will you come with me? or will it be
+better for you to stay and care for these poor
+ones while I seek Don Carlos?"</p>
+
+<p>But Manuela was, very properly, scandalised
+at the thought of her young lady's going off
+alone on any such quest. It appeared, she
+said, as if the se&ntilde;orita had left her excellent
+intelligence behind in Havana. These people
+would do very well now; they had food; they
+had, indeed, all there was, practically, and
+the se&ntilde;orita might herself starve, if they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+did not find Don Carlos soon. That was
+enough, surely; let them remain as they were.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Manuela!" said Rita, nodding
+sagely. "We must go together. Your
+heart does not appear to be stirred as mine
+is; but never mind&mdash;the hungry are fed, and
+that is the thing of importance. Farewell,
+then, friends! How do they call you, that I
+may know how to tell those whom I shall
+send?"</p>
+
+<p>The younger woman was named Dolores,
+she said. Her husband was Pedro Valdez,
+and this old one was his mother. If the
+se&ntilde;orita should see Pedro&mdash;if by Heaven's
+mercy he should be with the General at this
+moment, all would indeed be well. In any
+case, their prayers and blessings would go
+with the se&ntilde;orita and her valued attendant.</p>
+
+<p>Often and often, the soft Spanish speech of
+compliment and ceremony sounded hollow and
+artificial in Rita's ears, even though she
+had been used to it all her life; but there was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+no doubting the sincerity of these earnest and
+heartfelt thanks. Her own heart felt very
+warm, as she turned, with a final wave of the
+hands, to take a last look at the little group
+by the earth-hovel.</p>
+
+<p>"We have made a good beginning, Manuela,"
+she said. "We have saved three lives, I truly
+believe. Now we shall go on with new courage.
+I feel, Manuela, that I can do anything&mdash;meet
+any foe. Ah! what is that? a snake!
+a horrible green snake! I faint, Manuela! I
+die&mdash;no, I don't. See, I am the sister of a
+soldier, and I am not going to die any more,
+when I see these fearful creatures. Manuela,
+do you observe? I&mdash;am&mdash;firm; marble,
+Manuela, is soft in comparison with me. Ah,
+he is gone away. This is a world of peril, my
+poor child. Let us hasten on; Carlos waits
+for us, though he does not know it."</p>
+
+<p>Talking thus, with much more of the same
+kind, Rita pushed on, and Manuela followed
+as best she might. Rita had left the parrot's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+cage under charge of Dolores, and carried the
+bird on her shoulder, with only a cord fastened
+to his leg. Chico was well used to
+this, and made no effort to fly away; indeed,
+he had reached an age when it was more
+comfortable to sit on a soft shoulder and be
+fed and petted, than to flutter among strange
+trees and find his living for himself; so he
+sat still, crooning to himself from time to
+time, and cocking his bright yellow eye at his
+mistress, to see what she thought of it all.</p>
+
+<p>It was hard work, pushing through the
+jungle. The girls' hands were scratched and
+torn with brambles; Rita's delicate shoes
+were in a sad condition; her dress began to
+show more than one jagged rent. Still she
+made her way forward, with undaunted zeal,
+cheering the weary Manuela with jest and
+story. Indeed, the girl seemed thoroughly
+transformed, and her Northern cousins, who
+had known and loved her even in her wilful
+indolence, would hardly have recognised their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+Rita in this valiant maiden, who made
+nothing of heat, dust, or even scorpions, and
+pressed on and on in her quest of her brother.</p>
+
+<p>After an hour of weary walking, the girls
+came to a road, or something that passed for
+a road. There was no sign of life on it, but
+there was something that made them start,
+then stop and look at each other. Beside the
+rough path, in a tangle of vines and thorny
+cactus, stood the ruin of a tiny chapel. A
+group of noble palms towered above it; from
+the stony bank behind it bubbled a little
+fountain. The door of the chapel was gone;
+it was long since there had been glass in the
+windows, and the empty spaces showed only
+emptiness within; yet the bell still hung in
+the mouldering belfry; the bell-rope trailed
+above the sunken porch, its whole length
+twined with flowering creepers. It was a
+strange sight.</p>
+
+<p>"Manuela!" cried Rita; "do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see the holy chapel," said Manuela,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+who was a good Catholic. "Some saintly
+man lived here in old times. Pity, that the
+altar is gone. It must have been a pretty
+chapel, se&ntilde;orita."</p>
+
+<p>"The bell!" cried Rita. "Do you see the
+bell, Manuela? what if we rang it, to let
+Carlos know that we are near? It is a good
+idea, a superb idea!"</p>
+
+<p>"Se&ntilde;orita, I implore you not to touch it!
+For heaven's sake, se&ntilde;orita! Alas, what have
+you done?"</p>
+
+<p>Manuela clasped her hands, and fairly
+wailed in terror, for Rita had grasped the
+bell-rope, and was pulling it with right good
+will. Ding! ding! the notes rang out loud
+and clear. The rock behind caught up the
+echo, and sent it flying across to the hill
+beyond. Ding! ding! The parrot screamed,
+and Rita herself, after sounding two or three
+peals, dropped the rope, and stood with
+parted lips and anxious eyes, waiting to see
+what would come of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A sound of voices! eager voices of men,
+calling to one another. The tread of hasty
+feet, the noise of breaking bushes, of men
+sliding, jumping, running, hurrying, coming
+every instant nearer and nearer. What had
+Rita done, indeed? Manuela crouched on
+the mouldering floor at her mistress's feet,
+too terrified even to cry out now; Rita Montfort
+drew her dagger, and waited.</p>
+
+<p>Next instant the narrow doorway was
+thronged with men; swarthy black-browed
+men, ragged, hatless, shoeless, but all armed,
+all with rifle cocked, all pressing forward
+with eager, wondering looks.</p>
+
+<p>"Who rang the bell? what has happened?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A babel of voices arose; Rita could not
+have made herself heard if she would; and,
+indeed, for the moment no words came to her
+lips. But there was one to speak for her.
+Chiquito, the old gray parrot, raised his head
+from her shoulder, where he had been quietly
+dozing, and flapped his wings, and cried
+aloud:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Viva Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva
+Gomez! a muerto Espana!</i>" There was a
+moment's silence; then the voices broke out
+again in wild cries and cheers.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the Cuban bird! the parrot of freedom!
+Welcome, se&ntilde;orita! You bring us
+good luck! Welcome to the Cuban ladies and
+their glorious bird! <i>Viva Cuba Libre! viva
+Garcia! viva el papageno!</i> long life to the
+illustrious lady!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita, herself again, stepped from the
+chapel, erect and joyous, holding the parrot
+aloft.</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you, brothers!" she said. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
+come to seek freedom among you; I am a
+daughter of Cuba. Does any among you
+know Don Carlos Montfort?"</p>
+
+<p>The babel rose again. Know Don Carlos?
+but surely! was he not their captain? Even
+now he was at the General's quarters, consulting
+him about the movements of the next
+day. What joy! what honour for the poor
+sons of Cuba to form the escort of the peerless
+sister of Don Carlos to headquarters!
+But the distance was nothing. They would
+carry the se&ntilde;orita and her attendant; they
+would make a throne, and transport them as
+lightly as if swans drew them. Ah, the fortunate
+day! the lucky omen of the blessed
+parrot!</p>
+
+<p>They babbled like children, crowding round
+Chiquito, extolling his beauty, his wisdom,
+the miracle of his timely utterance. Chiquito
+seemed to think, for his part, that he had
+done enough. He paid no attention to the
+blandishments of his ragged admirers, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+turned himself upside down, always a sign of
+contempt with him, said "Caramba!" and
+would say nothing more.</p>
+
+<p>A little procession was formed, the least
+ragged of the patriots leading the way,
+Rita and Manuela following. The others
+crowded together behind, exclaiming, wondering,
+pleased as children with this wonderful
+happening. Thus they crossed a ragged
+hill, threaded a grove of palms, and finally
+came upon an open space, roughly cleared,
+in the middle of which stood a tent, with
+several rude huts around it. The soldiers
+explained with eager gestures. Behold the
+tent of the illustrious General. Behold the
+dwelling of Don Rodrigo, of Don Uberto, of
+Don Carlos; behold, finally, Don Carlos himself,
+emerging from the General's tent. The
+gallant ragamuffins drew back, and became
+on the instant spectators at a play. A slender
+young man came out of the tent, evidently
+to inquire the meaning of the commo<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>tion.
+At what he saw he turned apparently
+to stone, and stood, cigarette in hand, staring
+at the vision before him. But for Rita there
+was no hesitation now. Running to her
+brother, she threw her arms around his neck
+with unaffected joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Carlos!" she cried. "I have come to
+you. I had no one else to go to. They
+were taking me to the convent, and I would
+have died sooner. I have come to you, to
+live or die with you, for our country."</p>
+
+<p>Manuela wept; the soldiers were moved to
+tears, and brushed their ragged sleeves across
+their eyes. But Carlos Montfort did not
+weep.</p>
+
+<p>"Rita!" he said, in English, returning his
+sister's caress affectionately, but with little
+demonstration of joy. "What is the meaning
+of this? what induced you&mdash;how could
+you do such a thing as this? where do you
+come from? how did you find your way?"
+And he added to himself, "And what the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+mischief am I to do with you now you
+are here?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita explained hastily; gave a dramatic
+sketch of her adventures, not forgetting the
+unfortunate peasants, who must, she said, be
+rescued that instant from their wretched
+plight; and wound up with a vivid description
+of the bell-ringing, the gathering of
+the patriot forces, and the magnificent behaviour
+of her beloved Chiquito.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious! you have brought the
+parrot, too!" cried poor Carlos. "Rita!
+Rita! this is too much."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a new person appeared on
+the scene. A tall old man, stooping his head,
+came out from the tent, and greeted the wandering
+damsel with grave courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the General had seen too much of
+life and of war to be surprised at anything;
+perhaps he was sorry for the embarrassment
+of his young lieutenant, and wished to make
+things easier for him; however it was, he ap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>parently
+found it the most natural thing in
+the world for a young lady and her maid to
+be wandering in the wilderness in search of
+the Cuban army. The first thing, he said,
+was to make the se&ntilde;orita comfortable, as
+comfortable as their limited powers would
+allow. She would take his tent, of course;
+it was her own from that instant; but
+equally of course neither Rita nor Carlos
+would hear of this. A friendly dispute ensued;
+and it was finally decided that Rita and
+Manuela were to make themselves as comfortable
+as might be in Carlos's own tent,
+while he shared that of his commander. The
+General yielded only under protest to this
+arrangement; yet he did yield, seeing that
+resistance would distress both brother and
+sister. Since the se&ntilde;orita would not take his
+tent, he said, the next best thing was that she
+should accept his hospitality, such as he could
+offer her, within it; or rather, before it, since
+the evening was warm. His men were even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+now preparing the evening meal; when the
+se&ntilde;orita was refreshed and rested, he hoped
+she and Don Carlos would share it with him.</p>
+
+<p>Rita withdrew into the little hut, in a glow
+of patriotism and enthusiasm. "Manuela,"
+she cried, "did you ever see such nobleness,
+such lofty yet gracious courtesy? Ah! I knew
+he was a man to die for. How happy we
+are, to be here at last, after dreaming of it
+so long! I thrill; I burn with sacred fire&mdash;what
+is the matter, Manuela? you look the
+spirit of gloom. What has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>Manuela was crouching on the bare earthen
+floor, her shoulders shrugged up to her ears,
+her dark eyes glancing around the tiny room
+with every expression of marked disapproval.
+It was certainly not a luxurious apartment.
+The low walls were of rough logs, the roof was
+a ragged piece of very dingy canvas, held in
+place by stones here and there. In one corner
+was a pile of dried grass and leaves, with
+a blanket thrown over it,&mdash;evidently Don<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+Carlos's bed. There was a camp-stool, a
+rude box set on end, that seemed to do
+duty both for dressing and writing table,
+since it was littered with papers, shaving
+materials, cigarette-cases, and a variety of
+other articles.</p>
+
+<p>Manuela spread out her arms with a despairing
+gesture. Was this, she asked, the
+place where the se&ntilde;orita was going to live?
+Where was she to hang the dresses? where
+was she to lay out the dressing things? As to
+making up the bed,&mdash;it would be better
+to die at once, in Manuela's opinion, than to
+live&mdash;Here Manuela stopped suddenly, for
+she had seen something. Rita, whose back
+was turned to the doorway of the hut, was
+rating her severely. Was this Manuela's
+patriotism, she wished to know? had she not
+said, over and over again, that she was prepared
+to shed the last drop of blood for their
+country, as she herself, Rita, was longing to
+do? and now, when it was simply a question<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+of a little discomfort, of a few privations
+shared with their brave defenders, here was
+Manuela complaining and fretting, like a
+peevish child. Well! and what was the
+matter now?</p>
+
+<p>Manuela had risen from her despairing
+position, and was now bustling about the hut,
+brushing, smoothing, tidying up, with an
+air of smiling alacrity. But indeed, yes! she
+said; the se&ntilde;orita put her to shame. If the
+se&ntilde;orita could endure these trials, it was
+not for her poor Manuela to complain. No,
+indeed, sooner would she die. And after all,
+the hut was small, but that made things more
+handy, perhaps. The beautiful table that
+this would become, if she might remove the
+Se&ntilde;or Don Carlos's cigar-ashes? There! a scarf
+thrown over it&mdash;ah! What fortune, that she
+had brought the crimson satin scarf! Behold,
+an exhibition of beauty! As for the bed,
+she had heard from&mdash;from those who were
+soldiers themselves, that no couch was so soft,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+so wooing to sleep, as one of forest boughs.
+It stood to reason; there was poetry in the
+thought, as the se&ntilde;orita justly remarked.
+Now, with a few nails or pegs to hang things
+on, their little apartment would be complete.
+Let the se&ntilde;orita of her goodness forget the
+foolishness of her poor Manuela; she should
+hear no more of it; that was a promise.</p>
+
+<p>Rita looked in amazement at her follower;
+the girl's eyes were sparkling, her cheeks
+flushed, and she could not keep back the
+smiles that came dimpling and rippling over
+her pretty face.</p>
+
+<p>"But what has happened to you, Manuela?"
+cried Rita. "I insist upon knowing. What
+have you seen?"</p>
+
+<p>What had Manuela seen, to produce such
+a sudden and amazing change? Nothing,
+surely; or next to nothing. A ragged soldier
+had strolled past the door of the hut; a
+black-browed fellow, with a red handkerchief
+tied over his head, and a black cigar nearly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+a foot long; but what should that matter to
+Manuela?</p>
+
+<p>Rita looked at her curiously, but could
+get no explanation, save that Manuela had
+come to her senses, owing to the noble
+and glorious example set her by her beloved
+se&ntilde;orita.</p>
+
+<p>"Well!" said Rita, turning away half-petulantly.
+"Of course I know you are as
+changeable as a weathercock, Manuela. But
+as you were saying, if we had a few nails, we
+should do well enough here. I will go ask
+the Se&ntilde;or Don Carlos&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, dearest se&ntilde;orita!" cried Manuela,
+hastily. "But what a pity that would be,
+to disturb the se&ntilde;or during his arduous labours.
+Without doubt the illustrious Se&ntilde;or Don
+Generalissimo (Manuela loved a title, and
+always made the most of one) requires him
+every instant, in the affairs of the nation.
+I&mdash;I can find some one who will get nails
+for us, and drive them also."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You can find some one?" repeated
+Rita. "And whom, then, can you find,
+pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only Pepe!" said Manuela, in a small
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Was the name a conjuring-spell? It had
+hardly been spoken when Pepe himself stood
+in the doorway, ducking respectfully at the
+se&ntilde;orita, but looking out of the corners of his
+black eyes at Manuela. Rita smiled in spite
+of herself. Was this ragamuffin, barefoot,
+tattered, his hair in elf-locks,&mdash;was this
+the once elegant Pepe, the admired of himself
+and all the waiting-maids of Havana? He
+had once been Carlos's servant, when the
+young Cuban had time and taste for such idle
+luxuries; now he was his fellow soldier and
+faithful follower.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Pepe," said Rita; "you also are
+here to welcome us, it appears. That is well.
+If you could find us a few nails, my good
+Pepe? the Se&ntilde;or Don Carlos is occupied with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+the General at present, and you can help us,
+if you will."</p>
+
+<p>Where had Rita learned this new and
+gracious courtesy? A few months ago, she
+would have said, "Pepe! drive nails!" and
+thought no more about it. Indeed, she could
+have given no explanation, save that "things
+were different." Perhaps our Rita is growing
+up, inside as well as outside? Certainly
+the pretty airs and graces have given way to
+a womanly and thoughtful look not at all
+unbecoming to any face, however beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>The thoughtful look deepened into anxiety,
+as a sudden recollection flashed into her
+mind. "Oh!" she cried. "And here I sit
+in peace, and have done nothing about those
+poor creatures in the hut! I must go to the
+General! But stay! Pepe, do you know&mdash;is
+there a man in the camp called Pedro
+Valdez?"</p>
+
+<p>But, yes! Pepe said. Assuredly there was
+such a man. Did the se&ntilde;orita require him?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please bring him!" said Rita. "Tell
+him that I have something of importance to
+tell him. Quick, my good Pepe!"</p>
+
+<p>Pepe vanished, and soon returned, dragging
+by the collar a lean scarecrow even
+more dilapidated than himself. Apparently
+the poor fellow had been asleep, and had been
+roughly clutched and hauled across the camp,
+for his hair was full of leaves and grass, and
+he was rubbing his eyes and swearing softly
+under his breath, vowing vengeance on his
+captor.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, animal!" said Pepe, admonishing
+him by a kick of the presence of ladies;
+"Behold the illustrious se&ntilde;orita, who does
+you the honour to look at you. Attention,
+Swine of the Antilles!"</p>
+
+<p>Thus adjured, poor Pedro straightened
+himself, made the best bow he could, and
+stood sheepishly before Rita, trying furtively
+to brush a few of the sticks and straws off
+his ragged clothing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are Pedro Valdez?" asked Rita.</p>
+
+<p>At the service of the illustrious se&ntilde;orita.
+Yes, he was Pedro Valdez; in no condition
+to appear in such company, but nevertheless
+her slave and her beast of burden.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, listen!" cried Rita, her eyes softening
+with compassion and anxiety. "You have
+a wife, Pedro Valdez,&mdash;a wife and a dear
+little child, is it not so? and your mother&mdash;she
+is old and weak. When have you seen
+them all, Valdez? Where did you leave
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>The man looked bewildered. "Leave
+them, se&ntilde;orita? I left them at home, in
+our village. They were well, all was well,
+when I came away. Has anything befallen
+them?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are safe! All is well with them
+now, or will be well, when you go to them.
+They are near here, Valdez. The Spaniards
+broke up the village, do you see? Dolores
+and your mother fled with the little one. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+village was burned, and many souls perished;
+but Dolores was so strong, so brave, that
+she got the old mother away alive and safe,
+and the child as well. They have suffered
+terribly, my poor man; you must look to find
+them pale and thin, but they are alive, and
+all will be well when once they have found
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Seeing Valdez overcome for the moment,
+Rita hastened to the General's tent and told
+her story, begging that the husband and
+father might be allowed to go at once to the
+relief of his suffering family.</p>
+
+<p>"And he shall bring them here, shall he
+not?" she cried, eagerly. "They cannot be
+separated again, can they, dear Se&ntilde;or General?
+you will make room for Dolores&mdash;that is the
+wife; oh, such a brave woman! and the old
+mother, and the dear little child!"</p>
+
+<p>The General looked puzzled; a look half
+quizzical, half sad, stole over his fine face;
+while he hesitated, Carlos broke out hastily:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+"Rita! you are too unreasonable! Do you
+think we are in a city here? do you think the
+General has everything at his command, to
+maintain an establishment of women and
+children? It is not to be thought of. We
+have no room, no supplies, no conveniences of
+any kind; they must go elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"They can have my house!" cried Rita,
+"Your house, brother Carlos, which you have
+given to me. I will sleep in a hammock,
+under a tree. What matter? I will live on
+bread and water; I will&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear young lady!" said the General,
+interrupting her eager speech with a lifted
+hand. "My dear child, if an old man may
+call you so, if only we had bread for all,
+there would be no further question. We
+would gladly take these poor people, and
+hundreds of other suffering ones who fill
+the hills and valleys of our unhappy country.
+But&mdash;Carlos is right, alas! that I must say
+it. Here in the mountain camp, it is impossi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>ble
+for us to harbour refugees, unless for a
+night or so, while other provision is making.
+Let Valdez bring his family here for the
+night&mdash;we can make shift to feed and
+shelter them so long. After that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head sadly. Rita clasped her
+hands in distress. To be brought face to face
+with the impossible was a new experience to
+the spoiled child. There was a moment's
+silence. Then:</p>
+
+<p>"Se&ntilde;or General," she cried, "I know! I
+see! all may yet be managed. They shall go
+to our house."</p>
+
+<p>"To&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To our house, Carlos's and mine, in Havana.
+There are servants, troops of them; there is
+food, drink, everything, in abundance, in
+wicked, shameful abundance. Julio shall take
+care of them; Julio shall treat them as his
+mother and his sister. I will write commands
+to him; this instant I will write."</p>
+
+<p>Snatching a sheet of paper from the table,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+she wrote furiously for a moment, then handed
+the paper to the General with a look of satisfaction.
+The General&mdash;oh, how slow he
+was!&mdash;adjusted his glasses, and read the
+paper carefully; looked at Rita; looked at
+Carlos, and read the paper again. Rita
+clenched her little hands, but was calm as
+marble, as she assured herself. "Have I the
+se&ntilde;orita's permission to read this aloud?"
+asked the old man at last. "It may be
+that Don Carlos's advice&mdash;a thousand thanks,
+se&ntilde;orita." He read:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Julio:</span>&mdash;The bearer of this is the wife of
+Pedro Valdez. You are to take her and her
+family in, and give them the best the house
+contains; the best, do you hear? put them
+in the marble guest-chamber, and place the
+house at their disposal. Send for Doctor
+Blanco to attend them; let Teresa wait upon
+them, and let her furnish them with clothes
+from my wardrobe. If you do not do all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
+this, Julio, I will have you killed; so fail
+not as you value your life.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+"<span class="smcap">Margarita de San Real Montfort.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>"P.S. The Se&ntilde;or Don Carlos is here with
+me, and echoes what I say. We are with the
+brave General Sevillo, and if you dare to
+disobey, terrible revenge will be taken."</p><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p>"The ardent patriotism of the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'senorita'">se&ntilde;orita</ins>,"
+said the General, cautiously, "is beautiful and
+inspiring; nevertheless, is it not possible that
+a more conciliatory tone might&mdash;I would
+not presume to dictate, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Rita!" cried Carlos. "Child, when
+will you learn that we are no longer acting
+plays at home? This is absurd!"</p>
+
+<p>With an impatient movement that might
+have been Rita's own, he snatched the paper
+and tore it in two. "The General cannot be
+troubled with such folly!" he said, shortly.
+"Go to your room, my sister, and repose
+yourself after your fatigues."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"By no means!" cried the kindly General,
+seeing Rita's eyes fill with tears of anger and
+mortification. "The se&ntilde;orita has promised
+to make my tea for me this evening. Give
+orders, I pray you, Don Carlos, that Valdez
+bring his family to us for the night; the rest
+can well wait for to-morrow's light. The
+se&ntilde;orita is exhausted, I fear, with her manifold
+fatigues, and she must have no more
+anxieties to-day. Behold the tea at this
+moment! Se&ntilde;orita Rita, this will be the
+pleasantest meal I have had since I left my
+home, two years ago."</p>
+
+<p>No anger could stand against the General's
+smile. In a moment Rita was smiling herself,
+though the tears still stood in her dark eyes,
+and one great drop even rolled down her
+cheek, to the General's great distress. Carlos,
+seeing with contrition his sister's effort at
+self-control, bent to kiss her cheek and murmur
+a few affectionate words. Soon they
+were all seated around the little table, Rita<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+and the General on camp-stools, Carlos on a
+box. The tea was smoking hot; what did
+it matter that the nose of the teapot was
+broken? Rita had never tasted anything so
+delicious as that cup of hot tea, without milk,
+and with a morsel of sugar-cane for sweetening.
+The camp fare, biscuits soaked in water
+and fried in bacon fat, was better, she declared,
+than any food she had ever tasted in
+her life. To her delight, a small box of
+chocolate still remained in her long-suffering
+bag; this she presented to the General with
+her prettiest courtesy, and he vowed he was
+not worthy to taste such delicacies from such
+a hand. So, with interchange of compliments,
+and with a real friendliness that was far better,
+the little feast went on gaily; and when, late
+in the evening, Rita withdrew to her tent,
+she told Manuela that she had never enjoyed
+anything so much in her life; never!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>TO MARGARET.</h3>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Camp of the Sons of Cuba</span>,<br />
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">May the &mdash;, Midnight.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Marguerite</span>:&mdash;What will you say
+when your eyes, those calm gray eyes, rest
+upon the above heading? Will they open
+wider, I ask myself? Will the breath come
+quicker between those cool rose-leaves of your
+lips? "It is true!" you will murmur to yourself.
+"She has done as she said, as she swore
+she would. My Rita, my wild pomegranate
+flower, has kept her vow; she is in the
+mountains with Carlos; she has taken her
+place beside the defenders of her country."</p>
+
+<p>Ah! you thought it was play, Marguerite,
+confess it! You thought the wild Cuban girl
+was uttering empty breath of nothingness;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+you have had no real anxiety, you never
+dreamed that I should really find myself&mdash;where
+now I am. Where is it? Listen,
+Marguerite! My house&mdash;once Carlos's house,
+now mine by his brotherly gift&mdash;stands in
+a little glen of the hills. An open space,
+once dry grass, now bare earth, baked by the
+sun, trodden by many feet; a cluster of palms,
+a mountain spring gushing from a rock hard
+by; on every side hills, the brown, rugged
+hills of Cuba, fairer to me than cloudy Alps
+of Italy, or those other great mountains of
+which never can I remember the barbarous
+names. To teach me geography, Marguerite,
+you never could succeed, you will remember;
+more than our poor Peggy history. Poor
+little Peggy! I could wish she were here
+with me; it would be the greatest pleasure
+of her life. For you, Marguerite, the scene
+is too wild, too stern; but Peggy has a
+martial spirit under her somewhat clumsy
+exterior. But I wander, and Peggy is without<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+doubt sleeping at this moment under the
+stern eye of her schoolmistress. I began to
+tell you about my house, Marguerite. So
+small a house you saw never. Standing, I
+reach up my hand and touch the roof, of
+brown canvas, less fresh than once it was.
+Sitting, I stretch out my arms&mdash;here is one
+wall; there&mdash;almost, but a few feet between&mdash;is
+the other. In a corner my bed&mdash;ah,
+Marguerite! on your white couch there, with
+snowy draperies falling softly about you,
+consider my bed! a pile of dried grasses and
+leaves, shaken and tossed anew every morning,
+covered with a camp blanket. I tell you,
+the gods might sleep on it, and ask no better.
+In another corner sleeps Manuela, my faithful
+maid, my humble friend, the companion of my
+wanderings. Some day you shall see Manuela;
+she is an excellent creature. Cultivated, no;
+intellinctual&mdash;what is that for a word, Marguerite?
+Ah! when will you learn Spanish,
+that I may pour my soul with freedom?&mdash;no;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+but a heart of gold, a spirit of fire and crystal.
+She keeps my hut neat, she arranges my
+toilet,&mdash;singular toilets, my dear, yet not
+wholly unbecoming, I almost fancy,&mdash;she
+helps me in a thousand ways. She has a
+little love-affair, that is a keen interest to me;
+Pepe, formerly the servant of Carlos, adores
+her, and she casts tender eyes upon the young
+soldier. For me, as you know, Marguerite,
+these things are for ever past, buried in the
+grave of my hero, in the stately tomb that
+hides the ashes of the Santillos. I take a
+sorrowful pleasure in watching the budding
+happiness of these young creatures. More
+of this another time.</p>
+
+<p>I sit, Marguerite, in the doorway of my
+little house. It is the middle hour of the
+night, when tomb-yards gape, as your Shakespeare
+says. Am I sleepy? No! The camp
+slumbers, but I&mdash;I am awake, and I watch.
+I had a very long siesta, too. The moon is
+full, and the little glade is bathed in silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+light. Here in Cuba, Marguerite, the moon
+is other than with you in the north. You
+call her pale moon, gentle moon, I know not
+what. Here she shines fiercely, with passion,
+with palpitations of fiery silver. The palms,
+the aloes, the tangled woods about the camp,
+are black as night; all else is a flood of airy
+silver. I float, I swim in this flood, entranced,
+enraptured. I ask myself, have I lived till
+now? is not this the first real thrill of life
+I have ever experienced? I alone wake, as
+I said; the others slumber profoundly. The
+General in his tent; ah, that you could know
+him, Marguerite! that you and my uncle
+could embrace this noble, this godlike figure!
+He is no longer young, the snows of seventy
+winters have blanched his clustering locks;
+it is the only sign of age. For the rest, erect,
+vigorous, a knight, a paladin, a&mdash;in effect,
+a son of Cuba. The younger officers regard
+him as a divinity; they live or die at his
+command. They are three, these officers;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+Carlos is one; the others, Don Alonzo Ximenes,
+Don Uberto Cortez. Don Alonzo is not
+interesting; he is fat, and rather stupid, but
+most good-natured. Don Uberto is Carlos's
+friend, a noble young captain, much admired
+formerly in Havana. I have danced with
+him, my cousin, in halls of rose-wreathed
+marble; we meet here in the wilderness, I
+with my shattered affections, he with his
+country's name written on his soul. It is
+affecting; it is heart-stirring, Marguerite; yet
+think nothing of it; romance is dead for
+Margarita Montfort. Carlos is my kind
+brother, as ever. He was vexed at first at
+my coming here. Heavens! what was I to
+do? My stepmother was dragging me to a
+convent; my days would have been spent
+there, and in a short time my life would have
+gone out like a flame. "Out, short candle!"
+You see I remember your Shakespeare readings,
+my dearest. Can I forget anything
+that recalls you to me, half of my heart? If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+there had been time, indeed, I might have
+written to my uncle; I might even have come
+to you; but the hour descended like a thunderbolt;
+I fled, Manuela with me. The manner
+of my flight? you will ask. Marguerite, it
+was managed&mdash;I do not boast, I am the soul
+of humility, you know it!&mdash;the manner of
+it was perfect. Listen, and you shall hear
+all. You remember that in my last
+letter&mdash;written, alas! in my beloved garden, which
+I may never see more&mdash;I spoke with a certain
+restraint, even an approach to mystery.
+It was thus. At first, when that woman
+proposed to take me to the convent, I was
+a creature distracted. The fire of madness
+burned in my veins, and I could think of
+nothing save death or revenge. But with
+time came reflection; came wisdom, Marguerite,
+and inflexible resolve. To those she
+loves, Margarita Montfort is wax, silk, down,
+anything the most soft and yielding that can
+be figured. To her enemies, steel and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+adamant are her composition. I had two
+friends in that house of Spaniards; one was
+Pasquale, good, faithful Pasquale, an under
+gardener and helper; the other, Manuela, my
+maid. I have described her to you&mdash;enough!
+I realised that action must be of swiftness,
+the lightning flash, the volcano fire that I
+predicted. Do not say that I did not warn
+you, Marguerite; knowing me, you must have
+expected from my last letter what must come.
+I called Manuela to my room, I made
+pretence that she should arrange my hair. My
+hair has grown three inches, Marguerite, since
+I left you; it now veritably touches the floor
+as I sit. Our holy religion tells us that it is
+a woman's crown, yet how heavy a one at
+times! I closed the door, I locked it; I
+caused to draw down the heavy Persians.
+Then, tiger-like, I sprang upon my attendant,
+and laid my hand on her mouth. "Hush!"
+I tell her. "Not a word, not a sound! dare
+but breathe, and you may be my death. My<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+life, I tell you, hangs by a thread. Hush! be
+silent, and tell me all. Tell me who assists
+Geronimo in the stables since Pablo is ill."
+Manuela struggles, she releases herself to
+reply&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Pasquale!"</p>
+
+<p>It is the answer from heaven. Pasquale, I
+have said, is my one friend beside Manuela.
+I say to her, "Do thus, and thus! give these
+orders to Pasquale; tell him that it imports of
+your life and mine, saying nothing of his own;
+that if I am not obeyed, the evil eye will be
+the least of his punishments, and death without
+the sacraments the end for him."</p>
+
+<p>Manuela hears; she trembles; she flies to
+execute my commands. Then, Marguerite&mdash;then,
+what does the daughter of Cuba do? She
+goes to the wall, to the trophy I have described
+to you so often. She selects her weapons. Ah,
+if you could see them! First, a long slender
+dagger, the steel exquisitely inlaid with gold,
+in a sheath of green enamel; a dagger for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+a prince, Marguerite, for your Lancelot or
+Tristram! Another, short and keen, the blade
+plain but deadly, cased in wrought leather of
+Cordova. Last, my machete, my pearl of
+destructiveness. It was his, my Santayana's;
+he procured it from Toledo, from the master
+sword-maker of the universe. The blade is
+so fine, the eye refuses to tell where it melts
+into the air; a touch, and the hardest substance
+is divided exactly in two pieces. The
+handle, gold, set with an ancestral emerald,
+which for centuries has brought victory in
+the field to the arm of the hero who wore it;
+the sheath&mdash;I forget myself; this weapon
+has no sheath. When a Santillo de Santayana
+rides into battle, he has no thought to sheathe
+his sword. These, Marguerite, are my armament;
+these, and a tiny gold-mounted revolver,
+a gem, a toy, but a toy of deadly purpose.
+Enough! I lay them apart, ready for the
+night. I go to my stepmother, I smile, I
+make submission. I will do all she wishes;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+I am a child; her age impresses me with the
+truth that I should not set my will against
+hers. Concepcion is thirty on her next birthday;
+she tells the world that she is twenty,
+but I know! it grinds her bones when I
+remind her of her years, as they were revealed
+to me by a member of her family. So! She
+is pleased, we embrace, the volantes are commanded,
+all goes smoothly. I demand permission
+to take my parrot to the convent; it
+is, to my surprise, accorded; I know she
+thought those savage sisters would kill him
+the first time he uttered his noble and inspiring
+words.</p>
+
+<p>The night comes, the hour of the departure.
+To accompany us goes my good Don
+Miguel, the dear old man of whom I have
+told you, whom I revere as my grandfather.
+My heart yearns to tell him all, to cast myself
+on his venerable bosom and cry, "Come
+with me; take me yourself to my brother;
+share with us the perils and glories of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+tented field!" But no! he is old, this dear
+friend; his hair is the snow, his step is feeble.
+Hardships such as Rita must now endure
+would end his feeble life. I speak no word;
+a marble smile is all I wear, though my heart
+is rent with anguish. The carriages are at
+the door. Concepcion would have me ride
+in the first, that she may have her eyes on
+me at each instant. She suspects nothing,
+no; it is merely the base and suspicious
+nature which reveals itself at every occasion.
+I refuse, I prodigate expressions of my
+humility, of my determination to take the
+second place, leaving the first to her; briefly,
+I take the second volante, Manuela springing
+to my side. After some discontent, appeased
+by dear Don Miguel, who is veritably an
+angel, and wants but death to transport him
+among the saints, Concepcion mounts in the
+first volante. I have seen that Pasquale is
+on the box of mine; I possess my soul, I lean
+back and count the beats of my fevered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+pulse, as we ascend the steep road, winding
+among hills and forests. The convent is at
+the top of a long, long hill, very steep and
+rugged; the horses pant and strain; humanity
+demands that they slacken their pace,
+that the carriages are slowly, slowly, drawn
+up the rugged track. The night descends, I
+have told you, swiftly in our southern climate;
+already it is dark. On either side of
+the road are tall shrouded forms, which
+Manuela takes for sentinels, for Spanish soldiers
+drawn up to watch, perhaps to arrest us.
+I laugh; I see they are the aloes only,
+planted here in rows along the road. Presently,
+at a turn of the road, a light! a fire
+burning by the roadside, and soldiers running,
+real ones this time, to the horses'
+heads. "<i>Alerta! quien va?</i>" It is the Spanish
+challenge, Marguerite; it is a piquette of
+the Gringos, of the hated Spaniards. They
+peer into the carriages, faces of savages, of
+brutes, devils; I feel their glances like poi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>soned
+arrows. They demand, Don Miguel
+makes answer, shows his papers. Of the instant
+these slaves are cringing, are bowing to
+the earth. "Pass, most honourable and illustrious
+Se&ntilde;or Don Miguel Pietoso, with the
+heavenly ladies under your charge!" It is
+over. The volantes roll on. I clasp Manuela
+in my arms and whisper, "We are free!"
+We mingle our tears of rapture, but for a
+moment only. We approach the steepest
+pitch of the long hill (it is veritably a mountain),
+a place beyond conception rugged and
+difficult. The horses strain and tug; they
+are at point of exhaustion. I look at Pasquale;
+Pasquale has served me since my
+cradle. Does his head move, a very little,
+the least imaginable motion? It is too dark
+to see; the moon is not yet risen. But I feel
+the horses checked, I feel the carriage pause,
+an instant, a breath only. I step noiselessly
+to the ground; the volante is low, permitting
+this without danger. Manuela follows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+There is not a sound, not a creak, not the
+rustle of a fold. Again it is over. The volante
+rolls on. Manuela and I are alone,
+are free in the mountains of Cuba Libre.</p>
+
+<p>I have but one thought: my country, my
+brother! Behold me here, in the society of
+one, prepared to shed my blood for the other.
+You would never guess who else is with us;
+Chiquito, our poor old friend the parrot, the
+sacred legacy of that white saint, our departed
+aunt. Could I leave him behind, to
+unfriendly, perhaps murderous, hands? Old
+Julio is a Spaniard at heart; Chiquito is a
+Cuban bird; his very soul&mdash;do you doubt
+that a bird has a soul, when I tell you that
+I have seen it in his eyes, Marguerite?&mdash;his
+very soul speaks for his country. If you
+could hear him cry, "<i>Viva Cuba Libre!</i>" The
+camp is on fire when they hear him. Ah,
+they are such brave fellows, our soldiers!
+poor, in rags, half-fed&mdash;it matters not! each
+one is a hero, and all are my brothers. Mar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>guerite,
+sleep hangs at last upon me. Good-night,
+beloved; good-night, cool white soul of
+ivory and silver. I love thee always devotedly.
+Have no fear for me. It is true that
+the Spaniards are all about us in these mountains,
+that at any moment we may be attacked.
+What of that? If the daughter of
+Cuba dies by her brother's side, in her country's
+cause, my Marguerite will know that it
+is well with her. You will shed a tear over
+the lonely grave among the Cuban hills; but
+you will plant a wreath for Rita, a wreath
+of mingled laurel and immortelle, and it will
+bloom eternally.</p>
+
+<p>Ever, and with a thousand greetings to my
+honoured and admired uncle, your</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Margarita de San Real Montfort.</span><br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE NIGHT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Rita drew a long breath as she folded
+her letter. She was in a fine glow of mingled
+affection and patriotic fervour; it had been a
+great relief to pour it all out in Margaret's
+sympathetic ear, though that ear were a
+thousand miles away. Now she really must
+go to bed. It was one o'clock, her watch
+told her. It seemed wicked, profane, to
+sleep under such moonlight as this; but still,
+the body must be preserved.</p>
+
+<p>"But first," she said to herself, "I must
+have a drop of water; writing so long has
+made me thirsty."</p>
+
+<p>She took up the earthen water-jar, but
+found it empty. Pepe had for once been
+faithless; indeed, neither he nor Manuela had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+escaped the witchery of the full moon, and
+she had had little good of them that whole
+evening. She glanced at the corner where
+Manuela lay; the light, regular breathing
+told that the girl was sound asleep. It
+would be a pity to wake her from her first
+sweet sleep, poor Manuela. A year, perhaps
+a month ago, Rita would not have hesitated
+an instant; but now she murmured, "Sleep,
+little one! I myself will fetch the water."</p>
+
+<p>She stepped out into the moonlight, with
+the jar in her hand. All was still as sleep
+itself. No sound or motion from huts or
+tent. Under the palms lay a number of
+brown bundles, motionless. Dry leaves, piled
+together for burning? no! soldiers of Cuba,
+wrapped in such covering as they could find,
+taking their rest. Alone, beside a little heap
+of twigs that still smouldered, the sentry sat;
+his back was turned to her. Should she
+speak to him, and ask him to go to the
+spring for her? No; how much more interest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>ing
+to go herself! Everything looked so different
+in this magic light; it was a whole
+new world, the moon's fairyland; who knew
+what wonderful sights might meet her eyes?
+Besides, her old nurse used to say that water
+drawn from a pure spring under the full
+moon produced a matchless purity of the
+complexion. Her complexion was well
+enough, perhaps, but still&mdash;and anyhow,
+it would be an adventure, however small a
+one.</p>
+
+<p>The girl's feet, in their soft leather slippers,
+made no sound on the bare earth. The sentry
+did not turn his head. Silent as a cloud, she
+stole across the little glade, and passed under
+the trees at the farther end. Here the
+ground broke off suddenly in a rocky pitch,
+down which one scrambled to another valley
+or glen lying some hundred feet lower; the
+cliff (for it was steep enough to merit that
+name) was mostly bare rock, but here and
+there a little earth had caught and lodged,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+and a few seeds had dropped, and a tuft of
+grass or a little tree had sprung up, defying
+the gulf below. A few feet only from the
+upper level, just below a group of palms that
+nodded over the brink, the stream gushed
+out from the face of the rock, clear and cold.
+The soldiers had hollowed a little trough to
+receive the trickling stream, and one had
+only to hold one's pitcher under this spout
+for a few minutes, to have it filled with delicious
+water. Rita had often come hither in
+the daytime, during the week that had now
+passed since her arrival at the mountain
+camp. It was a wild and picturesque scene
+at any time, but now the effect of the intense
+white light, falling on splintered rock, hanging
+tree, and glancing stream was magical indeed.
+Rita lay down on her face at the edge
+of the precipice, as she had seen the soldiers
+do, and lowered her jar carefully. As the
+water gurgled placidly into the jar, her eyes
+roved here and there, taking in every detail of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+the marvellous scene before her. Never, she
+thought, had she seen anything so beautiful,
+so unearthly in its loveliness. Peace! silver
+peace, and silence, the silence of&mdash;hark!
+what was that?</p>
+
+<p>A crack, as of a twig breaking; a rustling,
+far below in the gorge; a shuffling sound, as
+of soft shod feet pressing the soft earth.
+Rita crouched flat to the ground, and, leaning
+over as far as she dared, peered over the
+precipice. The bottom of the gorge was
+filled with a mass of tall grasses and feathery
+blossoming shrubs, with here and there a
+tree rising tall and straight. The leaves
+were black as jet in the strong light. Gazing
+intently, she saw the branches tremble, wave,
+separate; and against the dark leaves shone
+a gleam of metal, that moved, and came
+nearer. Another and yet another; and now
+she could see the dark faces, and the moon
+shone on the barrels of the carbines, and made
+them glitter like silver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Swiftly and noiselessly the girl drew back
+from the brink, crouching in the grass till
+she reached the shadow of the grove. Then
+she rose to her feet, still holding her jar of
+water carefully,&mdash;for there was no need of
+wasting that,&mdash;and ran for her life.</p>
+
+<p>A whispered word to the sentry, who
+sprang quickly enough from his reverie beside
+the fire; then to the General's tent, then
+to Carlos, with the same whispered message.
+"The Gringos are here! Wake, for the love
+of Heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>In another moment the little glade was
+alive with dusky figures, springing from
+their beds of moss and leaves, snatching
+their arms, fumbling for cartridges. The
+General was already among them. Carlos
+and the other officers came running, buckling
+their sword-belts, rubbing their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are they?" all were asking in
+excited whispers. "Who saw them? Is it
+another nightmare of Pepe's?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No! no!" murmured Rita. "I saw them,
+I tell you! I saw their faces in the moonlight.
+I went to get some water. They are
+climbing up the cliff. I did not stop to count,
+but there must be many of them, from the
+sound of their feet. Oh, make haste, make
+haste!"</p>
+
+<p>The General gave his orders in a low, emphatic
+tone. Twenty men, with Carlos at
+their head, glided like shadows across the
+glade, and disappeared among the trees.
+Rita's breath came quick, and she prepared to
+follow; but the old General laid a kind hand
+on her arm. "No, my child!" he said.
+"You have done your country a great service
+this night. Do not imperil your life needlessly.
+Go rather to your room, and pray for
+your brother and for us all."</p>
+
+<p>But prayer was far from Rita's thoughts at
+that moment. "Dear General," she implored,
+with clasped hands, the tears starting to her
+eyes, "Let me go! let me go! I implore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+you! I will pray afterward, I truly will. I
+will pray while I am fighting, if you will
+only let me go. See! I have come all this
+way to fight for my country; and must I
+stay away from the first battle? Look, dear
+Se&ntilde;or General! Look at my machete! Isn't
+it beautiful? it is the sword of a hero; I must
+use it for him. Let me go!" The beautiful
+face, upturned in the moonlight, the dark eyes
+shining through their tears, might have softened
+a harder heart than that of General
+Sevillo. He opened his lips to reply, his
+fatherly hand still on her arm, when suddenly
+a sharp report was heard. A single
+shot, then a volley, the shots rattling out,
+struck back and forth from cliff to cliff, multiplying
+in hideous echoes. Then broke out
+cries and groans; the crash of heavy bodies
+falling back among the trees below, and
+shouts of "<i>Viva Cuba;</i>" and still the shots
+rang out, and still the echoes cracked and
+snapped. Rita turned pale as death, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+clasped her hands on her bosom. "<i>Ah!</i>
+<i>Dios!</i>" she cried. "I had forgotten; there
+will be blood!" and rushing into her hut, she
+flung herself face downward on her leafy bed.</p>
+
+<p>The perplexed General looked after her for
+a moment, pulling his grizzled moustache.
+"<i>Caramba!</i>" he muttered. "To understand
+these feminines? Decidedly, this charming
+child must be sent into safety to-morrow."
+And shaking his head and shrugging his
+shoulders, he strode in the direction of the
+firing.</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes' sharp fighting, and the skirmish
+was over. The Spanish "guerilla" was
+scattered, many of the guerilleros lying dead
+or wounded at the foot of the precipice, the
+others scrambling and tumbling down as best
+they might. Carlos and his men had so
+greatly the advantage in position, if not in
+numbers, that not a single Cuban was killed,
+though two or three were more or less seriously
+wounded. Among these was the un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>fortunate
+Pedro Valdez, who had only that
+evening returned to camp, having left his
+child and his old mother in a place of safety.
+His wife had been allowed to remain for
+a short time in camp, at the request of the
+surgeon, as she had had some experience in
+nursing. Now he was shot in the arm, and
+his comrades lifted him gently, and carried
+him back. His wife was waiting for him.
+She seemed to have expected something of
+the kind, for she made no outcry; she followed
+quietly to the clump of trees distant
+a little way from the rest of the camp, where
+good Doctor Ferrando had the solitary rancho,
+the case of surgical instruments and the few
+rolls of bandages that constituted his field
+hospital. A rough table had been knocked
+together for operations; otherwise the sick
+and wounded fared much as the rest did,
+sleeping on beds of leaves and dry grass, and
+fighting the mosquitoes as best they might.
+Here the bearers laid Pedro down, and Dolores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+took her place quietly at his side, fanning
+away the insects that hovered in clouds about
+the wounded man, holding the poor arm while
+the doctor dressed it, and behaving as if her
+life had been spent in a hospital.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Ferrando spoke a few words of approval,
+but the woman heeded them little; it
+was a matter of course that where there was
+suffering, she should be at work. So, when
+Pedro presently dropped off to sleep, she
+moved softly about among the wounded men,
+smoothing a blanket here, changing a ligature
+there, doing all with light, swift fingers whose
+touch healed instead of hurting.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting beside a lad, the last to be
+brought in from the scene of the skirmish,
+when the screen of bushes by the rancho
+was parted, and Rita appeared. Slowly and
+timidly she drew near; her face was like
+marble; her eyes looked unnaturally large
+and dark. Dolores made a motion to rise,
+but a gesture bade her keep her place.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the young girl. "Sit still,
+Dolores! I have come&mdash;to&mdash;to learn!"</p>
+
+<p>"To learn, se&ntilde;orita?" repeated the woman,
+humbly. The se&ntilde;orita was in her grateful
+eyes a heaven-descended being, whose every
+look and word must be law; this new bearing
+amazed and puzzled her.</p>
+
+<p>"What can this poor soul teach the noble
+and high-born lady?" she asked, sadly. "I
+know nothing, not even to read; I am a poor
+woman merely. The se&ntilde;or doctor is this
+moment gone to take his distinguished siesta;
+do I call him for the se&ntilde;orita?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita shook her head, and crept nearer,
+gazing with wide eyes of fear at the prostrate
+form beside which Dolores was sitting.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 271px;">
+<img src="images/gs04.png" width="271" height="400" alt="&quot;&#39;HUSH!&#39; SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. &#39;SIT STILL.&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;HUSH!&#39; SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. &#39;SIT STILL.&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;HUSH!&#39; SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. &#39;SIT STILL.&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"See, Dolores!" she said; and her tone
+was as humble as the woman's own. "I
+must learn&mdash;to take care of him&mdash;of them!"
+She nodded at the sufferer. "All my life,
+you see, I could never bear the sight of blood.
+To cut my finger, I fainted at the instant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+Always they said, 'Poor child! it is her
+delicacy, her sensibility;' they praised me;
+I thought it a fine thing, to faint, to turn
+pale at the word even. Now&mdash;oh, Dolores, do
+you see? I desire to help my country, my
+brother, all the heroes who are risking their life,
+are shedding their&mdash;their blood&mdash;for Cuba.
+I think I can fight; I forget; I see only the
+bright shining blades, the victorious banners; I
+forget that these heroes must bleed, that this
+horrible blood must flow in streams, in torrents,
+that oceans of it must overwhelm us,
+the defenders of my country. <i>Ay de mi!</i> I
+begged the General even now to let me fight,
+to let me stand beside my Carlos, and wield
+my beautiful machete. Suddenly, Dolores&mdash;I
+heard the shots; I heard&mdash;terrible sounds!
+screams&mdash;oh, Dios!&mdash;screams of men, perhaps
+of my own brother, in anguish. All at
+once it came over me&mdash;I cannot tell you&mdash;I
+saw it all, the blood, the wounds, the horror
+to death. I awoke from my dreams; I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+a child, do you see, Dolores? I was a child,
+playing at war, and thinking&mdash;thinking the
+thoughts of a silly, silly child. Now I am
+awake; now I know&mdash;what&mdash;what war
+means. So&mdash;I am foolish, but I can learn;
+I think I can learn. You are a brave woman;
+I have been watching you through the leaves
+for half an hour. I saw you&mdash;I saw you
+change those cloths; those terrible bloody
+cloths on that poor man's head. At first my
+eyes turned round, I saw black only; but I
+opened them again, I fixed them on what you
+held, I watched. Now I can bear quite well
+to look at it. Help me, Dolores! teach me&mdash;to
+help as you help; teach me to care for
+these brothers, as you do."</p>
+
+<p>Dolores looked earnestly in the beautiful
+young face. In spite of the deadly pallor, she
+saw that the girl was fully herself, was calm
+and determined. With a simple, noble gesture
+she lifted Rita's slender hand to her lips,
+saying merely: "This hand shall bring bless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>ing
+to many! come, my se&ntilde;orita, and see!
+it is so easy, when once one knows the way
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>Very gently the poor peasant's wife showed
+the rich man's daughter the A B C of woman's
+work among the sick and suffering. At first
+Rita could do little more than control her
+own nerves, and fight down the faintness that
+came creeping over her at sight of the bandaged
+faces, ghastly under the brown, of the
+torn flesh and nerveless limbs. Gradually,
+however, she began to gain strength. The
+rough brown hand moved so easily, so lightly;
+it laid hold of those terrible bandages as if
+they were mere ordinary bits of linen. Surely
+now, she, Rita, could do that too. As Dolores
+took a cloth from her husband's head, the
+girl's hand was outstretched, took it quietly,
+and handed a fresh one to the nurse. The
+cloth she took was covered with red stains.
+For a moment Rita's head swam, and the
+world seemed to turn dark before her eyes;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+but she held the thing firmly, till her sight
+cleared again; then dropped it in the tub of
+water that stood ready, and taking up the
+fan of green palm-leaf, swept it steadily to
+and fro, driving the clouds of flies and mosquitoes
+away from the sufferer.</p>
+
+<p>Coming back from his siesta half an hour
+later, good Doctor Ferrando paused a moment
+at the entrance of the hospital grove. There
+were two nurses now; the good man gazed in
+astonishment at the slender figure kneeling
+beside one of the rough cots, fanning the
+wounded man, and singing in a low, sweet
+voice, a song of Cuba. Several of the men
+were awake, and gazing at her with delight.
+Dolores, with a look of quiet happiness on
+her face, sat beside the bed where her husband
+was sleeping peacefully. "Come!"
+said the doctor, "war, after all, has its beauty
+as well as its terror. Observe this heavenly
+sight, you benevolent saints!" he waved his
+cigar upward, inviting the attention of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+attendant spirits. "Consider this lovely child,
+awakened to the holiness of womanhood!
+and the General will destroy all this to-morrow,
+from respect for worldly conventions!
+He is without doubt right; yet, what
+a pity!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CAMP SCENE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"If I must, dear Se&ntilde;or General&mdash;I will be
+good, I will, indeed; but my heart will break
+to leave Carlos, and the camp, and you, Se&ntilde;or
+General."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child,&mdash;my dear young lady,
+what pleasure for me to keep you here! the
+first sunshine of the war, it came with you,
+Se&ntilde;orita Margarita. Nevertheless, duty is
+duty; I should be wanting in mine, most wofully
+and wickedly wanting, if I allowed you
+to remain here, in hourly danger, when a few
+hours could place you in comparative safety.
+Perfect safety, I do not promise. Where
+shall we find it, even for our nearest and
+dearest, in this poor distracted country? But
+with Don Annunzio and his family you will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+be safe at least for a time; whereas here&mdash;"
+The General looked around, and shrugged
+his shoulders, spreading his hands out with
+a dramatic gesture. "The Gringos have
+learned the way to our mountain camp; they
+will not forget it. Another attack may come
+any night; our camp is an outpost, placed of
+purpose to guard this position, which must
+of necessity be one of danger. To have women
+with us&mdash;it is not only exposing them to the
+terrible possibilities of war, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He paused. "I see!" cried Rita. "I see!
+you are too kind to say it, but we are a
+burden upon you. We make harder the
+work; we are an encumbrance. Dear Se&ntilde;or
+General, I go! I fly! Give me half, a quarter
+of an hour, and I am gone. Never, never,
+will I be in the way of my country's defenders;
+never! Too long we have stayed
+already; Manuela shall make on the instant
+our packets, and in a little hour you shall
+forget that we were here at all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The good General cried out, "No! no! my
+dear child, my dear se&ntilde;orita; cease these
+words, I implore you. You cut me to the
+heart. Consider the help that you have
+brought to us; consider the nursing, the tender
+care that you and the wife of Valdez have
+given to our sufferers, in the rancho there.
+Never will this be forgotten, rest assured
+of that. But&mdash;it is true that you must go;
+yet not too soon. This evening, when the
+coolness falls, Don Carlos, with a chosen
+escort, will conduct you to the residence of
+Don Annunzio. There, I rejoice to think
+that you will find, not luxury, but at least
+some few of the comforts of ordinary life.
+Here you have suffered; your lofty spirit
+will not confess it, but you have&mdash;you must
+have suffered, delicate and fragile as you are,
+in the rough life of a Cuban camp. Enough!
+The day is before you, dearest se&ntilde;orita. I
+pray you, while it lasts, make use of me, of
+all that the camp contains, in whatever way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+you can imagine. I would make the day a
+pleasant one, if I might. Command me, dear
+se&ntilde;orita, in anything and everything. The
+camp is yours, with all it contains."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed with courtly grace, and Rita
+courtsied and then turned quickly away, to
+hide the tears that would come in spite of
+her. It was a keen disappointment. When
+Carlos told her that morning that she must
+leave the camp, she had refused pointblank.
+A stormy scene followed, in which the old
+Rita was only too much in evidence. She
+raged, she wept, she stamped her little foot.
+She was a Cuban, as much as he was; she
+was a nurse, a daughter of the army; no
+human power should drive her from the
+ground where she was prepared to shed her
+last drop of blood for the defenders of her
+country. Now&mdash;a few kind, grave words
+from a gray-haired man, and all was changed.
+She was not a necessity, she was a hindrance;
+she saw that this must be so; the pain was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+sharp, but she would not show it; she would
+never again lose her self-control, never. Carlos
+should see that she was no longer a child.
+He had called her a child, not half an hour
+ago, a naughty child, who was making trouble
+for everybody. Well&mdash;Rita stood still; the
+thought came over her suddenly,&mdash;it was true!
+she had been childish, had been naughty.
+Suppose Margaret or Peggy should behave
+so, stamping and storming; how would it
+seem? Oh, well, that was different. Their
+blood was cool, almost cold. It flowed sluggishly
+in their veins. She was a child of
+the South; it was not to be expected that she
+should be like Margaret. Yes! but&mdash;the
+thought would come, troubling all her mind;
+suppose Margaret were here, with her calm
+sense, her cheerful face, and tranquil voice;
+would not she be of more use, of more help,
+than a girl who could not help screaming
+when she was in a passion?</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts were new to Rita Montfort.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+Full of them, she walked slowly to her hut,
+with bent head, and eyes full of unshed tears.
+Meanwhile, the good General went back to
+his tent, where Carlos awaited him with some
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" he asked, as the gray head bent
+under the tent-flaps.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," responded his commander. "It
+is very well, my son. The se&ntilde;orita&mdash;she is
+adorable, do you know it? Never have I seen
+a more lovely young person! The se&ntilde;orita
+is most reasonable. She comprehends; she
+understands the desolation that it is to me
+to send away so delightful a visitor;
+nevertheless&mdash;she accepts all, with her own
+exquisite grace."</p>
+
+<p>Carlos shrugged his shoulders; that same
+exquisite grace had flashed a dagger in his
+eyes not ten minutes before, vowing that
+it should be sheathed in the owner's heart
+before she left the camp; but it was not
+necessary to say this to the General. Carlos<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+was an affectionate brother, and was honestly
+relieved and glad to find that Rita had come
+to her senses. He thanked General Sevillo
+warmly for his good offices, and, being off
+duty, went in search of his sister, determining
+that he would make her last day in camp a
+pleasant one, so far as lay in his power. He
+found Rita sitting sadly in the door of her
+hut, watching Manuela, who was packing
+up their belongings, unwillingly enough.
+Manuela had enjoyed her stay in camp
+greatly, and thought life would be very dull,
+in comparison, at Don Annunzio's cottage;
+but there was no escape, and the white silk
+blouse and the swansdown wrapper went into
+the bag with all the other fineries.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Rita," said Carlos, taking his sister's
+hand affectionately; "come with me,
+and let me show you some things that you
+have not yet seen. You must not forget the
+camp. Who knows? Some day you may
+come back to pay us a visit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Rita shook her head, and the tears came to
+her eyes again; but she drove them back
+bravely, and smiled, and laid her hand in her
+brother's; and they passed out together
+among the palm-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Manuela looked after them, and laid her
+hand on her heart; it was a gesture that she
+had often seen her mistress use, and it
+seemed to her infinitely touching and beautiful.
+"<i>Ohim&eacute;</i>," sighed Manuela. "War is terrible,
+indeed! To think that we must go
+away, just when we are so comfortable. But
+where, then, is this idiot? Pepe! When I
+call you, will you come, animal? Pepe!"</p>
+
+<p>The thicket near the rancho rustled and
+shook, and Pepe appeared. This young man
+presented a different figure from the forlorn
+one that had greeted the two girls on their
+first arrival at the camp. His curly hair was
+now carefully brushed and oiled. The scarlet
+handkerchief was still tied about his
+head, but it was tied now with a grace that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+might have done credit to the most dandified
+matador in the Havana ring. His jacket was
+neatly mended; altogether, Pepe was once
+more a self-respecting, even a
+self-admiring youth. Also, he admired Manuela
+immensely, and lost no opportunity of telling
+that she was the light of his eyes and
+the flower of his soul. He was now beginning
+some remarks of this description, but
+Manuela interrupted him, laying her pretty
+brown hand unceremoniously on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"For once, Pepe, endeavour to possess a
+small portion of sense," she said. "Listen
+to me! We must leave the camp."</p>
+
+<p>"How then, marrow of my bones! Leave
+the camp? You and I?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am speaking to a monkey, then, instead
+of a man? The use, I ask you, of addressing
+intelligent remarks to such a corporosity?
+My mistress and I, simpleton. This General
+of yours drives us from his quarters; he
+begrudges the morsel we eat, the rude hut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+that shelters us. Enough! we go; even now
+I make preparation. Pull this strap for me,
+Pepe; at least you have strength. Ah! If
+I were but a great stupid man, it would be
+well with me this day!"</p>
+
+<p>"But well for no one else, my idol," said
+Pepe, tugging away at the strap. "Desolation
+and despair for the rest of mankind, Rose
+of the Antilles. Accidental death to this
+bag! why have you filled it so full? There!
+it is strapped. Manuela, is it possible that I
+live without you? No! I shall fall an easy
+victim to the first fever that comes; already
+I feel it scorching my&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a paralysis upon you! Can I exercise
+my thoughts, with the chatter of a parrot
+in my ears? Attend, then, Pepe,&mdash;you will
+miss me a little, will you? Just a very
+little?"</p>
+
+<p>Pepe opened his mouth for new and fiery
+protestations, but was bidden peremptorily to
+shut it again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I desire now to hear myself speak," said
+Manuela. "I weary, Pepe, for the sound of
+my own poor little voice. Listen, then! These
+days I have been here, and you have never
+asked me what I brought with me for you;
+brought all that cruel way from the city. I
+knew I should find you somewhere, my good
+Pepe; or, if not you, some other friend,
+some other good son of Cuba. I thought
+of you, I remembered you, even in the
+rush of our departure. See! It is yours.
+May it bring you fortune!"</p>
+
+<p>She handed him a little packet, neatly
+folded in white paper, and tied with a
+crimson ribbon. Receiving it with
+dramatic eagerness, Pepe opened it and
+looked with delight at its contents.</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>detente!</i>" he cried. "Manuela! and
+the most beautiful that has been seen upon
+the earth. This is not for me! No! Impossible!
+The General alone is worthy to wear
+this object of an elegance so resplendent."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Reassured on this point, he proceeded to
+pin the emblem on his jacket, and
+contemplated it with delighted pride. It
+was a simple thing enough; a square of white
+flannel the size of an ordinary needlebook,
+neatly scalloped around the edge with white
+silk. In the centre was embroidered a crimson
+heart, and under it the words, "<i>Detente!
+pienso en ti!</i>" ("Be of good cheer! I think
+of thee!")</p>
+
+<p>"And did you really think of me, Manuela?"
+cried the delighted Pepe. "Did you,
+bright and gay, in the splendid city, think of
+the lonely soldier?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I did," said Manuela, "when I
+had nothing else to do. And now you may
+go away, Pepe, I am busy; I cannot attend
+to you any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Pepe, bewildered, "you called
+me, Manuela."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; to strap my bag. It is done; I
+thank you. It is finished."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And&mdash;you have given me the <i>detente</i>,
+moon of my soul!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you cannot complain that I never
+gave you anything. And now I give you
+one thing more,&mdash;leave to depart. <i>Adios,</i>
+Don Pepe!" and she actually shut the door
+of the hut in the face of her astonished adorer,
+who departed muttering strange things concerning
+the changeableness of all women, and
+of Manuela in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Rita and Carlos were wandering
+about the camp, and Rita was seeing, as her
+brother promised, some things that were new
+to her, even after a stay of nearly a week.
+She saw the kitchen, or what passed for a
+kitchen,&mdash;a pleasant spot under a palm-tree,
+where the cook was even then toasting long
+strips of meat over the <i>parilla</i>, a kind of
+gridiron, made by simply driving four stakes,
+and laying bits of wood across and across
+them, then lighting a fire beneath.</p>
+
+<p>"But why does it not burn up, your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+<i>parilla?</i>" asked Rita of the long, lean, coffee-coloured
+soldier, picturesque and ragged, who
+was turning the strips with a forked stick.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, gracious se&ntilde;orita, it does burn
+up; not the first time, nor perhaps the second,
+but without doubt the third."</p>
+
+<p>"And then?"</p>
+
+<p>"And then,&mdash;it is but to build another.
+An affair of a moment, se&ntilde;orita."</p>
+
+<p>"But does not the meat often fall into the
+fire when it breaks?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sufficiently often, most noble. What of
+that? It imparts a flavour of its own; one
+brushes off the ashes&mdash;soldiers do not dine
+at the Hotel Royal, one must observe. May
+I offer the se&ntilde;orita a bit of this excellent
+beef? This has not fallen down at all, or at
+most but once, one little time."</p>
+
+<p>Rita thanked him, but was not hungry.
+At least she would have a cup of <i>guarapo</i>,
+the hospitable cook begged; and he hastened
+to bring her a cup of polished cocoanut shell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+filled with the favourite drink, which was
+simply hot water with sugar dissolved in it.
+Rita took the cup graciously, and drank to
+the health of the camp, and to the freedom of
+Cuba; the cook responded with many bows
+and profuse thanks for the honour she had
+done him, and the brother and sister passed
+on.</p>
+
+<p>"There are some good bananas near here,"
+said Carlos; "little red ones, the kind you
+like, Rita. I'll fill a basket for you to take
+with you; Don Annunzio's may not be so
+good."</p>
+
+<p>They were making their way through a
+tangle of tall grass and young palm-trees,
+when suddenly Rita stopped, and laid her
+hand on her brother's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Look!" she said. "Look yonder, Carlos!
+The grass moves."</p>
+
+<p>"A snake, perhaps," said Carlos; "or a
+land-crab. Stand here a moment, and I will
+go forward and see."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He advanced, looking keenly at the clump
+of yellowish grass that Rita had pointed out.
+Certainly, the grass did move. It quivered,
+waved from side to side, then seemed to
+settle down, as if an invisible hand were
+pulling it from below. Carlos drew his
+machete, and bent forward; whereupon a
+loud yell was heard, and the clump of grass
+shot up into the air, revealing a black face,
+and a pair of rolling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" cried Rita, in terror. "Carlos,
+come back to me! It is a devil!"</p>
+
+<p>"Only a scout!" said her brother, laughing.
+"One of our own men on outpost duty. Have
+peace, Pablo! your hour is not yet come."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Caramba!</i> I thought it was, my captain!"
+said the negro scout, grinning. "Better
+be a crab than a Cuban in these days."</p>
+
+<p>He was a singular figure indeed. From
+head to waist he was literally clothed in grass,
+bunches of it being tied over his head and
+round his neck and shoulders, falling to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+thighs. A pair of ragged trousers of no
+particular colour completed his costume. A
+more perfect disguise could not be imagined;
+indeed, except when he lifted his head, he
+was not to be distinguished from the clumps
+and tufts of dry grass all about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Pablo is a good scout!" said Carlos, approvingly.
+"No Gringo could possibly see you
+till he stepped on you, Pablo; and then&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And then!" said Pablo, grinning from
+ear to ear; and he drew his machete and
+went through an expressive pantomime which,
+if carried out, would certainly have left very
+little of Gringo or any one else.</p>
+
+<p>"Is your post near here? show it! The
+se&ntilde;orita would like to see how a Cuban scout
+lives."</p>
+
+<p>Pablo, a man of few words, gave a pleased
+nod, and scuttled away through the bush,
+beckoning them to follow. Rita, stepping
+carefully along, holding her brother's hand,
+kept her eyes on the scout for a few moments;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+then he seemed to melt into the rest of the
+grass, and was gone. A few steps more, and
+they almost fell over him, as his black face
+popped up again, shaking back its grassy
+fringes.</p>
+
+<p>"Behold the domicile of Pablo!" he said,
+with a magnificent gesture. "The property,
+with all it contains, of the se&ntilde;orita and the
+Se&ntilde;or Captain Don Carlos."</p>
+
+<p>Brother and sister tried to look becomingly
+impressed as they surveyed the domain.
+Close under a waving palm-tree a rag of
+brown canvas was stretched on two sticks
+laid across upright branches stuck in the
+ground. Under this awning was space for a
+man to sit, or even to lie down, if he did not
+mind his feet being in the sun. A small iron
+pot, hung on three sticks over some blackened
+stones, showed where the householder
+did his cooking; a heap of leaves and grass
+answered for bed and pillows; this was the
+domicile of Pablo.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Breaking a twig from a neighbouring
+shrub, the scout bent over the pot, and
+speared a plantain, which he offered to Rita
+with grave courtesy. She took it with equal
+dignity, thanking him with her most gracious
+smile, and ate it daintily, praising its flavour
+and the perfection of its cooking till the
+good negro's face shone with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"And you stay here alone, Pablo?" she
+asked. "How long? you are not afraid?
+No, of course not that; you are a soldier.
+But lonely! is it not very lonely here, at
+night above all?"</p>
+
+<p>Pablo spread out his hands. "Se&ntilde;orita,
+possibly&mdash;if it were not for the crabs.
+These good souls&mdash;they have the disposition
+of a Christian!&mdash;sit with me, in the intervals
+of their occupations, and are excellent
+company. They cannot talk, but that suits
+me very well. Then, there is always the
+chance of some one coming by&mdash;as to-day,
+when the Blessed Virgin sends the se&ntilde;orita<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+and the Se&ntilde;or Don Carlos. Also at any
+moment the devil may send me a Gringo;
+their scouts are as plenty as scorpions. No,
+se&ntilde;orita, I am not lonely. It is a fine life!
+In a prison, you see, it would be quite otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>"But there are other ways of living,
+Pablo, beside scouting and going to prison,"
+said Rita, much amused.</p>
+
+<p>"Without doubt! Without doubt!" said
+Pablo, cheerfully. "And assuredly neither
+would befit the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'senorita'">se&ntilde;orita</ins>. May she live as
+happy as she is beautiful, the sun being black
+beside her. <i>Adios</i>, se&ntilde;orita; <i>adios</i>, Se&ntilde;or
+Captain Don Carlos!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Adios</i>, good Pablo! good luck to you
+and your crabs!" and laughing and waving
+a salute, they left the scout nodding his
+grass-crowned head like a transformed mandarin,
+and went back to the camp.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PACIFICOS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A long, low adobe house, brilliantly white
+with plaster; a verandah with swinging hammocks;
+the inevitable green blinds; the inevitable
+cane and banana patch; this was
+Don Annunzio's. Don Annunzio Carreno
+himself (to give him his full name for once,
+though he seldom heard or used it) sat in a
+large rocking-chair on the verandah, smoking.
+He was enormously stout and supremely
+placid, and he looked the picture of peace and
+prosperity, in his spotless white suit and
+broad-brimmed hat.</p>
+
+<p>To Rita, weary after her ten miles' ride
+from the camp, the whole place seemed a
+page out of a picture-book. Her mind was
+filled with rugged and startling images: the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+rude hospital, with its ghastly sights and
+homely though devoted tendance; the ragged
+soldiers, with head or arm bound in bloody
+bandages; the camp fire and kitchen, the
+scout in his grassy panoply. Her eyes had
+grown accustomed to sights like these, and
+the bright whiteness of house and householder,
+the trim array of flower-beds and
+kitchen-garden, struck her as strange and artificial.
+She felt as if Don Annunzio ought to
+be wound up from behind, and was whimsically
+surprised to see him rise and come
+forward to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>Carlos made his explanation, and presented
+General Sevillo's letter. Don Annunzio's hat
+was already in his hand and he was bowing
+to Rita with all the grace his size allowed;
+but now he implored them to enter the house,
+which he declared he occupied henceforward
+only at their pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"If the se&ntilde;orita will graciously descend!"
+said the good man. "On the instant I call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+my wife. Prudencia! Where are you, then?
+Visitors, Prudencia; visitors of distinction.
+Hasten quickly!"</p>
+
+<p>A woman appeared in the doorway; tall
+and lean, clad in brown calico, with a sun-bonnet
+to match, but with apron and kerchief
+as snowy as Don Annunzio's "ducks."</p>
+
+<p>"For the land's sake!" said Se&ntilde;ora Carreno.</p>
+
+<p>Rita looked up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Visitors, my love!" Don Annunzio explained
+rapidly, in good enough English.
+"The Se&ntilde;or Captain and the Se&ntilde;orita Montfort,
+bringing a note from his Excellency
+General Sevillo. The se&ntilde;orita will remain
+with us for some days; I have placed all at
+her disposal; I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There, Noonsey!" said the lady, not
+unkindly. "You set down, and let me see
+what's goin' on."</p>
+
+<p>She laid a powerful hand on her husband's
+shoulder, and pushed him into his chair again;
+then advanced to the verandah steps, regard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>ing
+the newcomers with frank but cheerful
+scrutiny.</p>
+
+<p>"What's all this?" she said. "Good
+mornin'! Yes, it's a fine day. Won't you
+step in?"</p>
+
+<p>Carlos told his story, and asked permission
+for his sister and her maid to spend some
+days at the house until some permanent place
+could be found for her.</p>
+
+<p>The se&ntilde;ora considered with frowning brows,
+not of anger but of consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "I did say I wouldn't
+take no more boarders. I had trouble with
+the last ones, and said I'd got through accommodatin'
+folks. Still&mdash;I dunno but we could
+manage&mdash;does she understand when she's
+spoke to&mdash;English, I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, I do!" cried Rita, coming
+forward. "I am only half Cuban; it is good
+to hear you speak. If you will let me stay,
+I will try to give little trouble. May I stay,
+please?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, I guess you may!" cried the New
+England woman. "You walk right in and
+lay off your things, and make yourself to
+home. The idea! Why didn't you say&mdash;why,
+it's as good as a meal o' victuals to hear you
+speak. Been to the States, have you? Well,
+now, if that don't beat all! Noonsey, you
+go and tell Jos&eacute; we shall want them chickens
+for supper. Set down, young man! This
+your hired gal, dear? Does she speak English?
+Well no, I s'pose not."</p>
+
+<p>She said a few words to Manuela in Spanish
+which, if not melodious, was intelligible, and
+then led Rita into the house, talking all the
+way.</p>
+
+<p>"Here's the settin'-room; and here's the
+spare-room off'n it. There! lay your things
+on the bed, dear. I keep on talkin', when
+all the time I want to hear you talk. It is
+good to hear your native speech, say what
+they will. Husband, he does his best, to
+please me; but it's like as though he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+speakin' molasses, some way. Been in the
+States to school, did you say?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita told her story: of her American father,
+who had always spoken English with her and
+her brother; of the summer spent in the
+North with her uncle and cousins. "Oh,"
+she said, "you are right. I used to think
+that I was two-thirds Cuban; I thought I
+cared little, little, for the American part of
+me. Now&mdash;but it is music to hear you
+speak, Se&ntilde;ora Carreno."</p>
+
+<p>"S'pose you call me Marm Prudence!"
+said the good woman, half-shyly. "I don't
+see as 'twould be any harm, and I should
+like dretful well to hear the name again. I
+was a widow when I married Don Noonzio.
+Yes'm. My first husband was captain of a
+fruit schooner. I voyaged with him considerable.
+He died in Santiago, and I never
+went back home: I couldn't seem to. I
+washed and sewed for families I knew, and
+then bumbye I married Don Noonzio. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+gave me a good home, and he's a good provider.
+There's times, though, that I'm terrible
+homesick. There! I don't know what I
+should do if 'twa'n't for my settin'-room.
+Did you notice it, comin' through? I just
+go there and set sometimes, and look round,
+and cry. It does me a sight o' good."</p>
+
+<p>Rita had indeed glanced around the sitting-room
+as she passed through it, but it said
+nothing to her. The six haircloth chairs,
+the marble-topped centre-table with its wool
+and bead mat, its glass lamp with the red
+wick, its photograph-album and gilt family
+Bible, did not speak her language. Neither
+did the mantelpiece, with its two china
+poodles and its bunches of dried grasses in
+vases of red and white Bohemian glass. The
+Cuban girl could not know how eloquent
+were all these things to the exiled Vermont
+woman; but she looked sympathetic, and felt
+so, her heart warming to the homely soul,
+with her rugged speech and awkward gestures.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence now insisted that her guest
+must be tired, and brought out a superb quilt,
+powdered with red and blue stars, to tuck
+her up under; but word came that Captain
+Montfort was going, and Rita hurried out to
+the verandah to bid him farewell. Carlos took
+her in his arms, affectionately. "How is it,
+then, little sister?" he asked. "Are you
+reconciled at all? Can you stay here in peace
+a little, with these good people?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita returned his caress heartily. "You
+were right, Carlos!" she said. "You and
+the dear General were both right. It was
+wonderful to be there in camp; I shall never
+forget it; I hope I shall be better all my life
+for it; but I could not have stayed long, I
+see that now. Here I shall be taken care of;
+here I shall rest, as under a grandmother's
+care. This good Marm Prudence,&mdash;that is
+what I am to call her, Carlos,&mdash;already I
+love her, already she tends me as a bird tends
+her young. Ah, Carlos, you will not neglect<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+Chico? I leave him as a sacred legacy. The
+men implored me so. They said the bird had
+brought them good fortune once, and would
+be their salvation again; I had not the heart
+to take him from them. You will see that
+they do not feed him too much? Already
+he has had a fit of illness from too much
+kindness on the part of our faithful soldiers.
+Thank you! and have no thought of me, my
+brother; all will be well with me. Return
+to your glorious duty, son of Cuba. It may
+be that even here, in this peaceful spot, it
+may be given to your Rita to serve the
+mother we both adore. <i>Adios</i>, Carlos! Heaven
+be with thee!"</p>
+
+<p>Carlos, who was of a practical turn of mind,
+was always uncomfortable when Rita spread
+her rhetorical wings. He did not see why
+she could not speak plain English. But he
+kissed her affectionately, heartily glad that
+he could leave her content with her surroundings;
+and with a cordial farewell to the good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
+people of the house, he rode away, followed
+by his clanking orderlies, leading the horse
+Rita had ridden.</p>
+
+<p>While all this had been going on, Manuela
+had been arranging her mistress's things;
+shaking out the crumpled dresses, brushing
+off the bits of grass and broken straw that
+clung to hem and ruffle, mementoes of the
+days in camp. Manuela sighed over these
+relics, and shook her head mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Pepe!" she said. "If only he does
+not fall into a fever from grief! Ah, love
+is a terrible thing! <i>Dios!</i> what a rent in
+the se&ntilde;orita's serge skirt! A paralysis on the
+brambles in that place! yet it was a good
+place. At least there was life. One heard
+voices, neighing of horses, jingling of stirrups.
+Here we shall grow into two young cabbages
+beside that old one, my se&ntilde;orita and her poor
+Manuela. Ah, life is very sad!"</p>
+
+<p>Here Manuela chanced to look out of the
+window, and saw a handsome Creole boy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+leading a horse to water in the courtyard. Instantly
+her face lighted up. She flew to the
+looking-glass, and was arranging her hair
+with passionate eagerness, when the door
+opened, and Rita entered, followed by their
+kind hostess. Manuela started, then turned
+to drop a demure courtsey. "I was examining
+the glass," she explained, "to see if it
+was fit for the se&ntilde;orita to use. These common
+mirrors, you understand, they draw the countenance
+this way, that way,&mdash;" she expressed
+her meaning in vivid pantomime,&mdash;"one
+thinks one's visage of caoutchouc. But this
+is passable; I assure you, se&ntilde;orita, passable."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I declare!" said Marm Prudence.
+"My best looking-glass, that I brought from
+Chelsea, Massachusetts, when I was first
+married! If it ain't good enough for you,
+young woman, you're free to do without it,
+and so I tell you."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with some severity, but softened
+instantly as she turned to Rita. "Now you'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+lie down and rest you a spell, won't you, dear?"
+she said. "I must go and see about supper,
+and I sha'n't be satisfied till I see you tucked
+up under my 'Old Glory spread.' That's what
+I call it; it has the colours, you see. There!
+comfortable? Now you shut your pretty eyes,
+and have a good sleep. And you," she added,
+turning to Manuela, "can come and help me
+a spell, if you've nothing better to do. I'm
+short-handed; help is turrible skurce in war-time,
+and I can keep you out of Satan's hands,
+if nothing else."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN HIDING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You busy, Miss Margaritty?"</p>
+
+<p>It was Marm Prudence's voice, and at the
+sound Rita opened her door quickly. She
+and Manuela had been holding a mournful
+consultation over the state of her wardrobe,
+which had had rough usage during the past
+two weeks, and she was glad of an interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought mebbe you'd like to come and
+set with me a spell while I worked."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" cried Rita, eagerly. "And
+may I not work, too? Isn't there something
+I can do to help?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I should be pleased!" said the
+good woman. "I'm braidin' hats for the
+soldiers. I promised a dozen to-morrow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+night. It's pretty work; mebbe you'd like
+to try."</p>
+
+<p>"For the soldiers? For our soldiers? Oh,
+what joy, Marm Prudencia! No, Prudence,
+you like better that. Show me, please! I
+burn to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you're real eager, ain't you?" said
+Marm Prudence. "Now I'm glad I spoke;
+I thought mebbe 'twould suit you. Young
+folks like to be at something."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes the two were seated on
+the cool inner verandah, looking out on the
+garden, with a great basket between them,
+heaped with delicate strips of palmetto leaf,
+white and smooth.</p>
+
+<p>"Husband, he whittles 'em for me," Marm
+Prudence explained. "It's occupation for
+him. Fleshy as he is, he can't get about
+none too much, and this keeps his hands
+busy. It's hard to be a man and lose the
+activity of your limbs. But there! there's
+compensations, I always say. If Noonsey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+was as he was ten years ago, he'd be off with
+the rest, and then where'd I be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then"&mdash;Rita's eyes flashed, and she bent
+nearer her hostess, and spoke low. "Then
+you are not at heart <i>pacificos</i>, Marm Prudence.
+On the surface, I understand, I comprehend,
+it is necessary; but <i>au fond</i>, in your
+secret hearts, you are with us; you are Cubans.
+Is it not so? It must be so!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, land, yes!" said Marm Prudence,
+composedly. "I'm an American, you see;
+and husband, he's a Cuban five generations
+back. We don't have no dealin's with the
+Gringos, more than we're obleeged to. Livin'
+right close t' the road as we do, we can't let
+out the way we feel, but I guess there's
+mighty few Mambis about here but knows
+where to come when they want things.
+There ain't many so bold as your brother,
+to come in open daylight, but come night,
+they're often as thick as bats about the
+garden here. There! I have to shoo' em<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+off sometimes; yet I like to have 'em,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>Rita's face glowed with excitement. "Oh,
+Marm Prudence," she cried; "how glorious!
+Oh, what fortune, what joy, to be here with
+you! We will work together; we will toil;
+our blood shall flow in fountains, if it is
+needed. Embrace me, mother of Cuba!"</p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence put on her spectacles, and
+surveyed the excited girl with some anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me feel your pult, dear!" she said,
+soothingly. "You got a touch o' sun, like as
+not, riding in that heat this morning. Now
+there's no call to get worked up, or talk
+about blood-sheddin'. Blood-sheddin' ain't in
+our line, yours nor mine, nor husband's
+neither. Fur as doin' goes, we're all <i>pacificos</i>
+here, Miss Margaritty, and you mustn't forget
+that. Just wait a minute, and I'll go
+and git you a cup of my balm-tea; 'tis real
+steadyin' to the nerves, and I expect yours is
+strung up some with all you've be'n through."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Rita protested that she was perfectly well,
+and not at all excited; but she submitted,
+and drank the balm-tea meekly, as it was
+cold and refreshing.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my ardent nature!" she explained.
+"It is the fire of my patriotism which
+consumes me. Do you not feel it, Marm
+Prudence, oftentimes, like a flame in your
+bosom?"</p>
+
+<p>No, Marm Prudence was not aware that
+she did. Things took folks different, she
+said, placidly. She had an aunt when she was
+a little gal, that used to have spasms reg'lar
+every time she heard the baker's cart. Some
+thought she had had hopes of the baker before
+he married a widow woman, but you
+couldn't always account for these things.
+What a pretty braid Rita was getting!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/gs05.png" width="600" height="399" alt="&quot;&#39;WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Indeed, the work suited Rita's nimble fingers
+to perfection, and yard after yard of
+snowy braid rolled over her lap and grew
+into a pile at her feet. She was eager to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+make her first hat. After an hour or two
+of braiding, she discovered that it suited
+Manuela's genius better than her own. The
+basket of splints was turned over to the willing
+handmaiden, and good-natured Marm
+Prudence showed Rita how to sew the braids
+together smooth and flat, and initiated her
+into the mysteries of crown and brim. In
+a creditably short space of time, Rita, with
+infinite pride, held her first hat aloft, and
+twirled it round and round on her finger.</p>
+
+<p>"But, it is perfect!" she cried. "The
+shape, the colour, the air of it. Manuela,
+quick! a mirror! hold it for me&mdash;so! look!"
+She took the ribbon from her belt, and began
+to twist it in one coquettish knot after another
+about the hat, which she had set on her dark
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that <i>chic?</i> Is it adorable, I ask you?
+Was such a hat ever seen in Paris? Never!
+I wear no other from this day on; hear me
+swear it! It will become the rage; I will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+make it so. Or&mdash;no! I will keep to myself the
+secret, and others will die of envy. I name
+it, Manuela. The Prudencia, for thee, my
+kind hostess. Why do you laugh?"</p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence was twinkling in her quiet
+way. "I was only thinkin' there'd have to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: this word not present in the original">be</ins>
+one soldier boy go without his hat to-morrow!"
+she said, good-humouredly. "It does
+look nice on you, though, Miss Margaritty,
+that's certin."</p>
+
+<p>Blushing scarlet, Rita tore the hat from
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she cried, casting it on the floor.
+"Wretch, ingrate, <i>serpent</i> that I am! Take
+away the glass, girl! take it away; break it
+into a thousand pieces, to shame my vanity,
+and never speak to me of hats again. Henceforward
+I tie a shawl over my head, for the
+remainder of my life; I have said it."</p>
+
+<p>Much depressed, she worked away in silence,
+as if her life depended upon it. Manuela,
+shrugging her shoulders, carried off the glass,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+but did not think it necessary to obey the
+injunction to break it. She was used to her
+se&ntilde;orita's outbreaks, and returned placidly
+to her braiding as if nothing had happened.</p>
+
+<p>The good hostess regarded her pretty
+visitor with some alarm, mingled with amusement
+and admiration. She might have her
+hands full, she thought, if she attempted to
+keep this young lady occupied, and out of
+mischief. The time when she was asleep
+was likely to be the most peaceful time in
+Casa Annunzio. Yet how pretty she was!
+and what a pleasure it was to hear her speak,
+something between a bird and a flute. On
+the whole, Marm Prudence thought her coming
+a thing to be thankful for.</p>
+
+<p>Talking with Don Annunzio himself that
+evening, Rita found him far less guarded
+than his wife in his expression of patriotic
+zeal. He echoed her saying, that every
+Mambi in the country knew where to come
+when he wanted anything; and he went on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+to draw lurid pictures of what he would do
+to the Gringos if he but had the power.</p>
+
+<p>"See, se&ntilde;orita!" he said, in his wheezy,
+asthmatic voice. "I am powerless, am I
+not? Already of a certain age, I am afflicted
+with an accession of flesh; moreover, I am
+short of breath, owing to this apoplexy of an
+asthma. Worse than this, my legs, if the
+se&ntilde;orita can pardon the allusion, refuse now
+these two years to do their office. With two
+sticks, I can hobble about the house and
+garden; without them, behold me a fixture.
+How, then? When the war breaks out, I
+go to my General, to General Sevillo, under
+whom I served in the ten years' war. I say
+to him, 'Things are thus and thus with me,
+but still I would serve my country. Give
+me a horse, and let me ride with you as an
+orderly.' Alas! it may not be. 'Annunzio,'
+he says, 'your day of service in the field is
+over. Stay at home, and help our men when
+they call upon you. Thus you can do more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+good ten-fold than you could do in the
+saddle.'</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ohim&eacute;!</i> my heart is broken; it is reduced
+to powder, but what will you? reason, joined
+to authority,&mdash;I am but a simple man, and
+I obey. Since then, I sit and whittle splints
+for my admirable wife. A woman, se&ntilde;orita,
+to rule a nation! The Gringos pass by, and see
+me working at my trade. I greet them civilly,
+I supply requisitions when backed by authority;
+again, what will you? I suffer in silence till
+their back is turned, and my maledictions accompany
+them along the road. Ah! if none of
+them had longer life than I wish him, the
+road would be encumbered with corpses.
+Then,&mdash;draw your chair nearer, se&ntilde;orita, if
+you will have the infinite graciousness,&mdash;then,
+at night&mdash;it may be this very night&mdash;the
+others come. Hush! yes&mdash;the Mambis; the
+sons of Cuba. Quietly, by ones, by twos,
+they appear, dropping from the sky, rising
+from the earth. Then&mdash;ha! then, you shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+see. Not a word more, Se&ntilde;orita Margarita!
+Donna Prudencia is a pearl, an empress
+among women, but rightly named; she complains
+that I talk too much on these subjects.
+But when one's heart is in the field, and one's
+legs refuse to follow,&mdash;again, what would
+you? No matter! silence is golden! Wait
+but a little, and you shall see. Who knows?
+It may be this very night."</p>
+
+<p>Thus Don Annunzio, with many nods and
+winks, and gestures of dramatic caution. His
+words fanned the flame of Rita's zeal, and
+she longed for one of the promised nocturnal
+visits. That night and the next she was
+constantly waking, listening for a whisper,
+the clank of a chain, the jingle of a spur;
+but none came, and the nights passed as
+peacefully as the days. The dozen, and more,
+were completed; and then, in spite of her
+vow, Rita found time to make one for herself,
+certainly as pretty a hat as heart could
+desire. So pretty, Rita thought it a thousand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
+pities that there was no one beside Don
+Annunzio and Marm Prudence to see her
+in it. She sighed, and thought of the camp
+among the hills, of Carlos and the General,
+and Don Uberto.</p>
+
+<p>One day, soon after noon, Marm Prudence
+asked Rita if she would like to take a walk
+with her. Rita assented eagerly, and put
+on her pretty hat. She looked on with surprise
+as Marm Prudence proceeded to take
+from a cupboard an ample covered basket,
+from which protruded the neck of a bottle
+and some plump red bananas.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we going on a picnic, then?" she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>The good woman nodded. "You'll see,
+time enough!" she said. "It's a picnic
+for somebody, if not for us, Miss Margaritty.
+Look, dear! is Don Noonsey out in the ro'd
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>Don Annunzio was out in the road, having
+made what was quite a journey for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+him, down the verandah steps, along the
+garden walk, and across the sunny road.
+He now stood shading his eyes with his
+hand, looking this way and that with anxious
+glances.</p>
+
+<p>At length, "All is quiet!" he said. "The
+road is clear, and no sign anywhere. Make
+haste then, <i>mi alma</i>, and cross while yet all
+is safe."</p>
+
+<p>Beckoning to Rita, Marm Prudence slipped
+out and across the road swiftly, not pausing
+till she had gained the screen of a thick
+clump of cacti. Rita kept close to her side,
+drinking the mystery like wine. They stood
+for a few moments behind the aloes; then
+Don Annunzio spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"All is still perfect, and you may go without
+fear. Carry my best greetings whither
+you are going. At the proper hour I will
+await you here, and signal when return is
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>Without wasting words, his wife waved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+her hand, and turning, plunged into the
+forest, followed by the delighted Rita.</p>
+
+<p>The tangle of underbrush was higher than
+their heads, but they made their way quickly,
+and Rita soon saw that a narrow path wound
+along through the bush, and that the ground
+under her feet had been trodden many times.
+The trees towered high above the dense undergrowth,
+some leafy and branching, others, the
+palms, tossing their single plume aloft. Open
+near the wood, the wood grew thicker and
+thicker, till it stood like a wall on either side
+of the narrow footpath; the twigs and leaves,
+broken and crushed here and there, showed,
+like the path, the traces of frequent passage.</p>
+
+<p>Rita was burning with curiosity, yet she
+would not for worlds have asked a question.
+They were nearing every moment the heart
+of the mystery; she would not spoil the
+dramatic effect by prying into it too soon.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, a gleam of sunlight struck
+through the trees. They were near the end<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+of the wood, then. A few steps more, and
+she caught her breath, with a low cry of
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>A round hollow, dipping deep like a cup,
+with here and there a great tree standing.
+On one side, a clear spring flowing from a
+rocky cleft. Under one tree, a hammock
+slung, and in a hammock a man asleep.
+Thus much Rita saw at the first glance. The
+next instant the man was on his feet, and
+the long barrel of his carbine gleamed level
+at sight.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Alto! quien va?</i>" the challenge rang
+clear and sharp.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cuba!</i>" replied Se&ntilde;ora Carreno. "For
+the land's sake, Mr. Delmonty, don't start
+a person like that. You'd oughter know my
+sunbunnit by this time."</p>
+
+<p>The young man had already lowered his
+weapon, and showed a laughing face of
+apology as he lifted his broad-brimmed
+hat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Donna Prudencia,"
+he said. "I was asleep, and dreaming; not
+of angels!" he added, as he made another
+low bow, which included Rita in its sweep
+of respectful courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>He spoke English like an Anglo-Saxon,
+without trace of accent or hesitation. His
+hair and complexion were brown, but a pair
+of bright blue eyes lightened his face in an
+extraordinary manner.</p>
+
+<p>Who might this be?</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Delmonty, let me make ye acquainted
+with Miss Margaritty Montfort!" said Se&ntilde;ora
+Carreno, with some ceremony. "Miss Montfort
+is stoppin' with us for a spell. Both of
+you bein' half Yankee, I judged you might
+be pleased to meet up with each other."</p>
+
+<p>Rita bowed with her most queenly air;
+then relaxed, as she met the merry glance
+of the blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you?" she said. "I am very glad&mdash;but
+your name is Spanish."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"My father was a Cuban," said the young
+man; "my mother is American. She was
+a Russell of Claxton." He paused a moment,
+as if inviting comment; but Rita, brought up
+in Cuba, knew nothing of the Russells of
+Claxton, a famous family.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been in the North most of the time
+since I was a little shaver," he went on, "at
+school and college; came down here last year,
+when things seemed to be brewing. Have you
+been much in Boston, Miss Montfort? We
+might have some acquaintances in common."</p>
+
+<p>Rita shook her head, and told him of her
+one summer in the North. "I hope to go
+again," she said, "when our country is free.
+When Cuba has no longer need of her
+daughters, as well as her sons, I shall gladly
+return to that fair northern country."</p>
+
+<p>Again she caught a quizzical glance of the
+blue eyes, and was reminded, she hardly
+knew why, of her Uncle John. But Uncle
+John's eyes were brown.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are&mdash;alone here, Se&ntilde;or Delmonte?"
+she asked, glancing around the solitary dell.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the young man, composedly.
+"I'm in hiding."</p>
+
+<p>Rita's eyes flashed. Hiding! a son of
+Cuba! skulking about in the woods, while
+his brother soldiers were at the front, or,
+like Carlos, guarding the hill passes! This
+was indeed being only half a Cuban. She
+would have nothing to do with recreant
+soldiers; and she turned away with a face
+of cold displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>"How's your foot?" asked Se&ntilde;ora Carreno,
+abruptly. "That last dressing fetch it, do
+you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right!" said the young man.
+"Look! I have my shoe on." And he
+held up one foot with an air of triumph.
+"I shall be ready for the road to-night, and
+take my troublesome self off your hands,
+Se&ntilde;ora Carreno."</p>
+
+<p>"No trouble at all!" said the good woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+earnestly. "Not a mite of trouble but what
+was pleasure, Captain Jack."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Jack! where had Rita heard that
+name? Before she could try to think, her
+hostess went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I kinder hate to have you go, but
+of course you're eager, same as all young
+folks are. But look here! You'd better
+pass the night with us, and let me see to
+your foot once more, and give you a good
+night's sleep in a Christian bed; and then
+I can mend up your things a bit, and you
+lay by till night again, and start off easy
+and comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds very delightful," said the young
+man, with a glance at the charming girl who
+would stand with her head turned away.
+"But how about the Gringos, Donna Prudencia?
+Supposing some of them should
+come along to-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>"They won't come to-morrow!" said Marm
+Prudence, significantly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No? you have assurance of that? and
+why may they not come to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because they've come to-day, most likely!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita started, and turned back toward the
+speakers.</p>
+
+<p>"The Gringos? to-day?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence nodded. "That was why
+I brought you here, dear," she said; "most
+of the reason, that is. We got word they
+was most likely comin', quite a passel of 'em;
+and we judged it was well, Don Noonsey and
+me, that they shouldn't see you. I thought
+mebbe," she added, with a sly glance at the
+basket, "that if I brought a little something
+extry, we might get an invitation to take
+a bite of luncheon, but we don't seem to."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but who could have supposed that
+I was to have <i>all</i> the good things in the
+world?" cried Delmonte, merrily. "This is
+really too good to be true. Help me, Donna
+Prudencia, while I set out the feast! Why,
+this is the great day of the whole campaign."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The two unpacked the basket, with many
+jests and much laughter; they were evidently
+old friends. Meantime Rita stood by, uncertain
+of her own mood. To miss an experience,
+possibly terrible, certainly thrilling; to have
+lost an opportunity of declaring herself a
+daughter of Cuba, possibly of shooting a
+Spaniard for herself, and to have been deceived,
+tricked like a child; this brought her
+slender brows together, ominously, and made
+her eyes glitter in a way that Manuela would
+have known well. On the other hand&mdash;here
+was a romantic spot, a young soldier,
+apparently craven, but certainly wounded,
+and very good-looking; and here was luncheon,
+and she was desperately hungry. On the
+whole&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The tragedy queen disappeared, and it was
+a cheerful though very dignified young person
+who responded gracefully to Delmonte's petition
+that she would do him the favour to
+be seated at his humble board.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>That was a pleasant little meal, under
+the great plane-tree in the cup-shaped dell.
+Marm Prudence had kept, through all her
+years of foreign residence, her New England
+touch in cookery, and Se&ntilde;or Delmonte declared
+that it was worth a whole campaign
+twice over to taste her doughnuts. They
+drank "<i>Cuba Libre</i>" in raspberry vinegar
+that had come all the way from Vermont,
+and Rita was obliged to confess that Se&ntilde;or
+Delmonte was a charming host, and that she
+was enjoying herself extremely.</p>
+
+<p>It was late in the afternoon when she and
+Marm Prudence took their way back through
+the forest. At first Rita was silent; but as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+distance increased between them and the dell,
+she could not restrain her curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>How was it, she asked, that this young
+man was there alone, separated from his
+companions? He said he was in hiding. Hiding!
+a detestable, an unworthy word! Why
+should a son of Cuba be in hiding, she wished
+to know! She had worked herself into a
+fine glow of indignation again, and was ready
+to believe anything and everything bad about
+the agreeable youth with the blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I must know!" she repeated, dropping
+her voice to a contralto note that she was
+fond of. "Tell me, Marm Prudence; tell me
+all! have I broken the bread of a recreant?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it was my bread," said Marm
+Prudence, dryly. "I'll tell you, if you'll give
+me a chance, Miss Margaritty. I supposed,
+though, that you'd have heard of Jack Delmonty;
+Captain Jack, as they call him. Since
+his last raid the Gringos have offered a big reward
+for him, alive or dead. He was wounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+in the foot, and thought he might hender his
+troop some if he tried to go with them in
+that state. So he camped here, and we've
+seen to him as best we could."</p>
+
+<p>Rita was dumb, half with amazement, half
+with mortification. How was it possible that
+she had been so stupid? Heard of Captain
+Jack? where were her wits? the daring guerrilla
+leader, the pride of the Cuban bands, the
+terror of all Spaniards in that part of the
+island. Why, he was one of her pet heroes;
+only&mdash;only she had fancied him so utterly different.
+The Captain Jack of her fancy was a
+gigantic person, with blue-black curls, with
+eyes like wells of black light (she had been
+fond of this bit of description, and often repeated
+it to herself), a superb moustache, and
+a nose absolutely Grecian, like the Santillo
+nose of tender memory. This half-Yankee
+stripling, blue-eyed, with a nose that&mdash;yes,
+that actually turned up a little, and the
+merest feather of brown laid on his upper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+lip&mdash;how could she or any one suppose this
+to be the famous cavalry leader?</p>
+
+<p>Rita blushed scarlet with distress, as she
+remembered her bearing, which she had tried
+to make as scornful as was compatible with
+good manners. She had meant, had done her
+best, to show him that she thought lightly of
+a Cuban soldier who, for what reason soever,
+proclaimed himself without apology to be "in
+hiding." To be sure, he had not seemed to
+feel the rebuke as she had expected he would.
+Once or twice she had caught that look of
+Uncle John in his eyes; the laughing, critical,
+yet kindly scrutiny that always made her
+feel like a little girl, and a silly girl at that.
+Was that what she had seemed to Captain
+Delmonte? Of course it was. She had had
+the great, the crowning opportunity of her
+life, of doing homage to a real hero (she
+forgot good General Sevillo, who had been a
+hero in a quiet and business-like way for
+sixty years), and she had lost the opportunity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>It was a very subdued Rita who returned
+to the house that evening. At the
+edge of the wood they were met by Don
+Annunzio, who stood as before, smoking his
+long black cigar, and scrutinising the road
+and the surrounding country. A wave of
+his hand told them that all was well, and
+they stepped quickly across the road, and in
+another minute were on the verandah.</p>
+
+<p>Don Annunzio followed them with an elaborate
+air of indifference; but once seated in
+his great chair, he began to speak eagerly,
+gesticulating with his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Dios!</i> Prudencia, you had an inspiration
+from heaven this day. What I have been
+through! the sole comfort is that I have lost
+twenty pounds at least, from sheer anxiety.
+Imagine that you had not been gone an hour,
+when up they ride, the <i>guerrilla</i> that was reported
+to us yesterday. At their head, that
+pestiferous Col. Diego Moreno. He dismounts,
+demands coffee, bananas, what there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+is. I go to get them; and, the saints aiding
+me, I meet in the face the pretty Manuela.
+Another instant, and she would have been on
+the verandah, would have been seen by these
+swine, female curiosity having led her to
+imagine a necessary errand in that direction.
+I seize this charming child by the
+shoulders, I push her into her room. I tell
+her, 'Thou hast a dangerous fever. Go to
+thy bed on the instant, it is a matter of
+thy life.'</p>
+
+<p>"My countenance is such that she obeys
+without a word. She is an admirable
+creature! Beauty, in the female sex&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Do go on, Noonsey," said his wife, good-naturedly,
+"and never mind about beauty
+now. Land knows we have got other things
+to think about."</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, it is true, my own!" replied
+the amiable fat man. "I return to the
+verandah. This man is striding up and
+down, cutting at my poor vines with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+apoplexy of a whip. He calls me; I stand
+before him thus, civil but erect.</p>
+
+<p>"'Have you any strangers here, Don
+Annunzio?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No, Se&ntilde;or Colonel.'</p>
+
+<p>"It is true, se&ntilde;orita. To make a stranger
+of you, so friendly, so gracious&mdash;the thought
+is intolerable.</p>
+
+<p>"He approaches, he regards me fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>"'A young lady, Se&ntilde;orita Montfort, and
+her maid, escaped from the carriage of her
+stepmother, the honourable Se&ntilde;ora Montfort,
+while on the way to the convent of the White
+Sisters, ten days ago. A man of my command
+was taken by these hill-cats of Mambis,
+and carried to a camp in this neighbourhood.
+He escaped, and reported to me that a young
+lady and her attendant were in the camp.
+I raided the place yesterday.'</p>
+
+<p>"'With success, who can doubt?' I said.
+Civility may be used even to the devil, whom
+this officer strongly resembled.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He stamped his feet, he ground his teeth,
+fire flashed from his eyes. 'They were
+gone!' he said. 'They had been gone
+but a few hours, for the fires were still burning,
+but no trace of them was to be found.
+I found, however, in a deserted <i>rancho</i>,&mdash;this!'
+and he held up a delicate comb of
+tortoise-shell."</p>
+
+<p>"My side-comb!" cried Rita. "I wondered
+where I had lost it. Go on, pray, Don
+Annunzio."</p>
+
+<p>"He questioned me again, this colonel, on
+whom may the saints send a lingering disease.
+I can swear that there is no young lady in
+the house? but assuredly, I can, and do swear
+it, with all earnestness. He whistles, and
+swears also&mdash;in a different manner. He
+says, 'I must search the house. This is an
+important matter. A large reward is offered
+by the Se&ntilde;ora Montfort for the discovery of
+this young lady.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Search every rat-hole, my colonel,' I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+reply; 'but first take your coffee, which is
+ready at this moment.'</p>
+
+<p>"In effect, Antonia arrives at the instant
+with the tray. While she is serving him, I
+find time to slip with the agility of the serpent
+into the passage, and turn the handle
+of the bedroom door. 'Spotted fever!' I
+cry through the crack; and am back at my
+post before the colonel could see round Antonia's
+broad back. Good! he drinks his
+coffee. He devours your cakes, my Prudencia,
+keeping his eye on me all the time, and
+plying me with questions. I tell him all is
+well with us, except the sickness.</p>
+
+<p>"'How then? what sickness?'</p>
+
+<p>"'A servant is ill with fever,' I say. 'We
+hope that it will not spread through the
+house; it is a bad time for fever.' I see he
+does not like that, he frowns, he mutters
+maledictions. I profess myself ready to conduct
+him through my poor premises; I lead
+him through the parlour, which he had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+sense to admire, to the kitchen, to our own
+apartment, my cherished one. All the time
+my heart flutters like a wounded dove. I
+cry in my soul, 'All depends on the wit of
+that child. If she had but gone with Prudencia
+to the forest!'</p>
+
+<p>"Finally there is no escape, we must pass
+the door. I stop before it. 'Open!' says
+the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>"'Your Excellency will observe,' I say,
+'that there is a dangerous case of spotted
+fever in this room.'</p>
+
+<p>"He turns white, then black. He pulls
+his moustache, which resembles a mattress.</p>
+
+<p>"At last 'How do I know?' he cries;
+'You may be lying! all Cubans are liars.
+The girl may be in this room!'</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 279px;">
+<img src="images/gs06.png" width="279" height="400" alt="&quot;&#39;I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART IN MY MOUTH.&#39;&quot;" title="&quot;&#39;I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART IN MY MOUTH.&#39;&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;&#39;I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART IN MY MOUTH.&#39;&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I throw open the door and step back, my
+heart in my mouth, my eyes flinging themselves
+into the apartment. Heavens! what do
+we see? a hideous face projects itself from the
+bed. Red&mdash;black&mdash;a face from the pit! A<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+horrible smell is in our nostrils&mdash;we hear
+groans&mdash;enough! The colonel staggers back,
+cursing. I close the door and follow him out
+to the verandah. My own nerves are shaken,
+I admit it; it was a thing to shatter the
+soul. Still cursing, he mounts his horse, and
+rides away with his troop. I see them go.
+They carry away the best of what the house
+holds, but what of that? they are gone!</p>
+
+<p>"I hasten, as well as my infirmity allows,
+to the chamber. I cry 'Manuela, is it thou?'</p>
+
+<p>"I am bidden to enter. I open the door,
+and find that admirable child at the toilet-table,
+washing her face and laughing till
+the tears flow. Already half of her pretty
+face is clean, but half still hideous to
+behold.</p>
+
+<p>"'How did you do it?' I ask her. She
+laughs more merrily than before; if you have
+noticed, she has a laughter of silver bells,
+this maiden. 'The red lip-salve,' she says,
+'and a little ink. Have no fear, Don An<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>nunzio;
+it was you who discovered the fever,
+you know.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But the smell, my child? there must be
+something bad here, something unhealthy; a
+vile smell!'</p>
+
+<p>"She laughs again, this child. 'I burned
+a piece of tortoise-shell,' she says. 'Saint
+Ursula forgive me, it was one of the se&ntilde;orita's
+side-combs, but there was nothing else
+at hand.'</p>
+
+<p>"Thus then, se&ntilde;orita, thus, my Prudencia,
+has Manuela virtually saved our house and
+ourselves. Hasten to embrace her! I have
+already permitted myself the salute of a
+father upon her charming cheek, as simple
+gratitude enjoined it."</p>
+
+<p>As if by magic&mdash;could she have been
+listening in the passage?&mdash;Manuela appeared,
+blushing and radiant. Donna Prudencia
+did not think it necessary to kiss
+her, but she shook her warmly by the hand,
+telling her that she was a good girl, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+fit to be a Yankee, a compliment which
+Manuela hardly appreciated. As for Rita,
+she kissed the girl on both cheeks, and stood
+holding her hands, gazing at her with wistful
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Manuela," she cried; "I must not
+begrudge it to you. You are a heroine; you
+have had the opportunity, and you knew
+how to take it. Daughter of Cuba, your
+sister blesses you."</p>
+
+<p>Before Manuela could reply, Donna Prudencia
+broke in. "There! there!" she said.
+"Come down off your high horse, Miss
+Margaritty, there's a dear; and help me to
+see to things. Here's Captain Delmonty
+coming to-night, and them chicken-thieves
+of Gringos have carried off every living
+thing there was to eat in the house."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>CAPTAIN JACK.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Jack Delmonte appeared, late in
+the evening, he was puzzled at the change
+which had come over the pretty Grand Duchess,
+as he had mentally nicknamed Rita. In
+the afternoon she had appeared, he could
+not imagine why, to regard him as a portion
+of the scum of the earth. He thought her
+extremely pretty, and full of charm, yet he
+could not help feeling provoked, in spite of
+his amusement, at the disdainful curl at the
+corners of her mouth when she addressed
+him. Now, he was equally at a loss to
+understand why or how the Grand Duchess
+was replaced by a gentle and tender-voiced
+maiden, who looked up at him from under
+her long curved lashes with timid and dep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>recatory
+glances. She insisted on mixing
+his <i>granita</i> herself, and brought it in the
+one valuable cup Marm Prudence possessed,
+a beautiful old bit of Lowestoft. She begged
+to hear from his own lips about his last raid&mdash;about
+all his raids. She had heard about
+some of them; the one where he had swum
+the river under fire to rescue the little lame
+boy; the other, when he had chased five
+Spaniards for half a mile, with no other
+weapon than a banana pointed at full cock.
+She even knew of some exploits that he
+had never heard of; and the honest captain
+found himself blushing under his tan, and
+finally changed the subject by main force.
+It was very pleasant, of course, to have this
+lovely creature hanging on his words, and
+supplementing them with others of her own,
+only too extravagantly laudatory; but a fellow
+must tell the truth; and&mdash;and after all,
+what was the meaning of it? She wouldn't
+look at him, three hours ago.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Had they had a gay winter in Havana?
+he asked. He hadn't been to a dance for
+forty years. Was she fond of dancing? of
+course she was. What a pity they couldn't&mdash;here
+he happened to glance at Rita's black
+dress, and stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Montfort, I beg your pardon! It
+was very stupid of me. I ran on without
+thinking. You are in mourning. What a
+brute I am!"</p>
+
+<p>The tears had gathered in Rita's eyes, but
+now she smiled through them. "It is six
+months since my father died," she said.
+"He was the kindest of fathers, though,
+alas! Spanish in his sympathies."</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother?" hazarded Jack, full of
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother died three years ago. My
+stepmother&mdash;" then followed the tale of
+her persecution, her escape, and subsequent
+adventures. Captain Jack was delighted
+with the story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah!" he exclaimed. "That was
+tremendously plucky, you know, going off
+in that way. That was fine! and you got
+to your brother all right? I wonder&mdash;is he&mdash;are
+you any relation of Carlos Montfort?
+Not his sister? You don't mean it. Why,
+I was at school with Carlos, the first school
+I ever went to. An old priest kept it, in
+Plaza Nero. Carlos was a good fellow, and
+gave me the biggest licking once&mdash;I'm
+very glad we met, Miss Montfort. And&mdash;I
+don't mean to be impertinent, I'm sure you
+know that; but&mdash;what are you going to do
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>Alas! Rita did not know. "I thought I
+was safe here," she said. "I was to stay
+here with these good people till word came
+from my uncle in the States, or till there
+was a good escort that might take me to
+some port whence I could sail to New York.
+Now&mdash;I do not know; I begin to tremble,
+Se&ntilde;or Delmonte. To-day, while Donna Pru<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>dencia
+and I were in the forest, a Spanish
+<i>guerrilla</i> came here, looking for me. Don
+Diego Moreno was in command. He is a
+friend of my stepmother's. I know him,
+a cold, hateful man. If he had found me&mdash;"
+she shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"I know Diego Moreno, too," said Delmonte;
+and his brow darkened. "He is
+not fit to look at you, much less to speak
+to you. Never mind, Miss Montfort! don't
+be afraid; we'll manage somehow. If no
+better way turns up, I'll take you to Puerto
+Blanco myself. Trouble is, these fellows are
+rather down on me just now; but we'll
+manage somehow, never fear! Hark! what's
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>He leaned forward, listening intently. A
+faint sound was heard, hardly more than a
+breathing. Some night-bird, was it? It
+came from the fringe of forest across the
+road. Again it sounded, two notes, a long
+and a short one, soft and plaintive. A bird,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+certainly, thought Rita. She started as Captain
+Delmonte imitated the call, repeating
+it twice.</p>
+
+<p>"Juan," he said, briefly. "Reporting for
+orders. Here he comes!"</p>
+
+<p>A burly figure crossed the road in three
+strides. Three more brought him to the
+verandah, where he saluted and stood at
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Juan, where are the rest of you?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the usual place, Se&ntilde;or Captain, four
+miles from here," said the orderly. "I have
+brought Aquila; he is here in the thicket,
+my own horse also. Will you ride to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, at daybreak, Juan. I have
+promised Se&ntilde;ora Carreno to sleep one night
+under her roof, and convince her that my foot
+is entirely well. Bring Aquila into the courtyard.
+All is quiet in the neighbourhood?"</p>
+
+<p>"All quiet, Se&ntilde;or Captain. Good; I bring
+Aquila and return to the troop. You will be
+with us, then, before sunrise?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Before sunrise without fail," said Captain
+Jack. "<i>Buenos noches, Juanito!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The trooper saluted again, and slipped back
+across the road; next moment he reappeared
+leading a long, lean, brown horse, who walked
+as if he were treading on eggshells. They
+passed into the courtyard and were seen no
+more, Juan making his way back to the
+thicket by some unseen path.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not stay with us through the day
+then, Mr. Delmonte? I am sorry!" said Rita.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could, indeed I do; but I must
+get to my fellows as soon as possible. I shall
+come back, though, in a day or two, and put
+myself and my troop at your orders, Miss
+Montfort. How would you like to lead a
+troop, like Madame Hernandez?" He laughed,
+but Rita's eyes flashed.</p>
+
+<p>"But I would die to do it!" she cried.
+"Ah! Se&ntilde;or Delmonte, once to fight for my
+country, and then to die&mdash;that is my ambition."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And you'd do it well, I am sure!" said
+Delmonte, warmly; "the fighting part, I
+mean. But nobody would let you die, Miss
+Montfort, it would spoil the prospect."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke lightly, for heroics embarrassed
+him, as they did Carlos.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after, Donna Prudencia appeared, with
+bedroom candles, and stood looking benevolently
+at the two young people.</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you've been having a good visit,"
+she said. "Well, there's an end to all, and
+it's past ten o'clock, Miss Margaritty."</p>
+
+<p>Rita rose with some reluctance; nor did
+Captain Delmonte seem enthusiastic on the
+subject of going to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a beautiful night!" he said. "Must
+you go, Miss Montfort? I mustn't keep you
+up, of course. Good-bye, then, for a few days!
+I shall be gone before daybreak. I'm very
+glad we have met."</p>
+
+<p>They shook hands heartily. Rita somehow
+did not find words so readily as usual. "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+too am glad," she said. "It is something&mdash;I
+have always wished to meet the 'Star of
+Horsemen!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>please</i> don't!" cried Jack, in distress.
+"That was just a joke of those idiots of mine.
+Good gracious! if you go to calling names,
+Miss Montfort, I shall not dare to come back
+again. Good night!"</p>
+
+<p>It was long before Rita could sleep. She
+lay with wide-open eyes, conjuring up one
+scene after another, in all of which Captain
+Delmonte played the hero's part, and she the
+heroine's. He was rescuing her single-handed
+from a regiment of Spaniards; they were galloping
+together at the head of a troop, driving
+the Gringos like sheep before them. Or, he
+was wounded on the field of battle, and she was
+kneeling beside him, holding water to his lips,
+and blessing the good Cuban surgeon who had
+taught her bandaging in the camp among the
+hills. At length, hero and heroine, Cuban and
+Spaniard, faded away, and she slept peacefully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What is it? what is the matter?" Rita
+sprang up in her bed and listened. The sound
+that had awakened her was repeated: a knock
+at the door; a voice, low but imperative; the
+voice of Jack Delmonte.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Montfort! are you awake?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; what has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Gringos! Dress yourself quickly,
+and come out. You can dress in the dark?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; oh, yes! I will come. Manuela!
+wake! wake! don't speak, but dress yourself;
+the Spaniards are here."</p>
+
+<p>Hastily, with trembling hands, the two girls
+put on their clothes. No thought now of
+how or what; anything to cover them, and
+that quickly. They hurried out into the
+passage; Delmonte stood there, carbine in
+hand. He spoke almost in a whisper, yet
+every word fell clearly on their strained
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>"It's not Moreno; it's Velaya's <i>guerrilla:</i>
+we must get away before they fire the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+Give me your hand, Miss Montfort; you will
+be quiet, I know. Your maid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Manuela, you will not speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, se&ntilde;orita!" said poor Manuela, with a
+stifled sob.</p>
+
+<p>"My horse is ready saddled," Delmonte
+went on. "If I can get you away before they
+see us&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Me! but what will become of the others?"
+cried Rita, under her breath. "I cannot
+desert Manuela and Marm Prudence&mdash;Donna
+Prudencia."</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to save you," said Jack Delmonte,
+quietly. "If for no other reason, I
+have just given my word to Donna Prudencia.
+The rest&mdash;I'll get back as soon as I
+can, that's all I can say. Follow me! hark!"</p>
+
+<p>A shot rang out; another, and another.
+A hubbub of voices rose within and without
+the house; and at the same instant a bright
+light sprang up, and they saw each other's
+faces.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Delmonte ground his teeth. "Wait!"
+he said; and going a little way along the
+passage, he peered from a window. The
+verandah swarmed with armed men. The
+door was locked and barred, but they were
+smashing the window-shutters with the butts
+of their carbines. He glanced along the
+passage. Inside the door stood Don Annunzio,
+in his vast white pajamas, firing composedly
+through a wicket; beside him his
+wife, as quietly loading and handing him
+the weapons. Behind them huddled the
+few house and farm servants, negroes for
+the most part, but among them was one
+intelligent-looking young Creole. Singling
+him out, Delmonte led him apart, and
+pointed to Manuela. "Your sister!" he
+said. "Your life for hers."</p>
+
+<p>The youth nodded, and beckoned the
+frightened girl to stand beside him. Rita
+saw no more, for Delmonte, grasping her
+hand firmly, led her through the winding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+passage and into the inner courtyard. Pausing
+a moment on the verandah, they looked
+through the archway at one side, through
+which streamed a red glare. The cane
+patch was on fire, and blazing fiercely.
+The flames tossed and leaped, and in
+front of them men were running with
+torches, setting fire to sheds and out-houses.
+Their shouts, the crackling and
+hissing of the flames, the shots and cries
+from the front of the house, turned the
+quiet night wild with horror. A crash
+behind them told that the front door had
+yielded.</p>
+
+<p>"It's run for it, now!" said Delmonte,
+quietly. "Now, then, child,&mdash;quick!"</p>
+
+<p>A few steps, and they were beside the
+brown horse, standing saddled and bridled,
+and already quivering and straining to be
+off. Delmonte lifted Rita in his arms,&mdash;no
+time now for courtly mounting,&mdash;then
+sprang to the saddle before her. He spoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+to the horse, who stood trembling, but made
+no motion to advance.</p>
+
+<p>"Aquila, softly past the gate&mdash;then for
+life! good boy! Miss Montfort, put your
+arms around me, and hold fast. Don't let
+go unless I drop; then try to catch the
+reins, and give him his head. He knows
+the way."</p>
+
+<p>Softly, slowly, Aquila crept to the archway.
+He might have been shod with velvet
+for any sound he made. Could they get
+away unseen? The men with the torches
+were busy at their horrid work; they could
+not be seen yet from the front of the house.
+The horse crept forward, silent as a phantom.
+They were clear of the archway.
+"Now!" whispered Delmonte. "For life,
+Aquila!" and Aquila went, for life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FOR LIFE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"If we can put the fire between us and
+them," said Captain Jack, "we shall get
+off."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment it seemed as if they might
+do it. Already they saw the road before
+them, the sand glowing red in the firelight.
+A few more strides&mdash;Just then, a Spanish
+soldier came running round the corner of
+the burning cane-patch, whirling his blazing
+torch. He saw them, and raised a shout.
+"<i>Alerta! alerta!</i> fugitives! after them!
+shoot down the Mambi dogs!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a rush to the corner where
+a score of horses stood tethered to the
+fence. A dozen men leaped into the saddle
+and came thundering in pursuit. Aquila<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+gave one glance back; then stretched his
+long lean neck, and settled into a gallop.</p>
+
+<p>Before them the road lay straight for
+some distance, red here in the crimson light,
+further on white under a late moon. On
+one side the woods rose black and still, on
+the other lay open fields crossed here and
+there by barbed wire fences. No living
+creature was to be seen on the road. No
+sound was heard save the muffled beat
+of the horse's hoofs on the sand, and behind,
+the shouts and cries of their pursuers.
+Were they growing louder, those shouts?
+Were they gaining, or was the distance between
+them widening? Rita turned her
+head once to look back. "I wouldn't do
+that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Do you
+mind, Miss Montfort, if I swing you round
+in front of me? Don't be alarmed, Aquila is
+all right."</p>
+
+<p>Before Rita could speak, he had dropped
+the reins on the horse's neck, and lifted her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+bodily round to the peak of the saddle before
+him. "I'm sorry!" he said, apologetically.
+"I fear it is very uncomfortable; but&mdash;I
+can&mdash;a&mdash;manage better, don't you see?"
+But to himself he was saying, "Lucky I got
+that done before the beggars began to shoot.
+Now they may fire all they like. Stupid
+duffer I was, not to start right."</p>
+
+<p>He had felt the girl's light figure quiver
+as he lifted her.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be frightened, Miss Montfort," he
+said again. "There isn't a horse in the
+country that can touch Aquila when he is
+roused."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not frightened," said Rita. "I am&mdash;excited,
+I suppose. It is like riding on
+wind, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>It was true that she felt no fear; neither
+did she realise the peril of their position. It
+was one of the dreams come true, that was
+all. She was riding with Delmonte, with the
+Star of Horsemen. He was saving her life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+They had ridden so before, often and often;
+only now&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Pah!</i> a short, sharp report was heard,
+and a little dust whiffed up on the road
+beside them. <i>Pah! pah!</i> another puff of
+dust, and splinters flew from a tree just beyond
+them. Aquila twitched his ears and
+stretched his long neck, and they felt the
+stride quicken under them. The road rushed
+by; they were half-way to the turn.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to hold the reins for a
+bit?" asked Delmonte. "It isn't really
+necessary, but&mdash;thanks! that's very nice."</p>
+
+<p>What was he doing? He had turned half
+round in the saddle; something touched her
+hair&mdash;the butt of his carbine. "I <i>beg</i> your
+pardon!" said Captain Jack. "I am very
+clumsy, I fear."</p>
+
+<p><i>Crack!</i> went the carbine. Rita's ears rang
+with the noise; she held the reins mechanically,
+only half-conscious of herself. <i>Pah!
+pah!</i> and again <i>crack!</i> The blue rifle-smoke<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+was in her eyes and nostrils, the Mauser bullets
+pattered like hail on the road; and still
+Aquila galloped on, never turning his head,
+never slackening his mighty stride, and still
+the road rushed by, and the turn by the hill
+grew nearer&mdash;nearer&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Pah!</i> Rita felt her companion wince. His
+left arm relaxed its hold and dropped at his
+side. With his right hand he carefully
+replaced his carbine in its sling.</p>
+
+<p>"For life, Aquila!" he said softly, in Spanish;
+and once more Aquila gathered his great
+limbs under him, and once more the terrible
+pace quickened.</p>
+
+<p>A stone? a hole in the road? who knows?
+In a moment they were all down, horse and
+riders flung in a heap together. The horse
+struggled to his knees, then fell again.
+He screamed, an agonising sound, that in
+Rita's excited mind seemed to mingle with
+the smoke and the dust in a cloud of horror.
+Every moment she expected to feel the iron<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+hoofs crashing into her, as the frenzied creature
+struggled to regain his footing.</p>
+
+<p>Delmonte had sprung clear, and in an
+instant he was at Rita's side, raising her.
+"You are hurt? no? good! keep behind me,
+please."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the horse, and tried to lift him,
+bent to examine him, and then shook his
+head. Aquila would not rise again; his leg
+was shattered. Delmonte straightened himself
+and looked about him. If this had happened
+a hundred, fifty yards back! but now
+the woods were gone, and on either hand
+stretched a bare savannah, broken only by
+the hateful barbed wire fences. He drew his
+revolver quietly. The healthy brown of his
+face had gone gray; his eyes were like blue
+steel. He looked at Rita, and met her eyes
+fixed on him in a mute anguish of entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>"Have no fear!" he said. "It shall be as
+it would with my own sister. I know these
+men; they shall not touch you alive."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He bent once more over the struggling
+beast, and even in his agony Aquila knew
+his master, and turned his eyes lovingly
+toward him, expecting help; and help came.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, lad!" The pistol cracked, and
+the tortured limbs sank into quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"Lie down behind him!" Delmonte commanded.
+"So! now, still."</p>
+
+<p>He knelt behind the dead horse, facing the
+advancing Spaniards. The revolver cracked
+again, and the foremost horseman dropped,
+shot through the head. The troop was now
+close upon them; Rita could see the fierce
+faces, and the gleam of their wolfish teeth.
+Delmonte fired again, and another man
+dropped, but still the rest came on. There
+was no help, then?</p>
+
+<p>Delmonte looked at Rita; she closed her
+eyes, expecting death. The air was full of
+cries and curses. But&mdash;what other sound
+was that? Not from before, but behind them&mdash;round
+the turn of the road&mdash;some one was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+singing! In all the hurry of her flying
+thoughts Rita steadied herself to listen.</p>
+
+<div class='poem'>
+"For it's whoop-la! whoop!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Git along, my little dogies;</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For Wyoming shall be your new home!&mdash;</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>"What in the Rockies is going on here,
+anyhow?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita turned her head. A horseman had
+come around the bend, and checked his horse,
+looking at the scene before him. A giant
+rider on a giant horse. The moon shone on
+his brown uniform, his slouched felt hat, and
+the carbine laid across his saddle-bow. Under
+the slouched hat looked out a bronzed face,
+grim and bearded, lighted by eyes blue as
+Delmonte's own.</p>
+
+<p>Rita gave one glance. "Help!" she cried,
+"America, help!"</p>
+
+<p>"America's the place!" said the horseman.
+He waved his hand to some one behind him,
+then put his horse to the gallop. Next instant
+he was beside them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Delmonte started to his feet, revolver in
+hand. "U. S. A.?" he said. "You're just
+in time, uncle. I'm glad to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Always like to be on time at a party,"
+said the rough rider, levelling his carbine.
+"My fellows are&mdash;in short, here they are!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a scurry of hoofs, a shout, and
+thirty horsemen swept around the curve and
+came racing up.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up, Cap'n Jim?" cried one.
+"Have we lost the fun? Gringos, eh?
+hooray!"</p>
+
+<p>The Spaniards had checked their horses.
+Four of them lay dead in the road, and several
+others were wounded. At sight of the
+mounted troop, they stopped and held a
+hurried consultation, then turned their horses
+and rode away.</p>
+
+<p>The giant looked at Delmonte. "Want to
+follow?" he asked. "This is your hand,
+comrade."</p>
+
+<p>"I want a horse!" said Captain Jack.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+"Miss Montfort,"&mdash;he turned to Rita, who
+had risen to her feet, and stood pale but
+quiet,&mdash;"these are our own good country-men.
+If I leave you with them but a few
+moments&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on!" said the big man. "What
+did you call the young lady?"</p>
+
+<p>Delmonte stared. "This is Miss Montfort,"
+he said, rather formally.</p>
+
+<p>"Not Rita!" cried the giant. "Pike's
+Peak and Glory Gulch! Don't tell me it's
+Rita!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Rita, running forward
+with outstretched hands. "It is&mdash;I
+am! and you&mdash;oh, I know, I know. You
+are Peggy's big brother. You are Cousin
+Jim!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what they said when they christened
+me!" said Cousin Jim.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>MEETINGS AND GREETINGS.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was no time for explanations. Jim
+Montfort put out a hand like a pine knot,
+and gave Rita's fingers a huge shake.</p>
+
+<p>"Glad to find you, cousin," he said. "I've
+been looking for you. Now, what's up over
+there?" He nodded in the direction of the
+fire.</p>
+
+<p>"A <i>candela</i>," said Delmonte, briefly. "I
+must get back; there are women there. If
+one of your men will catch me that horse&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are wounded!" cried Rita.
+"Cousin, he is shot in the arm. Do not
+let him go!"</p>
+
+<p>Delmonte laughed. "It's nothing, Miss
+Montfort," he said; "but nothing at all, I
+assure you. When we get to camp you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+shall put some carbolic acid on it, and tie it
+up for me; that's field practice in Cuba. I
+shall be proud to be your first field patient."
+He spoke in his usual laughing way; but suddenly
+his face changed, and he leaned toward
+her swiftly, his hand on the horse's mane. "I
+shall never forget this time&mdash;our ride together,"
+he said. "I hope you will not forget
+either&mdash;please? And now, Miss Montfort,
+I have no further right over you. I would
+have done my best, I think you know that;
+but&mdash;I must give you into your cousin's
+protection. You will remain here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course she will!" said Cousin Jim, who
+had heard only the last words. "I'll go with
+you, comrade. Raynham, Morton, you will
+mount guard by the lady."</p>
+
+<p>The troopers saluted, and raised their
+hats civilly to Rita, inwardly cursing their
+luck. Because they owned the next ranch
+to Jim Montfort, was that any reason why
+they should lose all the fun? and why<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+could not girls stay at home where they
+belonged?</p>
+
+<p>But Rita herself cried out and clasped her
+hands, and ran to her cousin. "Oh, Cousin
+Jim&mdash;Se&ntilde;or Delmonte&mdash;let me go with you!
+Please, please let me go back. My poor
+Manuela&mdash;Marm Prudence&mdash;they may be
+hurt, wounded. There can be no danger with
+all these brave men. Cousin, I have been in
+a camp hospital, I know how to dress wounds.
+I can be quiet&mdash;Se&ntilde;or Delmonte, tell him I
+can be quiet!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked eagerly at Delmonte.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell him that you are the bravest
+girl I ever saw," he said. "But, you have
+been through a great deal. I don't like to
+have you go back among those rascals."</p>
+
+<p>James Montfort stroked his brown beard
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess it's safe enough," he said at last.
+"Guess there's enough of us to handle 'em.
+Don't know but on the whole she'll be better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+off with us. My sister Peggy wouldn't like
+to miss any circus there was going, would
+she, little girl? Catch another of those
+beasts for the lady, Bill!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita, with one of her quick gestures, caught
+his great hand in both hers. "Oh, you good
+cousin!" she cried. "You dear cousin! You
+are the very best and the very biggest person
+in the world, and I love you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, well!" said Cousin Jim, somewhat
+embarrassed. "There, there! so you
+shall, my dear; so you shall. But as for
+being big, you should see Lanky 'Liph of
+Bone Gulch. Now there&mdash;but here is your
+horse, missy."</p>
+
+<p>The horses of the dead Spaniards had been
+circling about them, more or less shyly. Two
+of them were quickly caught by the rough
+riders, and Rita and Delmonte mounted. As
+they did so, both glanced toward the spot
+where lay the brave horse that had borne
+them so well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"It was for life indeed, Aquila!" said
+Captain Jack, softly. His eyes met Rita's,
+and she saw the brightness of tears in them.
+Next moment they were galloping back to
+the <i>residencia</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They came only just in time. Not ten
+minutes had passed since they left the courtyard,
+but in that time the savage Spaniards
+had done their work well. The house itself
+was in flames, and burning fiercely. Good
+Don Annunzio lay dead, carbine in hand,
+on the steps of his ruined home. Beside him
+lay the Creole youth in whose charge Delmonte
+had left Manuela. The lad was still
+alive, for as Delmonte bent from the saddle
+above him he raised his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I did my best, my captain!" he said.
+"They were too many."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are they?" asked Delmonte and
+Montfort in one breath.</p>
+
+<p>The boy pointed down the road; raised his
+hand to salute, and fell back, dead.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/gs07.png" width="400" height="270" alt="&quot;NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE.&quot;" title="&quot;NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE.&quot;</span>
+</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now again it was a ride for life&mdash;not their
+own life this time. Rita had clean forgotten
+herself. The thought of her faithful friend
+and servant in the hands of the merciless
+Spaniards turned her quick blood to fire.
+She galloped steadily, her eyes fixed on the
+cloud of dust only a few hundred yards ahead
+of them, which told where the enemy was
+galloping, too.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Montfort glanced at her, and nodded
+to himself. "She'll do!" he said in his
+beard. "Montfort grit's good grit, and she's
+got it. This would be nuts to little Peggy."</p>
+
+<p>Jack Delmonte, too, looked more than once
+at the slender figure riding so lightly between
+him and the big rough rider. How beautiful
+she was! He had not realised half how beautiful
+till now. What nerve! what steadiness!
+It might be the <i>Reina de Cuba</i>, Donna Hernandez
+herself, riding to victory.</p>
+
+<p>He felt an unreasonable jealousy of "Cousin
+Jim." Half&mdash;nay! a quarter of an hour<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+ago, she was riding with him; there were only
+they two in the world, they and Aquila, poor
+Aquila,&mdash;who had given his life for theirs.
+She was his comrade then, his charge, his&mdash;and
+now she was Miss Montfort, a young
+lady of fortune and position, under charge
+of her cousin, a Yankee captain of rough
+riders; and he, Jack Delmonte, was&mdash;nothing
+in particular.</p>
+
+<p>As he was thinking these thoughts, Rita
+chanced to turn her head, and met his gaze
+fixed earnestly upon her. She blushed suddenly
+and deeply, the lovely colour rising in
+a wave over cheeks and forehead; then turned
+her head sharply away.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I have offended her!" said Jack.
+"Idiot!" and perhaps he was not very wise.</p>
+
+<p>But there was little time for thinking or
+blushing. The Spaniards, seeing Delmonte,
+whom they regarded as the devil in person,
+descending upon them in company with a
+giant and an army (for so they described the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+band of rough riders at headquarters next
+day), abandoned their prisoners. The Americans
+chased them for a mile or so, killed
+three or four, and, as they reported, "scared
+the rest into Kingdom Come," leaving them
+only on coming to a thick wood, into which
+the Gringos, leaping from their horses, vanished,
+and were seen no more. The victors
+then returned to the forlorn little group of
+women and negroes, huddled together by the
+roadside. Rita had already dismounted, and
+had Manuela in her arms. She felt her all
+over, hurrying question upon question.</p>
+
+<p>"My child, you are not hurt? not wounded?
+these ruffians&mdash;did they dare to touch you?
+did they have the audacity to speak to you,
+Manuela? Oh, why did I leave you? I could
+not help it; you saw I could not help it.
+You are <i>sure</i> you have no hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, positively, se&ntilde;orita," said Manuela.
+"See! not a scratch is on me. They&mdash;one
+fellow&mdash;offered to tie my hands; I scratched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+him so well that he ran away. I am safe,
+safe&mdash;praise be to all saints, to our Holy
+Lady, and the Se&ntilde;or Delmonte. But&mdash;poor
+Cerito, se&ntilde;orita? what of him? he
+was with us; he fought like a lion. I saw
+him fall&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Cerito!" said Rita, gravely. "He
+was a brave, brave lad. A thousand sons
+to Cuba like him!"</p>
+
+<p>Donna Prudencia was sitting apart on a
+stone by the roadside. Rita went up to her,
+took her hand, and kissed her cheek. The
+Yankee woman looked kindly at her and
+nodded comprehension, but did not speak.
+Rita stood silent for a few minutes, timidly
+stroking the brown cheek and white hair.
+Her cousin Margaret came into her mind.
+What would Margaret say, if she were here?
+She would know the right word, she always
+did.</p>
+
+<p>"Marm Prudence," she said, presently, "to
+have the memory of a hero, of one who dies<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+for his country,&mdash;that is something, is it not?
+some little comfort?"</p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence did not answer at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Mebbe so," she said, presently. "Mebbe
+so, Miss Margaritty. Noonzio was a good
+man. Yes'm, I've lost a good husband and
+a good home! A good husband and a good
+home!" she repeated. "That's all there is
+to it, I expect." Her rugged face was disturbed
+for a moment, and she hid it in her
+hands; when she looked up, she was her own
+composed self.</p>
+
+<p>"And what's the next thing?" she asked.
+"Thank you, Cap'n Delmonty, I'm feeling
+first-rate. Don't you fret about me. You
+done all you could. I'll never forget what
+you done. Poor husband's last words before
+he was shot was thanking the Lord Miss
+Margaritty was off safe. We knew we could
+trust her with you."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed," said honest Delmonte, "it is not
+me you must thank, Donna Prudencia. I did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+what I could, but it was Captain Montfort
+and his men who saved both her life and
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>He told the story briefly, and Marm Prudence
+listened with interest. "Well," she
+said, "that was pretty close, wasn't it?
+Anyway, you done all you could, Cap'n
+Jack, and nobody can't do no more. And he's
+Miss Margaritty's cousin, you say? I want
+to know! He's big enough for three, ain't
+he?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita laughed, in spite of herself. She
+beckoned to Cousin Jim, who came up and
+shook hands with the widow with grave sympathy.
+But he seemed preoccupied, and, while
+they were preparing to return to the ruined
+farm, he was pulling his big beard and meditating
+with a puzzled air.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here!" he broke out at last, addressing
+his men. "I've been wondering
+what was wrong. I couldn't seem to round
+up, somehow, and now I've got it. Where's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+that poor old Johnny? I left him with you
+when I rode forward to reconnoitre."</p>
+
+<p>The rough riders looked at one another,
+and hung their heads.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess he must have dropped behind,"
+said Raynham. "We didn't wait long after
+you signalled to us to come on. We&mdash;came."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so!" clamoured the rough riders,
+in sheepish chorus. "We came, Cap'n Jim.
+That's a fact!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;that's all right!" said Jim. "You
+might have brought the old Johnny along,
+though, seems to me. Two of you ride back
+and get him; you, Bill, and Juckins. If he
+seems used up, Juckins can carry him, pony
+and all."</p>
+
+<p>Juckins, a huge Californian, second only to
+Montfort in stature, chuckled, and rode off
+with Raynham at a hand gallop.</p>
+
+<p>Montfort turned to Rita.</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't had time to tell you about it
+before," he said. "Cousin Rita, I've been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+hunting for you for three days. We met an
+old Johnny&mdash;an old gentleman, I should
+say&mdash;riding about on a pony, for all the
+world like Yankee Doodle. He'd got lost,
+poor old duffer, among these inferior crossroads,
+and didn't know whether he was in
+China or Oklahoma. We picked him up, and,
+riding along, it came out that he was searching
+for his ward, a young lady who had run
+away from a convent. Ever heard of such
+a person, missy? He had started out alone,
+to ride about Cuba till he found her. Kind
+of pocket Don Quixote, about five foot high,
+white hair, silk clothes; highly respectable
+Johnny."</p>
+
+<p>"Don Miguel!" cried Rita. "Poor, dear,
+good Don Miguel! I have never written to
+him, wicked that I am. Oh, where is he,
+Cousin Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to ask him," Jim continued, "it
+appeared that the young lady's name was
+Montfort. Now, I had just had a letter from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+Uncle John, wanting me to raise the island to
+get hold of you and ship you North at once.
+He had had no letters; was alarmed, you
+understand. Laid up with a bad knee, or
+would have come himself. I was just going
+to start back to the city in search of you,
+when up comes Don Quixote. When he
+heard I was your cousin, he fell into my
+arms, pony and all. Give you my word he
+did! Almost lost him in my waistcoat pocket.
+I cheered him up a bit, and we've been poking
+about together these three days, looking for
+General Sevillo's camp. Thought you might
+be there. We were camping by the roadside
+when we heard your firing. Ah! here he
+comes now!"</p>
+
+<p>The rough riders came back, their horses
+trotting now, instead of galloping. Between
+them, ambling gently along, was a piebald
+pony of amiable appearance, and on the pony
+sat a little old <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'gentlemen'">gentleman</ins> with snow-white
+hair and a face as mild and gentle as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+pony's own. At sight of Rita running to
+meet him, he uttered a cry of joy, and
+checked his horse. Next moment he had
+dismounted, and had her in his arms, sobbing
+like a child.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Donito Miguelito!" cried Rita.
+"Forgive me! please do forgive me, for
+frightening you. I could not go to the convent,
+indeed I could not. I am a wretch to
+have treated you so, but I could not go to
+that place."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you could not, my child," said
+the good old man. "<i>Nunc dimittis</i>, Domine!
+Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.
+Of course you could not."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not live with Concepcion; don't
+you know I could not, Donito Miguelito?"</p>
+
+<p>"The thought is impossible, my Pearl.
+Speaking with all possible respect, the Se&ntilde;ora
+Montfort, though high-born and accomplished,
+is a hysterical wildcat. You did well, my
+child; you did extremely well. So long as I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+have found you, nothing matters; but, nothing
+at all. As my great, my gigantic friend, my
+colossal preserver, el Capitan Gimmo, says,
+'Ourrah for oz!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Hurrah!" shouted the rough riders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>ANOTHER CAMP.</h3>
+
+
+<p>They made but a brief halt at the ruined
+farm. The house was completely gutted;
+the widow of Don Annunzio had the clothes
+she stood in, and nothing beside. She stood
+quietly by while her husband's body was laid
+in the grave beside that of young Cerito; a
+shallow grave, hastily dug in what had lately
+been the garden. She listened with the same
+quiet face while good old Don Miguel, with
+faltering voice, recited a Latin prayer. She
+was a Methodist, he a fervent Catholic; but
+it mattered little at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>By this time it was daylight. A small
+patch of bananas was found, that had escaped
+the destroying torch, and on these the
+party made a hasty meal; then they rode<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+away, all save the negroes, who preferred to
+stay in the neighbourhood where their lives
+had been spent.</p>
+
+<p>They rode slowly, in deference to Don
+Miguel's age and that of his pony. Rita,
+riding beside the good old man, listened to
+the recital of his terrors and anxieties from
+the time her flight was discovered to the
+present moment. These caused her real
+grief, and she begged again and again for
+the forgiveness which he assured her was
+wholly unnecessary. But when he described
+the hysterical rage of her stepmother, her
+eyes brightened, and the colour came back to
+her pale cheek. She had no doubt that Concepcion
+Montfort was sorry to lose her; the
+larger part of her father's fortune had been
+settled upon her, Rita, before his second
+marriage.</p>
+
+<p>"The se&ntilde;ora also has made diligent search
+for you, my child!" said Don Miguel. "She
+has offered ample rewards&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I know it!" said Rita. "Only yesterday&mdash;can
+it be that it was only yesterday?&mdash;Don
+Diego Moreno was here&mdash;there, I
+should say, at that peaceful home that is now
+a heap of ashes. These Spaniards!"</p>
+
+<p>Had she seen Don Diego? the old man
+asked; and he seemed relieved when she
+answered in the negative.</p>
+
+<p>"It is well; it is well!" he said. "He is
+a relative of the se&ntilde;ora's, I am aware; but it
+would have been unsuitable, most unsuitable."</p>
+
+<p>"What would have been unsuitable, Donito
+Miguelito?"</p>
+
+<p>Don Miguel looked confused. "A&mdash;nothing,
+my child. The Se&ntilde;ora Montfort had an
+idea&mdash;Don Diego made certain advances&mdash;in
+short, he would have asked for your hand,
+my se&ntilde;orita&mdash;well, my Margarita, if you
+will have it so. But I took it upon myself
+to refuse these overtures without consulting
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Rita heard a low exclamation, and turning,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+saw Delmonte's face like dark fire beside
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I could
+not help hearing. Don Miguel, if Diego Moreno
+makes any more such proposals, kindly
+let me know, and I'll shoot him at sight."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;thank you! thank you, my son!"
+said Don Miguel, somewhat fluttered. "I
+hope no violence will be necessary. I used
+strong language, very strong language, to
+Don Diego Moreno. I&mdash;I told him that
+I considered him a person entirely objectionable,
+unfit to sweep the road before the Se&ntilde;orita
+Montfort's feet. He went away very
+angry. I thought we should hear no more of
+him; but it seems that he still retains his
+presumptuous idea. Without doubt, it will
+be best, my dear child, for you to seek the
+northern home of your family without delay."</p>
+
+<p>Why, at this obviously sensible remark,
+should Rita feel a sinking at the heart, and a
+sudden anger against her dear old friend?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+And again, why, on stealing a glance at Delmonte,
+and seeing the trouble reflected in his
+face, should her heart as suddenly spring up
+again, and dance within her? What had
+happened?</p>
+
+<p>They had ridden some miles, when Jim
+Montfort, on his big gray horse, ranged alongside
+of Delmonte.</p>
+
+<p>"It appears to me," he said, "that something
+is going on in these woods here. I've
+seen two or three bits of brown that weren't
+bark, and if I didn't catch the shine of a gun-barrel
+just now, you may call me a Dutchman.
+I think I'll fire, and see what
+happens."</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't do that!" said Delmonte,
+quietly. "It's only my fellows. They've
+been keeping alongside for the last half-mile,
+waiting for a signal. They might as well
+come out now."</p>
+
+<p>He gave a low call in two notes; the call
+Rita had heard&mdash;was it only the night be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>fore?
+it seemed as if a week had passed since
+then.</p>
+
+<p>The call was answered from the wood; and
+as if by magic, from every tree, from every
+clump of bushes, came stealing lean brown
+figures, leading equally lean horses, all
+armed and on the alert. They saluted, and,
+at a word from the burly Juan, fell into order
+with the precision of a troop on drill.</p>
+
+<p>"What's all this, Juan?" asked Delmonte.
+"No order was given."</p>
+
+<p>Juan replied with submission that a negro
+boy had brought news an hour ago that Don
+Annunzio's house had been burned, he and
+his whole household murdered, and their
+captain taken prisoner; and that the latter
+was being brought in irons along the road to
+Santiago. They, Juan and the rest, had
+planned a rescue, and disposed themselves to
+that end in the most advantageous manner.
+That they were about to fire, when they recognised
+their captain's escort as Americans;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+and that they then resolved to accompany
+the party as quietly as might be till they
+came near the camp, and then make their
+presence known to all, as they had at
+once made it known to Delmonte himself
+by a low call which only he had noticed.</p>
+
+<p>"Not wishing to intrude," Juan concluded,
+with a superb salute.</p>
+
+<p>Delmonte turned to his companions. "Miss
+Montfort," he said, "Captain Montfort&mdash;you'll
+all come up to my place, of course,
+and rest, for to-day, at least. It isn't much
+of a place to ask you to, but&mdash;it's quiet, at
+least, and&mdash;you can rest; and you must be
+half-starved. I know I am."</p>
+
+<p>His face was eager as a boy's. Rita's was
+not less so, as she gazed at the big cousin,
+who stroked his beard as usual, and reflected.</p>
+
+<p>"I did mean to push straight on to Santiago,"
+he said, "but&mdash;it's a good bit of
+a way, to be sure; what do you say, little
+cousin? tired? hey?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Rita blushed. "A&mdash;a little tired, Cousin
+Jim; and <i>very</i> hungry!"</p>
+
+<p>This settled it. Captain Montfort bid Delmonte
+"fire away." The latter said a few
+rapid words to Juan, and the scout shot off
+like an arrow across the fields, riding as if
+for his life.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, the whole party was seated
+around a fire, in as comfortable a nook of the
+hills as guerilla leader could desire, sipping
+coffee, and eating broiled chicken and fried
+bananas, fresh from the <i>parilla</i>. The fire
+was built against a great rock that rose
+abruptly from the dell, forming one side of
+it, and towering so high that the smoke disappeared
+before it reached the top. Thick
+woods framed the other sides of the natural
+fastness, and here the Cuban riders could lie
+hidden for days and weeks, unsuspected, unseen,
+save by the wandering birds that now
+and then circled above their heads. No tents
+or huts here; the horses were tethered to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+trees; the commander's hammock was
+swung in a shady thicket near the great
+rock; as for his men, a ragged blanket
+and the "soft side of a stone" were all they
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Rita had dressed Captain Delmonte's
+wound, and bandaged the arm in approved
+style, Cousin Jim looking on with grunts of
+approval. He and Delmonte himself both
+assured her that, if they were handling it,
+they should simply squirt carbolic acid into
+it, and tie it up with anything that came
+handy; but Rita shook her head gravely, and
+three of her delicate handkerchiefs, brought
+from the long-suffering bag which Manuela
+had somehow managed to save from the
+ruins, torn into strips, made a very sufficient
+bandage. The wound was, in truth, slight.
+Delmonte looked almost as if he wished it
+more severe, for the whole matter of bathing
+and dressing could not be stretched beyond
+ten minutes; but Rita's pride in her neat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>
+bandage was pretty to see, and he watched
+her with delighted eyes through every
+stage.</p>
+
+<p>"Snug quarters!" said Jim Montfort, approvingly,
+as, the breakfast over, he stretched
+his huge length along the grass and looked
+about him; and all the party echoed his
+opinion. The two captains fell into talk of
+the war and its ways, while the women,
+wearied out, rested after their long night
+of distress and fatigue. Marm Prudence
+chose the dry grass, with a cloak for a
+pillow, but Rita curled herself thankfully in
+Captain Jack's hammock, after trying in vain
+to persuade him that he was an invalid, and
+ought to take it himself. After some rummaging
+in a hole in the rock which served
+him for cupboard and wardrobe, Delmonte
+brought her a small pillow in a somewhat
+weather-beaten cover. "I wish I had a better
+one," he said. "This has been out in the
+rain a good deal, and I'm afraid it smells<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+of smoke, but it's a great pillow for sleeping
+on."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you!" said Rita. "It is very
+comfortable indeed. How good you are to
+me, Captain Delmonte. And whatever you
+may say, it is a great shame for me to take
+your own hammock. If there were only
+another&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please don't!" said Jack. "It's
+really&mdash;you must not talk so, Miss Montfort.
+As if there was anything I wouldn't
+do&mdash;why, this hammock will never be the
+same again. I&mdash;I mean&mdash;oh, you know
+what I mean, and I never could make pretty
+speeches. But&mdash;it is a pleasure, and&mdash;an
+honour, to have you here; and you can't
+think how much it means to me. Good
+night! I mean&mdash;sleep well."</p>
+
+<p>He added a few words of a German song
+relative to the desirability of a certain lovely
+angel's slumbering sweetly. Rita did not
+understand German, but the tone of Del<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>monte's
+voice was in no particular language,
+and, tired as she was, it was some time before
+she went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>It was late afternoon when they took the
+road again. Before starting they held a council,
+seated together beneath the great tree,
+under whose shade Rita had slept peacefully
+for several hours. Jim Montfort was the first
+speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"I take it," he said, "we'd better, each
+one of us, say what we mean to do. Then
+the sky will be clear, and we can fit in or
+shake apart, as seems best in each case. We
+all ride together to Pine del Rio, as Captain
+Delmonte is so friendly as to ride with us.
+After that&mdash;I'll begin with you, ma'am."
+He addressed, the widow respectfully. "How
+can I best serve you? I am going to see
+my cousin safe off, and you must call upon
+me for any service I can possibly render
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"She will stay with me!" cried Rita.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+"Dear Marm Prudence, you will stay with
+me, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>Marm Prudence shook her head, though
+with a look of infinite kindliness. "Thank
+you, dear," she said; "it's like you to say it,
+but I'm going home to Greenvale, Vermont.
+I've a sister living there yet. I'll go back to
+my own folks at last, and lay my bones alongside
+o' mother's. I'll never forgit you, though,
+Miss Margaritty," she added, "nor you, Cap'n
+Jack. There! I can't say much yet."</p>
+
+<p>She turned away, and all were silent for
+a moment, as she wiped the tears from her
+rugged face.</p>
+
+<p>"You go straight home, I suppose, sir?"
+said Jim, addressing Don Miguel.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes!" cried the little gentleman. "I
+go to Pine del Rio with my dear ward here.
+To see her safe on board a good vessel, bound
+for the North; to say farewell to the joy of
+my old days, and put out the light of my
+eyes&mdash;that is my one sad desire, Se&ntilde;or Mont<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>fort.
+After that&mdash;I am old, I have but a
+short time left, and my prayers will require
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, it seems as if the first thing
+on all hands was to find a steamer sailing for
+home," said Jim. "If Mrs. Annunzio will
+take charge of you, Cousin Rita, I think that
+will be the best thing. Uncle John will send
+some one to meet you in New York and take
+you to Fernley. How does that suit you?"</p>
+
+<p>Rita was silent. She had grown very pale.
+Delmonte looked at her eagerly, but did not
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, little cousin?" repeated
+Montfort. "You have a mind of your own,
+and a pretty decided one, if I'm not mistaken.
+Let's hear it!"</p>
+
+<p>Rita spoke slowly and with difficulty, her
+ready flow of speech lacking for once.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Jim&mdash;dear Don Miguel&mdash;you are
+both so kind, so good. You too, Marm Prudence.
+I love the North. I love my dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+uncle and cousin&mdash;ah, how dearly!&mdash;but&mdash;I
+do not want to go to Fernley."</p>
+
+<p>"Not want to go!" repeated the others.</p>
+
+<p>"No! indeed, indeed, I cannot go. I have
+been thinking, Cousin Jim, a great deal, while
+all these things have been happening; these
+wonderful, terrible things. I&mdash;I ought to
+have learned a great deal; I hope I have
+learned a little. I have talked enough about
+helping my country; too much I have talked;
+now I want to do something. I am going to
+work in one of the hospitals. Nurses are
+needed, I know, every day more of them.
+I do not know enough&mdash;yet&mdash;to be a nurse,
+but I can be a helper. I am very humble; I
+will do the meanest work, but&mdash;but that is
+what I mean to do."</p>
+
+<p>She ceased, and all the others, looking in
+her face, saw it bright and lovely with earnest
+resolve. But Don Miguel cried out in expostulation.
+It was impossible, he said. It could
+not be. She was too young, too delicate, too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>&mdash;the
+proposition was monstrous. He appealed
+to Captain Montfort to support him,
+to exercise his authority, to persuade this
+dear child that the noble idea which filled
+her young and ardent heart was wholly
+impracticable.</p>
+
+<p>Jim Montfort was silent for a time, looking
+at Rita from under his heavy eyebrows. Presently&mdash;"You
+mean it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it with all my heart!" said Rita.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Jim, "my opinion is&mdash;considering
+my sister Peggy and her views, to
+say nothing of Jean and Flora&mdash;my opinion
+is, Rita&mdash;hurrah for you!"</p>
+
+<p>A month ago, Rita would have gone into
+violent heroics at such a moment as this. As
+it was, she smiled, though her eyes filled with
+tears, and said, quietly, "Thank you, cousin!
+It is what I expected from Peggy's brother."</p>
+
+<p>"May I speak?" said another voice. They
+turned, and saw Jack Delmonte, his blue eyes
+alight with eager gladness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If&mdash;if Miss Montfort has this noble desire
+to help in the good cause," he said, "it is easy
+for her to do it. My mother has turned her
+<i>residencia</i>, just outside the city, into a hospital.
+I am going there to-day. She needs
+more help, I know. You&mdash;you would like
+my mother, Miss Montfort; everybody likes
+my mother. She would do all she could to
+make it easy for you, and she would be so
+glad&mdash;oh, I can't tell you how glad she
+would be. And I think you are quite certain
+to like her."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Rita. "Have I not heard of
+the Saint of Las Rosas? There is no need to
+tell me how good and how noble the Se&ntilde;ora
+Delmonte is. But&mdash;but will she like me,
+Captain&mdash;Captain Jack?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will she?" said Jack. "Will the sun
+shine?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.</h3>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Las Rosas</span>, June &mdash;, 1898.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Uncle John:</span>&mdash;Since I last wrote
+you, telling of our finding Rita, and of her
+safe delivery to Se&ntilde;ora Delmonte, things have
+been happening. In the first place, I got a
+shot in my leg, in a skirmish, and, as the
+bone was broken, and it didn't seem to come
+round as it ought, I came here to be coddled,
+and am having a great time of it. Se&ntilde;ora
+Delmonte is a fine woman, sir. You don't
+see many such women in a lifetime. She has
+a little hospital here, as complete as if she had
+New York City in her back dooryard; all her
+own place, you understand. Kind of Florence
+Nightingale woman. What's more, little Rita<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+promises to become her right hand; if she's
+given a chance, that is&mdash;I'll come to that by
+and by, though. The way that little girl
+takes hold, sir, is a caution. She's quick,
+and she's quiet, and she's cheerful; and she
+has brains in her head, which is a mighty
+good thing in a woman when you do find it.
+She and Se&ntilde;ora Delmonte are like mother
+and daughter already; and this brings me to
+something else I want to say. It's pretty
+clear that Jack Delmonte has lost his heart
+to this little girl of ours. It began, I suspect,
+the night he carried her off from the Spaniards;
+you have heard all about that; and
+it's been going on here, while a little flesh
+wound he had was healing. Yes, sir, he's in
+it deep, and no mistake; and, for that matter,
+I guess she is, too, though those things aren't
+in my line. Anyhow, what I want to say
+is this: Jack Delmonte is as fine a fellow
+as there is this side of the Rockies; and I
+don't know that I'll stop there, barring my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+brother Hugh. This war isn't going to last
+much longer. By some kind of miracle, this
+place&mdash;sugar plantation, and well paying in
+good times&mdash;hasn't been meddled with; and
+Jack ought to be able to support a wife, if he
+puts good work into the business, as he will.
+He's a first-rate all-round fellow, and has
+brains in his head&mdash;said that before, didn't
+I? well, it's a good thing in a man, too. I'm
+not much of a hand at writing, as I guess
+you'll see. All I mean to say is, if he and
+little Rita want to hitch up a double team,
+my opinion is it would be a mighty good
+thing, and I hope you'll give them your
+blessing and all that sort of thing, when
+the time comes.</p>
+
+<p>Much obliged for your letter, but sorry your
+knee still bothers you. Father has been laid
+up, too, so he writes; rheumatism. I'm getting
+on first-rate, and shall be out of this soon. I
+think a month or so more will see the whole
+blooming business over, and peace declared.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>
+Time, too! this is no kind of a country to
+stay in.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your affectionate nephew,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">James Montfort.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>P.S. Tell Cousin Margaret that J. D. is
+<i>all right</i>.<br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Las Rosas</span>, June &mdash;, 1898.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Montfort:</span>&mdash;I wonder if
+you remember Mary Russell, with whom you
+used to dance now and then when you came
+to Claxton in the old days, we will not say
+how many years ago. I certainly have not
+forgotten the pleasant partner who waltzed so
+well, and I am glad to have the opportunity
+of claiming acquaintance with you. I meant
+to write as soon as your niece arrived at my
+house, but the battle in this neighbourhood the
+day after brought us such an influx of wounded
+that my hands were very full, and the hasty
+dictated line was all I could manage. We are
+now in a little eddy of the storm (which, we
+hope, is nearly over), and have only a dozen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+men in the house, and most of these convalescent;
+so I must not delay longer in assuring
+you of the very great pleasure and help it has
+been to me to have Margarita with me. Indeed,
+I hardly know what I should have done
+without her the first week, as two of my
+nurses were ill just at the time when we
+were fullest. She shows a remarkable aptitude
+for nursing, which is rather singular,
+as she tells me that until lately she has been
+extremely timid about such matters, fainting
+at the sight of blood, etc. You never would
+think it now, to see her going about her work
+in the wards. The patients idolise her, and
+what is more (and less common), so do the
+nurses, who declare that she will miss her
+vocation if she does not go into a training-school
+as soon as she leaves Las Rosas; but
+I fancy you would not choose so arduous a
+life for her.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 331px;">
+<img src="images/gs08.png" width="331" height="400" alt="&quot;THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER.&quot;" title="&quot;THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER.&quot;" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>This brings me, my dear Mr. Montfort, to
+what is really the chief object in my writing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+to you to-day. Without beating about the
+bush, I am going to say, at once and frankly,
+that my dear son, Jack, has become deeply
+attached to this charming niece of yours.
+Who could be surprised at it? she must
+always have been charming; but the sweetness
+and thoughtfulness that I have seen
+growing day by day while she has been
+under my charge are, I somehow fancy, a
+new phase of her development. Indeed, Rita
+herself has told me, in her vivid way, of
+some of the wild pranks of her "unguided
+youth," as she calls it,&mdash;the child will be
+nineteen, I believe, on her next birthday!&mdash;and
+we have laughed and shaken our heads
+together over them. She is far more severe
+upon herself than I can be, for I see the quick,
+impulsive nature, and see, too, how it is being
+subdued and brought more and more under
+control by a strong will and a good heart.
+A very noble woman our Rita will make, if
+she has the right surroundings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Can we give her these? that is the question;
+a question for you to answer, dear Mr.
+Montfort. Jack saw readily, when I pointed
+it out to him, that it would not be suitable
+for him to speak of love to an orphan girl&mdash;an
+heiress, too, I believe&mdash;without her guardian's
+express consent. He chafes at the delay,
+for he is very ardent, being half Cuban; but
+you may have entire confidence that he will
+say nothing to Rita until I hear from you.</p>
+
+<p>You can easily find out about Jack; there
+is nothing in his life that he need conceal.
+Colonel G. and Mrs. B&mdash;&mdash;, in New York, Professor
+Searcher and Doctor Lynx, of Blank
+College, will tell you of his school and college
+days; and Captain Montfort will, I think,
+say a good word for his record as a soldier
+and a patriot. Of course, in my eyes, he is a
+little bit of a hero; but maternal prejudice
+laid aside (if such a thing may be!), I can
+truly say that he is a clean, honest, high-minded
+man, with a sound constitution and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
+an excellent disposition. Add to this a moderate
+income (not, I am happy to say, enough
+to allow him to dispense with work, were he
+inclined to do so, which he is not), and a
+very earnest and devoted attachment, and
+you have the whole case before you. May
+I hope to have your answer as soon as you
+shall have satisfied yourself on the various
+points on which you will naturally seek information?
+I assure you that, with the best
+intentions in the world, Jack does find it
+hard to restrain himself. Let me add that,
+if your answer is favourable, it will make
+me as well as my son very happy. Rita is
+all that I could wish for in a daughter; and
+I shall try my best to fill a mother's place
+toward her.</p>
+
+<p>In any case, believe me, dear Mr. Montfort,</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 8em;">Cordially yours,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Mary Russell Delmonte.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>P.S. You may ask, does Rita return Jack's
+affection? <i>I think she does!</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Santiago</span>, June &mdash;, 1898.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Honoured Se&ntilde;or:</span>&mdash;Your valued letter,
+containing inquiries on the subject of Se&ntilde;or
+Captain John Delmonte is at hand and contents
+notified. I hasten to reply with all the
+ardour of which I am capacious. This young
+man is a nobleman; few princes have equalled
+him in virtuous worth. Brave, honourable,
+pious (though Protestant; but this belief is
+probably your own, and is held by many of
+those most valuable to me, your honoured
+brother among them), a faithful and obedient
+son, a leader beloved to rapture by his
+soldiers. If more could be to say, I would
+hasten to cry it aloud. You tell me, with
+noble frankness, he is a pretender for the
+hand of my beloved Margarita; already it
+has been my happiness to be aware of it.
+Se&ntilde;or Montfort, to see these two admirable
+young persons united in the holy bondages
+of weddinglock is the last and chief wish
+of my life. I earnestly beg your sanction of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+their unition. In Jack I find a son for my
+solitary age; in Margarita a daughter, the
+most tender as she is the most beautiful that
+the world contains. To close my aged eyes
+on seeing them unified, is, I repeat it, the one
+wish of,</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 6em;">Honoured Se&ntilde;or,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Your most obedient and humble servitor,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Miguel Pietoso.</span><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Las Rosas</span>, June &mdash;, 1898.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Monfort:</span>&mdash;I have just
+read your letter to my mother, and I want to
+thank you before I do anything else. There
+isn't much to say, except that I will do my
+best to be in some degree worthy of this treasure,
+if I win it. I will try to make her happy,
+sir, I will indeed. No one could be good
+enough for her, so I will not pretend to that.</p>
+
+<p>She is awake now, so I must go.</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">Gratefully yours,</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">John Delmonte.</span><br /><br /><br /></div><p>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Las Rosas</span>, Evening.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dearest, dearest Margaret:</span>&mdash;Why are
+you not here? I want you&mdash;oh, I want you
+so much! I am so happy, so wonderfully,
+almost <i>terribly</i> happy, how can I put it on
+paper? The paper will light itself, will burn
+up for joy, I think; but I will try. Listen!
+an hour ago&mdash;it is an evening of heaven, the
+moon was shining for me, for me and&mdash;oh,
+but wait! I was in the garden, resting after
+the day's work; I had been asleep, and now
+would take the remainder of my free time
+in waking rest. The air was balm, the roses
+all in blossom. Such roses were never seen,
+Marguerite; the place is named for them,
+Las Rosas. They are in bowers, in garlands,
+in heaps and mounds&mdash;I smell them now.
+The rose is my flower, remember that, my
+life long. I used to tell you it was the
+jessamine; the jessamine is a simpleton, I
+tell you. I was picking white roses, the
+kind that blushes a little warm at its heart&mdash;when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+I heard some one coming. I knew
+who it was; can I tell how? It was Captain
+Jack. I trembled. He came to me, he spoke,
+he took my hand. Oh, my dear, my dear,
+I cannot tell you what he said; but he loves
+me; he is my Jack, I am his Rita. Marguerite,
+will you tell me how it can be true?
+Your wild, silly, foolish Rita, playing at
+emotions all her childish life: she wakes up,
+she begins to try to be a little like you, my
+best one; and all of a sudden she finds herself
+in Paradise, with a warrior angel&mdash;Marguerite,
+I did not think of it till this moment;
+my Jack is the express image of St. Michael.
+His nose tips up the least bit in the world&mdash;I
+don't mind it; it gives life, dash, to his
+wonderful face; otherwise there is <i>no</i> difference.
+My St. Michael! my soldier, my Star
+of Horsemen! Marguerite, no girl was
+ever so happy since the world was made.
+Oh, don't think me fickle; let me tell you!
+In the South here, are we different? It must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+be so. I <i>was</i> fond of Santayana; but that
+was in another life. I was a sentimental,
+passionate child; he was handsome as a
+picture; it was a dream of seventeen. Now&mdash;can
+you believe that I am a little grown
+up? I really think I am. Perhaps I think
+it most because now, for the first time, I
+<i>really</i> want to be like you, Marguerite. I
+used to be so pleased with being myself&mdash;I
+was the vainest creature that ever lived.
+Now, I want to be like you instead; I want
+to be a good woman, a good wife. Ah! what
+a wife you will make if you marry! But
+how can you marry, my poor darling? There
+is only one man in the world good enough
+for you, and he is mine. I cannot give him
+up, even to you, my saint. I have two saints
+now; I ought to be a Catholic. The second
+one is his mother, the Saint of Las Rosas, as
+she is called all through this part of the
+island. Marguerite, I must strive to grow
+like her, too, if such a thing were possible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+I have work enough for my life, but what
+blessed work! to try to make myself worthy
+of Jack Delmonte, my Jack, my own!</p>
+
+<p>He took me to his mother; I have just
+come from her. I am her daughter from
+that moment, she says; oh, Marguerite, I
+will try to be a good one. Hear me&mdash;no!
+I am not going to make vows any more, or
+talk like girls in novels; I am just going to
+try. I loved her from the first moment I
+saw her grave, beautiful face. She took me
+in her arms, my dear; she said things&mdash;I
+have come up here to weep alone, tears of
+happiness. Dearest, you alone knew thoroughly
+the old Rita, the foolish creature, who
+dies, in a way, to-night. Say good-bye to her;
+give her a kiss, Marguerite, for she too loved
+you; but not half as dearly as does the new,
+happy, blessed</p>
+
+<div class='right'>
+<span class="smcap">Margarita de San Real Montfort.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<h2>THE END.</h2>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>Corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Rita
+
+Author: Laura E. Richards
+
+Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2008 [EBook #24827]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RITA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+RITA
+
+
+
+
+        BOOKS FOR GIRLS
+        By Laura E. Richards
+
+        _The_ MARGARET SERIES
+
+        Three Margarets
+        Margaret Montfort
+        Peggy
+        Rita
+        Fernley House
+
+
+        _The_ HILDEGARDE SERIES
+
+        Queen Hildegarde
+        Hildegarde's Holiday
+        Hildegarde's Home
+        Hildegarde's Neighbors
+        Hildegarde's Harvest
+
+
+        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+        Publishers
+        Estes Press, Summer St., Boston
+
+
+[Illustration: "RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED."]
+
+
+
+
+RITA
+
+BY
+
+LAURA E. RICHARDS
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+        "PEGGY," "MARGARET MONTFORT," "THREE
+        MARGARETS," ETC.
+
+        Illustrated by
+        ETHELDRED B. BARRY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+        BOSTON
+        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
+        PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+        _Copyright, 1900_
+        BY DANA ESTES& COMPANY
+
+
+        Colonial Press
+        Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+        Boston, Mass., U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+                  TO
+
+          FIVE GIRLS I KNOW
+
+        IN THE TOWN OF SAINT JO
+
+        If this story should seem extravagant to any of
+        my readers, I can only refer them to some one
+        of the many published accounts of the
+        Spanish-American War. They will find that many
+        delicate and tenderly nurtured girls were
+        forced to endure dangers and privations
+        compared to which Rita's adventures seem like
+        child's play.
+
+                                             L. E. R.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+        CHAPTER                            PAGE
+           I. THREATENING WEATHER            11
+          II. THE STORM BURSTS               23
+         III. ON THE WAY                     33
+          IV. THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS       54
+           V. TO MARGARET                    77
+          VI. IN THE NIGHT                   93
+         VII. CAMP SCENE                    110
+        VIII. THE PACIFICOS                 130
+          IX. IN HIDING                     142
+           X. MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY         163
+          XI. CAPTAIN JACK                  176
+         XII. FOR LIFE                      190
+        XIII. MEETINGS AND GREETINGS        200
+         XIV. ANOTHER CAMP                  216
+          XV. A FOREGONE CONCLUSION         233
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+                                                    PAGE
+
+  "RITA MONTFORT DREW HER DAGGER AND WAITED"     _Frontispiece_
+
+  IN THE GARDEN                                       21
+
+  "THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO
+      THE GLOWING FACE"                               43
+
+  "'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. 'SIT STILL'"         104
+
+  "'WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?'"             147
+
+  "'I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART
+      IN MY MOUTH'"                                  172
+
+  "NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE"                 205
+
+  "THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER"                         237
+
+
+
+
+RITA.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THREATENING WEATHER.
+
+
+TO SENOR,
+
+        _Senor the illustrious Don John Montfort._
+
+_Honoured Senor and Brother:_--There are several months that I wrote to
+inform you of the deeply deplored death of my lamented husband, Senor
+Don Richard Montfort. Your letter of condolation and advice was balm
+poured upon my bleeding wounds, received before yesterday at the hands
+of my banker, Don Miguel Pietoso. You are the brother of my adored
+husband, your words are as if spoken from his casket. You tell me, stay
+at home, remain in quietness, till these alarms of war are over. Alas!
+respectable senor, to accomplish this? Havana is since the shocking
+affair of the _Maine_ in uproar; on each side are threats, are cries,
+"Death to the Americanos!" My bewept angel, Don Richard, was in his
+heart Spanish, by birth American; I see brows black upon me--me, a
+Castilian!--when I go from my house. Already they speak of to burn the
+houses of wealthy Americans, to drive forth those dwelling in.
+
+Again, senor, my daughter, your niece Margarita--what to do, I ask you,
+of this young person? She is Cuban, she is fanatic, she is impossible. I
+apply myself to instruct her as her station and fortune demand, as
+befits a Spanish lady of rank; she insubordinates me, she makes mockery
+of my position as head of her house. She teach her parrot to cry "Viva
+Cuba Libre!" She play at open windows her guitar, songs of Cuban rebels,
+forbidden by the authorities. I exert my power, I exhort, I
+command,--she laughs me at the nose, and sings more loud. I attend that
+in few days we are all the two in prison. What to do? you already know
+that her betrothed, Senor Santillo de Santayana, is dead a year ago of a
+calenture. Her grief was excessive; she intended to die, and made
+preparation costing large sums of money for her obsequies. She forget
+all now, she says, for her country. In this alarming time, the freedom
+her father permitted her (his extreme philanthropy overcoming his
+judgmatism) becomes impossible. I implore you, highly honoured senor and
+brother, to write your commands to this unhappy child, that she submit
+herself to me, her guardian in nature, until you can assert your legal
+potencies. I intend shortly to make retreat in the holy convent of the
+White Sisters, few miles from here. Rita accompanionates me, and I trust
+there to change the spirit of rebellion so shocking in a young person
+unmarried, into the soul docile and sheep-like as becomes a highly
+native Spanish maiden. The Sisters are of justice celebrated for their
+pious austerities and the firmness of their rule. Rita will remain with
+them until peace is assured, or until your emissaries apport distinct
+advice.
+
+For me, your kind and gracious inquiries would have watered my heart
+were it not already blasted. Desolation must attend my remaining years;
+but through them all I shall be, dear senor and brother, your most
+grateful and in affliction devoted sister and servant,
+
+                               MARIA CONCEPCION DE NARAGUA MONTFORT.
+  _Havana, April 30, 1898._
+
+
+DEAREST, DEAREST UNCLE:--My stepmother says she has written to you
+concerning me. I implore you, as you loved your brother, my sainted
+father, to believe no single word she says. This woman is of a
+duplicity, a falseness, impossible for your lofty soul to comprehend.
+It needs a Cuban, my uncle, to understand a Spaniard. She wants to take
+me to the convent, to those terrible White Sisters, who will shave my
+head and lacerate my flesh with heated scourges,--Manuela has told me
+about them; scourges of iron chains knotted and made hot,--me, a
+Protestant, daughter of a free American. Uncle John, it is my corpse
+alone that she will carry there, understand that! Never will I go alive.
+I have daggers; here on my wall are many of them, beautifully arranged;
+I polish them daily, it is my one mournful pleasure; they are sharp as
+lightning, and their lustre dazzles the eye. I have poison also; a drop,
+and the daughter of your brother is white and cold at the feet of her
+murderess. Enough! she will be avenged. Carlos Montfort lives; and you,
+too, I know it, I feel it, would spring, would leap across the sea to
+avenge your Rita, who fondly loves you. Hear me swear, my uncle, on my
+knees; never, never will I go alive to that place of death, the convent.
+(I pray you to pardon this blot; I spilt the ink, kneeling in passion;
+what would you have?)
+
+                                              Your unhappy
+                                                       RITA.
+
+
+BELOVED MARGUERITE:--I have written to our dear and honoured uncle of
+the perils which surround me. My life, my reason, are at stake. It may
+be that I have but a few weeks more to live. Every day, therefore,
+dearest, let me pour out my soul to you, now my one comfort on earth,
+since my heart was laid in the grave of my Santayana.
+
+It is night; all the house is wrapped in slumber; I alone wake and weep.
+I seldom sleep now, save by fitful snatches. I sit as at this moment, by
+my little table, my taper illuminated, in my peignoir (you would be
+pleased with my peignoir, my poor Marguerite! it is white _mousseline
+d'Inde_, flowing very full from the shoulders, falling in veritable
+clouds about me, with deep ruffles of Valenciennes and bands of
+insertion; the ribbons white, of course; maidens should mourn in white,
+is it not so, Marguerite? no colour has approached me since my
+bereavement; fortunately black and white are both becoming to me, while
+that other, Concepcion, looks like a sick orange in either. Even the
+flowers in my room are solely white.)
+
+It seems a thousand years since I heard from you, my cool snow-pearl of
+cousins. Write more often to your Rita, she implores you. I pine for
+news of you, of Uncle John, of all at dear, dear Fernley. Alas! how
+young I was there! a simple child, sporting among the Northern daisies.
+Now, in the whirlwind of my passionate existence, I look back to that
+peaceful summer. For you, Marguerite, the green oasis, the palm-trees,
+the crystal spring; for me, the sand storm and the fiery death. No
+matter! I live and die a daughter of Cuba, the gold star on my brow,
+the three colours painted on my heart. Good night, beloved! I kiss the
+happy paper that goes to you. Till to-morrow, and while I live,
+
+                                                        Your
+                                                          RITA.
+
+
+                                                HAVANA, May 1, 1898.
+
+Not until afternoon goes the mail steamer, Marguerite, only pearl of my
+heart. I wrote you a few burning words last night; then I flung myself
+on my bed, hoping to lose my sorrows for a few minutes in sleep. I
+slept, a thing hardly known to me at present; it was the sleep of
+exhaustion, Marguerite. When I woke, Manuela was putting back the
+curtains to let in the light of dawn. It is still early morning, fresh
+and dewy, and I am here in the garden. At no time of the day is the
+garden more beautiful than now, in the purity of the day's birth. I have
+described it to you at night, with the _cocuyos_ gleaming like lamps in
+the green dusk of the orange-trees, or the moonlight striking the world
+to silver. I wish you could see it now--this garden of my soul, so soon,
+it may be, to be destroyed by ruthless hands of savage Spaniards. The
+palms stand like stately pillars; till the green plumes wave in the
+morning breeze, one fancies a temple or cathedral, with aisles of
+crowned verdure. Behind these stand the banana-trees, rows and rows,
+with clusters hanging thick, crimson and gold. Would Peggy be happy
+here, do you think? Poor little Peggy! How often I long to cut down a
+tree, to send her whole bunches of the fruit she delights in. The
+mangoes, too! I used to think I could not live without mangoes. When I
+went to you, it appeared that I must die without my fruits; now their
+rich pulp dries untasted by my lips: what have I to do with food, save
+the bare necessary to support what life remains? I am waiting now for my
+coffee; at this moment Manuela brings it, with the grape-fruit and
+rolls, and places it here on the table of green marble, close by the
+fountain where I sit. The fountain soothes my suffering heart, as it
+tinkles in the broad basin of green marble. Nature, Marguerite, speaks
+to the heart of despair. You have not known despair, my best one; may it
+be long, long before you do. Among her other vices, this woman,
+Concepcion, would like to starve me, in my own house. She counts the
+rolls, she knows how many lumps of sugar I put in my coffee; an hour
+will dawn--I say no more! I am patient, Marguerite, I am forbearing, a
+statue, marble in the midst of fire; but beyond a certain point I will
+not endure persecution, and I say to you, let Concepcion Montfort, the
+widow of my sainted father, beware!
+
+[Illustration: IN THE GARDEN.]
+
+Adios, my Magnolia Flower! I must feed my birds. Already they are awake
+and calling the mistress they love. They hang--I have told you--in large
+airy cages, all round under the eaves of the summer-house beside the
+fountain. They are beautiful, Margaret, the Java sparrows, the little
+love-birds, the splendid macaw, the paroquets, and mocking-birds; but
+king among them all is Chiquito, our parrot, Marguerite, yours and mine,
+the one link here that binds me to my Northern home; for I may call
+Fernley my home, Uncle John has said it; the lonely orphan can think of
+one spot where tender hearts beat for her, not passionately, but with
+steadfast pulses. Chico is in superb health; he is--I tell you every
+time--a revelation in the animal kingdom. More than this, he is a bird
+of heart; he feels for me, feels intensely, in this dark time. Only
+yesterday he bit old Julio severely; I am persuaded it was his love for
+me that prompted the act. Julio is a Spaniard of the Spaniards, the
+slave of Concepcion. He attempted to cajole my Chico, he offered him
+sugar. To-day he goes with his arm in a sling, and curses the Cuban
+bird, with threats against his life. Never mind, Marguerite! a time will
+soon come--I can say no more. I am dumb; the grave is less silent; but
+do you think your Rita will submit eternally to tyranny and despotism?
+No, you know she will not, it is not her nature. You look, my best one,
+for some outbreak of my passionate nature, you attend that the volcano
+spring some sudden hour into flame, overwhelming all in its path. You
+are right, heart of my heart. You shall not be disappointed. Rita will
+prove herself worthy of your love. How? hush! ask not, dream not! trust
+me and be silent.
+
+                                      MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE STORM BURSTS.
+
+
+GREATLY HONOURED SIR:--I permit myself the privilege of addressing your
+Excellency, my name being known to you as man of business of late your
+admired brother, Senor Don Ricardo Montfort. I find myself, senor, in a
+position of great hardness between the two admirable ladies, Senora
+Montfort, widow of Don Ricardo, and his beautiful daughter, the Senorita
+Margarita. These ladies, admirable, as I have said, in beauty,
+character, and abilities, find it, nevertheless, impossible to live in
+harmony. As man of affairs, I am present at painful scenes, which wring
+the heart. Each cries to me to save her from the other. The senora
+desires to make retreat at the convent of the White Sisters, thrice
+holy and beatified persons, but of a strictness repugnant to the lively
+and ardent spirit of the senorita. Last evening took place a terrible
+enactment, at which I most unluckily assisted. Senora Montfort permitted
+her lofty spirit to assert itself more strongly than her delicate
+corporosity was able to endure, and fell into violent hystericality. Her
+shrieks wanted little of arousing the neighbourhood; the servants became
+appalled and lost their reason. Senorita Margarita maintained her
+calmness, and even refused to consider the senora's condition as
+serious. On the assurance of the young lady and the senora's maid, I was
+obliged to accept the belief that the senora would shortly recover if
+left to herself, and came away in deep grief, leaving that illustrious
+matron--I speak with respect--in fits upon the floor. One would have
+said, a child of six deprived of its toy. Greatly honoured Senor
+Montfort, I am a man no longer young. Having myself no conjugal
+ameliorations, I make no pretence to comprehend the more delicate and
+complex nature of females. I am cut to the heart; the senora scrupled
+not to address me as "Old Fool." Heaven is my witness that I have
+endeavoured of my best lights to smoothen the path for her well-born and
+at present bereaved feet. But what can I do? Neither lady will listen to
+me. The senorita, let me hasten to say, shows me always a tender, I
+might without too great a presumption say a filial, kindness. I held her
+in my arms from the day of her birth, senor; she is the flower of the
+world to me. When she takes me by the hands and says, "Dear old Donito
+Miguelito, let me do as I desire and all will be well!" I have no
+strength to resist her. Had I a house of my own, I would take this
+charming child home with me, to be my daughter while she would; but--a
+bachelor living in two rooms--what would you, senor? it is not
+possible. Deign, I beseech you, to consider this my respectful report,
+and if circumstances are proprietary come to my assistance, or send me
+instructions how to act.
+
+Accept, senor, the assurance of my perfect consideration, and believe me
+
+                              Your obedient, humble servant,
+                                                       MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+TO THE HONOURABLE SENOR DON JOHN MONTFORT.
+
+_Honoured and dear Brother:_--Since I wrote you last week, things the
+most frightful have happened. Rita's conduct grew more and more violent
+and unruled; in despair, I sent for Don Miguel. This old man, though of
+irreproached character, is of a weakness pitiable to see in one wearing
+the form of mankind. I called upon him to uphold me, and command Rita to
+obey the wife of her father. He had only smooth words for each of us,
+and endeavoured to charm this wretched child, when terror should have
+been his weapon. I leave you to imagine if she was influenced by his
+gentle admonitions. To my face she caressed him, and he responded to her
+caresses. Don Miguel is an old man, eighty years of age, but
+nevertheless my anger, my just anger, rose to a height beyond my power
+of control. I fainted from excess of emotion; I lay as one dead, and no
+heart stirred of my sufferings. Since then I have been in my bed, with
+no power more than has a babe of the cradle. This morning Margarita came
+to me and expressed regret for her conduct, saying that she was willing
+from now to submit herself to my righteous authority. I forgave her,--I
+am a Christian, dear brother, and cannot forget the principles of my
+holy religion,--and we embraced with tears. This evening we go to the
+convent, where I hope to find ease for my soul-wounds and to subdue the
+frightful disposition of my stepdaughter. I feel it my duty to relate
+these occurrences to you, dear and honoured brother, for I feel that I
+may succumb under the weight of my afflictions. We start this evening,
+and Don Miguel will inform you of our departure and safe arrival at the
+holy convent, whither he accompanies us.
+
+Permit me to express, dear brother, the sentiments of exalted
+consideration with which I must ever regard you as next in blood to my
+adored consort, and believe me
+
+                           Your devoted,
+                               MARIA CONCEPCION DE NARAGUA MONTFORT.
+
+
+GREATLY HONOURED AND ILLUSTRIOUS SIR:--Let me entreat you to prepare
+yourself for news of alarming nature. Yesterday evening I was honoured
+by the commands of the Senora Montfort, that I convey her and Senorita
+Margarita to the holy convent of the White Sisters. My age, senor, is
+such that a scene of emotion is infinitely distressing to me, but I
+could not disobey the commands of this illustrious lady, the widow of my
+kindest patron and friend. I went, prepared for tears, for outcries,
+perhaps for violent resistance, for the ardent and high-strung nature of
+my beloved Senorita Margarita is well known to me. Figure to yourself,
+honoured senor, my surprise at finding this charming damsel calm,
+composed, even smiling. She greeted me with her accustomed tenderness; a
+more enchanting personality does not, I am assured, adorn the earth than
+that of this lovely child. She bade me have no alarms for her, that all
+was well, she was reconciled to her lot; indeed, she added that she
+could not now wish things otherwise. Amazed, but also enchanted with her
+docility and sweetness, I gave her an old man's blessing, and my prayers
+that the rigour of the holy Sisters might be softened toward her tender
+and high-spirited youth. She replied that she had no fear of the
+Sisters; that in truth she thought they would give her no trouble of
+any kind. I was ravished with this assurance, having, I may confess it
+to you, senor, dreaded the contact between the senorita and the holy
+Mother, a woman of incredible force and piety. But I must hasten my
+narrative. At seven o'clock last evening two volantes were in readiness
+at the door of the Montfort mansion. The first was driven by the
+senora's own man, the second by Pasquale, a negro devoted since
+childhood to the senorita. The senora would have placed her daughter in
+the first of these vehicles; but no! the senorita sprang lightly into
+the second volante, followed by her maid, a young person, also tenderly
+attached to her. Interposing myself to produce calm, I persuade the
+admirable senora to take the position that etiquette commanded, in the
+first carriage. It is done; I seat myself by her side; procession is
+made. The way to the convent of the White Sisters, senor, is a steep
+and rugged one; on either hand are savage passes, are mountains of
+precipitation. To conceive what happened, how is it possible? When we
+reached the convent gate, the second volante was empty. Assassinated
+with terror, I make demand of Pasquale; he admits that he may have slept
+during the long traject up the hill. He swears that he heard no sound,
+that no word was addressed to him. He calls the saints to witness that
+he is innocent; the saints make no reply, but that is not uncommon. I
+search; I rend the air with my cries; alone silence responds to me. The
+senora is carried fainting into the convent, and I return to Havana, a
+man distracted. I should say that in the carriage was found the long
+mantle in which the senorita had been gracefully attired; to its fold a
+note pinned, addressed me in affectionate terms, begging her dear Donito
+Miguelito not to have fear, that she was going to Don Carlos, her
+brother, and all would be well. Since then is two days, senor, that I
+have not closed the eye. I attend a fit of illness, from grief and
+anxiousness. In duty I intelligence you of this dolorous event, praying
+you not to think me guilty of sin without pardon. I have deputed a
+messenger of trust to scrub thoroughly the country in search of Don
+Carlos, death to await him if he return without news of my beloved
+senorita. He is gone now twelve hours. If it arrive me at any moment the
+tidings, I make instantly to convey them to your Excellency, whether of
+joy or affliction.
+
+Receive, highly honoured senor, the assurance of my consideration the
+most elevated.
+
+                                                   MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+ON THE WAY.
+
+
+"Ah, senorita! what will become of us? I can go no farther. Will this
+wilderness never end?"
+
+"Courage, Manuela! Courage, daughter of Cuba! See, it is growing light
+already. Look at those streaks of gold in the east. A few moments, and
+the sky will be bright; then we shall see where we are going, and all
+will be well. In the meantime, we are free, and on Cuban soil. What can
+harm us?"
+
+Rita looked around her with kindling eyes. She was standing on a rock
+that jutted from the hillside; it was a friendly rock, and they had been
+sleeping under it, wrapped in their warm cloaks, for the night was
+cool. A group of palms nodded their green plumes over the rock; on
+every side stretched a tangle of shrubs and tall grasses, broken here
+and there by palms, or by rocks like this. Standing thus in the early
+morning light, Rita was a picturesque figure indeed. She was dressed in
+a blouse and short skirt of black serge, with a white kerchief knotted
+around her throat, and another twisted carelessly around her
+broad-brimmed straw hat. Her beautiful face was alight with eager
+inquiry and determination; her eyes roved over the landscape, as if
+seeking some familiar figure; but all was strange so far. Manuela,
+crouching at the foot of the rock, had lost, for the moment, all the
+fire of her patriotism. She was cold, poor Manuela; also, she had had a
+heavy bag to carry, and her arms ached, and she was hungry, and, if the
+truth must be told, rather cross. It was absurd to bring all these
+things into the desert. What use for the white silk blouse, or the lace
+fichu? but indeed they had no weight, whereas this monster of a--
+
+"How is Chico?" asked Rita, coming down from the rock. "Poor bird! what
+does he think of our wandering? he must be in need of food, Manuela. You
+brought the box of seed?"
+
+"I did, senorita; as to the need of birdseed in a wilderness of hideous
+forest, I have nothing to say. My fingers are so cramped from carrying
+this detestable cage, I shall never recover the full use of them. But
+the senorita must be obeyed."
+
+"Assuredly she must be obeyed!" said Rita; and a flash of her eyes added
+force to the words. "Could I have come away, I ask you, and left this
+faithful, this patriot bird, to starve, or be murdered outright? Old
+Julio would have wrung his neck, you know it well, Manuela, the first
+time he spoke out from his heart, spoke the words of freedom and
+patriotism that his mistress has taught him. Poor Chiquito! thou lovest
+me? thou art glad that I brought thee away from that place of tyranny
+and bloodshed? speak to thy mistress, Chico!"
+
+But Chico's spirits had been ruffled, as well as Manuela's, by being
+carried about in his cage, at unseemly hours, when he should have been
+hanging quietly in the verandah, where he belonged. He looked sulky, and
+only said, "_Caramba! no mi gusta!_"
+
+"He is hungry! he starves!" cried Rita; "give me the seed!" Sitting down
+on the rock, she proceeded to feed the parrot, as composedly as if they
+were indeed on the wide shaded verandah, instead of on a wild hillside,
+far from sight or sound of anything human.
+
+"And the senorita's own breakfast?" said Manuela at last, when Chiquito
+had had enough, and had deigned to relax a little, and even to mutter,
+"_Mi gustan todas!_" "Is the senorita not also dying of hunger? for
+myself, I perish, but that is of little consequence, save that my death
+will leave the senorita alone--with the parrot."
+
+Rita burst into merry laughter. "My poor Manuela!" she said. "Thou shalt
+not perish. Breakfast? we will have it this moment. Where is the bag?"
+
+The bag being produced,--it really was a heavy one, and it was hardly to
+be wondered at that Manuela should be a little peevish about it,--Rita
+drew from it a substantial box of chocolate, and a tin of biscuits. "My
+child, we breakfast!" she announced. "If kings desire to breakfast more
+royally, I make them my compliment. For free Cubans, bread and chocolate
+is a feast. Feast, then, Manuela mine. Eat, and be happy!"
+
+Bread--or rather, delicate biscuits, and chocolate, were indeed a feast
+to the two hungry girls. They nibbled and crunched, and Manuela's
+spirits rose with every bite. Rita's had no need to rise. She was
+having a real adventure; her dreams were coming true; she was a
+bona-fide heroine, in a bona-fide "situation." "What have we in the bag,
+best of Manuelas?" she asked. "I told you in a general way; I even added
+some trifles, for Carlos's comfort; poor dear Carlos! But tell me what
+you put in, my best one!"
+
+Manuela cast a rueful glance at the plump valise.
+
+"The white silk blouse," she said; "the white peignoir with swansdown."
+
+"In case of sickness!" cried Rita, interrupting. "You would not have me
+ill, far from my home, and bereft of every slightest comfort, Manuela?
+surely you would not; I know your kind heart too well. Besides, the
+peignoir weighs nothing; a feather, a puff of vapour. Go on! what else?"
+
+"Changes of linen, of course," said Manuela. "The gold-mounted
+toilet-set; two bottles of eau de Cologne; cigarettes for the Senorito
+Don Carlos; bonbons; the ivory writing-case; the feather fan; three
+pairs of shoes--"
+
+"Enough! enough!" cried Rita. "We shall do well, Manuela. You have been
+an angel of thoughtfulness. You did not bring any jewels? no? I thought
+perhaps the Etruscan gold set, so simple, yet so rich, might suit my
+altered life well enough; but no matter. After all, what have I to do
+with jewels now? The next question is, how are we to find Carlos?"
+
+"To find Don Carlos?" echoed Manuela. "You know where he is, senorita?"
+
+"But, assuredly!" said Rita, and she looked about her confidently. "He
+is--here!"
+
+"Here!" repeated Manuela.
+
+"In the mountains!" said Rita, waving her hand vaguely in the direction
+of the horizon. "It is a search; we must look for him, without doubt;
+but he is--here--somewhere. Come, Manuela, do not look so despairing. I
+tell you, we shall meet friends, it may be at any turn. The mountains
+are full of the soldiers of Cuba; the first ones we meet will take us to
+Carlos."
+
+"Yes," said Manuela. "But what if we met the others, senorita? what if
+we met the Spanish soldiers first? Hark! what was that?"
+
+A sound was heard close behind them; a rustling, sliding sound, as if
+something or somebody were making his way swiftly through the tall
+grass. Manuela clutched her mistress's arm, trembling; Rita, rather
+pale, but composed, looking steadily in the direction of the noise. It
+came nearer--the grass rustled and shook close beside them; and out from
+the tufted tangle came--three large land-crabs, scuttling along on their
+ungainly claws, and evidently in a hurry. Manuela uttered a shriek, but
+Rita laughed aloud.
+
+"Good luck!" she said. "They are good Cubans, the land-crabs. Many a
+good meal has Carlos made on them, poor fellow. If we followed them,
+Manuela? They may be going--somewhere. Let us see!"
+
+The crabs were soon out of sight, but the two girls, taking up their
+burdens, followed in the direction they had taken, along the hillside,
+going they knew not whither.
+
+There seemed to be some faint suggestion of a path. The grasses were
+bent aside, and broken here and there; something had trodden here,
+whether feet of men or of animals one could not tell. But glad to have
+any guide, however insufficient, the girls amused themselves by trying
+to discover fresh marks on tree or shrub or grass-clump. It was a wild
+tangle, palms and mangoes, coarse grass and savage-looking aloes, with
+wild vines running riot everywhere. So far, they had seen no sign of
+human life, and the sun was now well up, his rays beating down bright
+and hot. Suddenly, coming to a turn on the hillside, they heard voices;
+a moment later, and they were standing by a human dwelling.
+
+[Illustration: "THE FAMISHED CHILD LOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TO THE
+GLOWING FACE."]
+
+At first sight it looked more like the burrow of some wild animal. It
+was little more than a hole dug in the side of the clay bank. Some
+boughs and palm-leaves were wattled together to form a rustic porch, and
+under this porch three people were sitting, on the bare ground,--two
+women, one young, the other old, and a little child, evidently belonging
+to the young woman. They were clothed in a few rags; their cheeks were
+hollow with famine, their eyes burning with fever. The old woman was
+stirring a handful of meal into a pot of water; the others looked on
+with painful eagerness. Rita recoiled with a low cry of terror. She had
+heard of this; these were some of the unhappy peasants who had been
+driven from their farms. She had never seen anything like it before.
+This--this was not the play she had come to see.
+
+The women looked up, and saw the two girls standing near. Instantly they
+began to cry out, in wailing voices. "Go! go away! there is nothing for
+you; nothing! we have not more than a mouthful for ourselves. Take
+yourselves away, and leave us in peace."
+
+Rita came forward, the tears running down her cheeks. "Oh, poor things!"
+she cried. "Poor souls, I want nothing. I am not hungry! See!--I have
+brought food for you. Quick, Manuela, the bag--the biscuits, child! Give
+them to me! Here, thou little one, take this, and eat; there is plenty
+more!"
+
+The famished child looked from the biscuit to the glowing face that bent
+over it. It made a feeble movement; then drew back in fear. The old
+woman still clamoured to the girls to go away; but the younger snatched
+the biscuit, and began feeding the child hastily, yet carefully.
+"Mother, be still!" she said, imperiously. "Hush that noise! do you not
+see this is no poor wretch like ourselves? This is a noble lady come
+from heaven to bring us help. Thanks, senorita!" With a quick, graceful
+movement, she lifted the hem of Rita's dress and pressed it to her lips.
+"We were dying!" she said, simply. "It was the last morsel; we meant to
+give it to the little one, and some one might find it when we were dead,
+and keep the life in it."
+
+"But, eat; eat!" cried Rita, filling the hands of both women with
+chocolate and biscuits. "It is dreadful, terrible! oh, I have heard of
+it, I have read of it, but I had not seen, I had not known. Oh, if my
+cousin Margaret were here, she would know what to do! Eat, my poor
+starving ones. You shall never be hungry again if I can help it."
+
+The child pulled its mother's ragged gown.
+
+"Is it an angel?" it asked, its mouth full of chocolate.
+
+"Hear the innocent!" said the mother. "No, lamb, not yet an angel, only
+a noble lady on the road to heaven. See, senorita! he was pretty, while
+his cheeks were round and full. Still, his eyes are pretty, are they
+not?"
+
+"They are lovely! he is a darling!" cried Rita; and she took the child
+in her arms, and bent over him to hide the tears. Was this truly Rita
+Montfort? Yes, the same Rita, only awake now, for the first time now in
+her pretty idle life. She felt of the little limbs. They were mere skin
+and bone; no sign of baby chubbiness, no curve or dimple. Indeed, she
+had come but just in time. "Listen!" she said, presently. "Where do you
+come from? where is your home?"
+
+The old woman made a gesture as wide and vague as Rita's own of a few
+minutes before. "Our home, noble lady? the wilderness is our home
+to-day. Our little farm, our cottage, our patch of cane, all gone, all
+destroyed. Only the graves of our dead left."
+
+"We come from Velaya," said the young woman. "It is miles from here; we
+were driven out by the Spaniards. My father was killed before our eyes;
+she is not herself since, poor soul; do we wonder at it? we have
+wandered ever since. My husband--do I know if he is alive or dead? He
+was with our men, he knows nothing of what has happened. If he returns,
+he will think us all dead. Poor Pedro! These are the conditions of war,
+senorita."
+
+She spoke very quietly; but her simple words pierced deeper than the
+plaints of the poor old woman.
+
+"Listen, again!" said Rita. "I am going to my brother; he also is with
+our army; he is with the General. Do you know, can you tell me, in what
+direction to look for them? When I find them, I will see; I will have
+provision made for you. You must stay here now, for a few hours; but
+have courage, help will come soon. My brother Carlos and the good
+General will care for you. Only tell me where to find them, and all will
+be well."
+
+She spoke so confidently that hope and courage seemed to go from her,
+and creep into the hearts of the forlorn creatures. The baby smiled, and
+stretched out its little fleshless hands for more of the precious food;
+even the old grandmother crept a little nearer, to kiss the hand of
+their benefactress, and call on all the saints to bless her and bring
+her to Paradise. The younger woman said there had been firing yesterday
+in that direction, and she pointed westward over the brow of a hill.
+They had seen no Cuban soldiers since they had been here, but a boy had
+passed by this morning, on his way to join the General, and he took the
+same westerly direction, and said the nearest pickets were not far
+distant.
+
+"And why did you not follow him?" asked Rita. "Why did you not go with
+him, and throw yourself at the feet of our good General, as I will do
+for you now? Yes, yes, I know; you were too weak, poor souls; you had no
+strength to travel farther. But I am young and strong, and so is
+Manuela; and we will go together, and soon we will come again, or send
+help for you. Manuela, will you come with me? or will it be better for
+you to stay and care for these poor ones while I seek Don Carlos?"
+
+But Manuela was, very properly, scandalised at the thought of her young
+lady's going off alone on any such quest. It appeared, she said, as if
+the senorita had left her excellent intelligence behind in Havana. These
+people would do very well now; they had food; they had, indeed, all
+there was, practically, and the senorita might herself starve, if they
+did not find Don Carlos soon. That was enough, surely; let them remain
+as they were.
+
+"You are right, Manuela!" said Rita, nodding sagely. "We must go
+together. Your heart does not appear to be stirred as mine is; but never
+mind--the hungry are fed, and that is the thing of importance. Farewell,
+then, friends! How do they call you, that I may know how to tell those
+whom I shall send?"
+
+The younger woman was named Dolores, she said. Her husband was Pedro
+Valdez, and this old one was his mother. If the senorita should see
+Pedro--if by Heaven's mercy he should be with the General at this
+moment, all would indeed be well. In any case, their prayers and
+blessings would go with the senorita and her valued attendant.
+
+Often and often, the soft Spanish speech of compliment and ceremony
+sounded hollow and artificial in Rita's ears, even though she had been
+used to it all her life; but there was no doubting the sincerity of
+these earnest and heartfelt thanks. Her own heart felt very warm, as she
+turned, with a final wave of the hands, to take a last look at the
+little group by the earth-hovel.
+
+"We have made a good beginning, Manuela," she said. "We have saved three
+lives, I truly believe. Now we shall go on with new courage. I feel,
+Manuela, that I can do anything--meet any foe. Ah! what is that? a
+snake! a horrible green snake! I faint, Manuela! I die--no, I don't.
+See, I am the sister of a soldier, and I am not going to die any more,
+when I see these fearful creatures. Manuela, do you observe?
+I--am--firm; marble, Manuela, is soft in comparison with me. Ah, he is
+gone away. This is a world of peril, my poor child. Let us hasten on;
+Carlos waits for us, though he does not know it."
+
+Talking thus, with much more of the same kind, Rita pushed on, and
+Manuela followed as best she might. Rita had left the parrot's cage
+under charge of Dolores, and carried the bird on her shoulder, with only
+a cord fastened to his leg. Chico was well used to this, and made no
+effort to fly away; indeed, he had reached an age when it was more
+comfortable to sit on a soft shoulder and be fed and petted, than to
+flutter among strange trees and find his living for himself; so he sat
+still, crooning to himself from time to time, and cocking his bright
+yellow eye at his mistress, to see what she thought of it all.
+
+It was hard work, pushing through the jungle. The girls' hands were
+scratched and torn with brambles; Rita's delicate shoes were in a sad
+condition; her dress began to show more than one jagged rent. Still she
+made her way forward, with undaunted zeal, cheering the weary Manuela
+with jest and story. Indeed, the girl seemed thoroughly transformed, and
+her Northern cousins, who had known and loved her even in her wilful
+indolence, would hardly have recognised their Rita in this valiant
+maiden, who made nothing of heat, dust, or even scorpions, and pressed
+on and on in her quest of her brother.
+
+After an hour of weary walking, the girls came to a road, or something
+that passed for a road. There was no sign of life on it, but there was
+something that made them start, then stop and look at each other. Beside
+the rough path, in a tangle of vines and thorny cactus, stood the ruin
+of a tiny chapel. A group of noble palms towered above it; from the
+stony bank behind it bubbled a little fountain. The door of the chapel
+was gone; it was long since there had been glass in the windows, and the
+empty spaces showed only emptiness within; yet the bell still hung in
+the mouldering belfry; the bell-rope trailed above the sunken porch, its
+whole length twined with flowering creepers. It was a strange sight.
+
+"Manuela!" cried Rita; "do you see?"
+
+"I see the holy chapel," said Manuela, who was a good Catholic. "Some
+saintly man lived here in old times. Pity, that the altar is gone. It
+must have been a pretty chapel, senorita."
+
+"The bell!" cried Rita. "Do you see the bell, Manuela? what if we rang
+it, to let Carlos know that we are near? It is a good idea, a superb
+idea!"
+
+"Senorita, I implore you not to touch it! For heaven's sake, senorita!
+Alas, what have you done?"
+
+Manuela clasped her hands, and fairly wailed in terror, for Rita had
+grasped the bell-rope, and was pulling it with right good will. Ding!
+ding! the notes rang out loud and clear. The rock behind caught up the
+echo, and sent it flying across to the hill beyond. Ding! ding! The
+parrot screamed, and Rita herself, after sounding two or three peals,
+dropped the rope, and stood with parted lips and anxious eyes, waiting
+to see what would come of it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS.
+
+
+A sound of voices! eager voices of men, calling to one another. The
+tread of hasty feet, the noise of breaking bushes, of men sliding,
+jumping, running, hurrying, coming every instant nearer and nearer. What
+had Rita done, indeed? Manuela crouched on the mouldering floor at her
+mistress's feet, too terrified even to cry out now; Rita Montfort drew
+her dagger, and waited.
+
+Next instant the narrow doorway was thronged with men; swarthy
+black-browed men, ragged, hatless, shoeless, but all armed, all with
+rifle cocked, all pressing forward with eager, wondering looks.
+
+"Who rang the bell? what has happened?"
+
+A babel of voices arose; Rita could not have made herself heard if she
+would; and, indeed, for the moment no words came to her lips. But there
+was one to speak for her. Chiquito, the old gray parrot, raised his head
+from her shoulder, where he had been quietly dozing, and flapped his
+wings, and cried aloud:
+
+"_Viva Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva Gomez! a muerto Espana!_" There was
+a moment's silence; then the voices broke out again in wild cries and
+cheers.
+
+"Ah, the Cuban bird! the parrot of freedom! Welcome, senorita! You bring
+us good luck! Welcome to the Cuban ladies and their glorious bird! _Viva
+Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva el papageno!_ long life to the illustrious
+lady!"
+
+Rita, herself again, stepped from the chapel, erect and joyous, holding
+the parrot aloft.
+
+"I thank you, brothers!" she said. "I come to seek freedom among you; I
+am a daughter of Cuba. Does any among you know Don Carlos Montfort?"
+
+The babel rose again. Know Don Carlos? but surely! was he not their
+captain? Even now he was at the General's quarters, consulting him about
+the movements of the next day. What joy! what honour for the poor sons
+of Cuba to form the escort of the peerless sister of Don Carlos to
+headquarters! But the distance was nothing. They would carry the
+senorita and her attendant; they would make a throne, and transport them
+as lightly as if swans drew them. Ah, the fortunate day! the lucky omen
+of the blessed parrot!
+
+They babbled like children, crowding round Chiquito, extolling his
+beauty, his wisdom, the miracle of his timely utterance. Chiquito seemed
+to think, for his part, that he had done enough. He paid no attention to
+the blandishments of his ragged admirers, but turned himself upside
+down, always a sign of contempt with him, said "Caramba!" and would say
+nothing more.
+
+A little procession was formed, the least ragged of the patriots leading
+the way, Rita and Manuela following. The others crowded together behind,
+exclaiming, wondering, pleased as children with this wonderful
+happening. Thus they crossed a ragged hill, threaded a grove of palms,
+and finally came upon an open space, roughly cleared, in the middle of
+which stood a tent, with several rude huts around it. The soldiers
+explained with eager gestures. Behold the tent of the illustrious
+General. Behold the dwelling of Don Rodrigo, of Don Uberto, of Don
+Carlos; behold, finally, Don Carlos himself, emerging from the General's
+tent. The gallant ragamuffins drew back, and became on the instant
+spectators at a play. A slender young man came out of the tent,
+evidently to inquire the meaning of the commotion. At what he saw he
+turned apparently to stone, and stood, cigarette in hand, staring at the
+vision before him. But for Rita there was no hesitation now. Running to
+her brother, she threw her arms around his neck with unaffected joy.
+
+"Carlos!" she cried. "I have come to you. I had no one else to go to.
+They were taking me to the convent, and I would have died sooner. I have
+come to you, to live or die with you, for our country."
+
+Manuela wept; the soldiers were moved to tears, and brushed their ragged
+sleeves across their eyes. But Carlos Montfort did not weep.
+
+"Rita!" he said, in English, returning his sister's caress
+affectionately, but with little demonstration of joy. "What is the
+meaning of this? what induced you--how could you do such a thing as
+this? where do you come from? how did you find your way?" And he added
+to himself, "And what the mischief am I to do with you now you are
+here?"
+
+Rita explained hastily; gave a dramatic sketch of her adventures, not
+forgetting the unfortunate peasants, who must, she said, be rescued that
+instant from their wretched plight; and wound up with a vivid
+description of the bell-ringing, the gathering of the patriot forces,
+and the magnificent behaviour of her beloved Chiquito.
+
+"Good gracious! you have brought the parrot, too!" cried poor Carlos.
+"Rita! Rita! this is too much."
+
+At this moment a new person appeared on the scene. A tall old man,
+stooping his head, came out from the tent, and greeted the wandering
+damsel with grave courtesy.
+
+Perhaps the General had seen too much of life and of war to be surprised
+at anything; perhaps he was sorry for the embarrassment of his young
+lieutenant, and wished to make things easier for him; however it was, he
+apparently found it the most natural thing in the world for a young
+lady and her maid to be wandering in the wilderness in search of the
+Cuban army. The first thing, he said, was to make the senorita
+comfortable, as comfortable as their limited powers would allow. She
+would take his tent, of course; it was her own from that instant; but
+equally of course neither Rita nor Carlos would hear of this. A friendly
+dispute ensued; and it was finally decided that Rita and Manuela were to
+make themselves as comfortable as might be in Carlos's own tent, while
+he shared that of his commander. The General yielded only under protest
+to this arrangement; yet he did yield, seeing that resistance would
+distress both brother and sister. Since the senorita would not take his
+tent, he said, the next best thing was that she should accept his
+hospitality, such as he could offer her, within it; or rather, before
+it, since the evening was warm. His men were even now preparing the
+evening meal; when the senorita was refreshed and rested, he hoped she
+and Don Carlos would share it with him.
+
+Rita withdrew into the little hut, in a glow of patriotism and
+enthusiasm. "Manuela," she cried, "did you ever see such nobleness, such
+lofty yet gracious courtesy? Ah! I knew he was a man to die for. How
+happy we are, to be here at last, after dreaming of it so long! I
+thrill; I burn with sacred fire--what is the matter, Manuela? you look
+the spirit of gloom. What has happened?"
+
+Manuela was crouching on the bare earthen floor, her shoulders shrugged
+up to her ears, her dark eyes glancing around the tiny room with every
+expression of marked disapproval. It was certainly not a luxurious
+apartment. The low walls were of rough logs, the roof was a ragged piece
+of very dingy canvas, held in place by stones here and there. In one
+corner was a pile of dried grass and leaves, with a blanket thrown over
+it,--evidently Don Carlos's bed. There was a camp-stool, a rude box set
+on end, that seemed to do duty both for dressing and writing table,
+since it was littered with papers, shaving materials, cigarette-cases,
+and a variety of other articles.
+
+Manuela spread out her arms with a despairing gesture. Was this, she
+asked, the place where the senorita was going to live? Where was she to
+hang the dresses? where was she to lay out the dressing things? As to
+making up the bed,--it would be better to die at once, in Manuela's
+opinion, than to live--Here Manuela stopped suddenly, for she had seen
+something. Rita, whose back was turned to the doorway of the hut, was
+rating her severely. Was this Manuela's patriotism, she wished to know?
+had she not said, over and over again, that she was prepared to shed the
+last drop of blood for their country, as she herself, Rita, was longing
+to do? and now, when it was simply a question of a little discomfort,
+of a few privations shared with their brave defenders, here was Manuela
+complaining and fretting, like a peevish child. Well! and what was the
+matter now?
+
+Manuela had risen from her despairing position, and was now bustling
+about the hut, brushing, smoothing, tidying up, with an air of smiling
+alacrity. But indeed, yes! she said; the senorita put her to shame. If
+the senorita could endure these trials, it was not for her poor Manuela
+to complain. No, indeed, sooner would she die. And after all, the hut
+was small, but that made things more handy, perhaps. The beautiful table
+that this would become, if she might remove the Senor Don Carlos's
+cigar-ashes? There! a scarf thrown over it--ah! What fortune, that she
+had brought the crimson satin scarf! Behold, an exhibition of beauty! As
+for the bed, she had heard from--from those who were soldiers
+themselves, that no couch was so soft, so wooing to sleep, as one of
+forest boughs. It stood to reason; there was poetry in the thought, as
+the senorita justly remarked. Now, with a few nails or pegs to hang
+things on, their little apartment would be complete. Let the senorita of
+her goodness forget the foolishness of her poor Manuela; she should hear
+no more of it; that was a promise.
+
+Rita looked in amazement at her follower; the girl's eyes were
+sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and she could not keep back the smiles
+that came dimpling and rippling over her pretty face.
+
+"But what has happened to you, Manuela?" cried Rita. "I insist upon
+knowing. What have you seen?"
+
+What had Manuela seen, to produce such a sudden and amazing change?
+Nothing, surely; or next to nothing. A ragged soldier had strolled past
+the door of the hut; a black-browed fellow, with a red handkerchief tied
+over his head, and a black cigar nearly a foot long; but what should
+that matter to Manuela?
+
+Rita looked at her curiously, but could get no explanation, save that
+Manuela had come to her senses, owing to the noble and glorious example
+set her by her beloved senorita.
+
+"Well!" said Rita, turning away half-petulantly. "Of course I know you
+are as changeable as a weathercock, Manuela. But as you were saying, if
+we had a few nails, we should do well enough here. I will go ask the
+Senor Don Carlos--"
+
+"Pardon, dearest senorita!" cried Manuela, hastily. "But what a pity
+that would be, to disturb the senor during his arduous labours. Without
+doubt the illustrious Senor Don Generalissimo (Manuela loved a title,
+and always made the most of one) requires him every instant, in the
+affairs of the nation. I--I can find some one who will get nails for us,
+and drive them also."
+
+"You can find some one?" repeated Rita. "And whom, then, can you find,
+pray?"
+
+"Only Pepe!" said Manuela, in a small voice.
+
+Was the name a conjuring-spell? It had hardly been spoken when Pepe
+himself stood in the doorway, ducking respectfully at the senorita, but
+looking out of the corners of his black eyes at Manuela. Rita smiled in
+spite of herself. Was this ragamuffin, barefoot, tattered, his hair in
+elf-locks,--was this the once elegant Pepe, the admired of himself and
+all the waiting-maids of Havana? He had once been Carlos's servant, when
+the young Cuban had time and taste for such idle luxuries; now he was
+his fellow soldier and faithful follower.
+
+"Well, Pepe," said Rita; "you also are here to welcome us, it appears.
+That is well. If you could find us a few nails, my good Pepe? the Senor
+Don Carlos is occupied with the General at present, and you can help
+us, if you will."
+
+Where had Rita learned this new and gracious courtesy? A few months ago,
+she would have said, "Pepe! drive nails!" and thought no more about it.
+Indeed, she could have given no explanation, save that "things were
+different." Perhaps our Rita is growing up, inside as well as outside?
+Certainly the pretty airs and graces have given way to a womanly and
+thoughtful look not at all unbecoming to any face, however beautiful.
+
+The thoughtful look deepened into anxiety, as a sudden recollection
+flashed into her mind. "Oh!" she cried. "And here I sit in peace, and
+have done nothing about those poor creatures in the hut! I must go to
+the General! But stay! Pepe, do you know--is there a man in the camp
+called Pedro Valdez?"
+
+But, yes! Pepe said. Assuredly there was such a man. Did the senorita
+require him?
+
+"Oh, please bring him!" said Rita. "Tell him that I have something of
+importance to tell him. Quick, my good Pepe!"
+
+Pepe vanished, and soon returned, dragging by the collar a lean
+scarecrow even more dilapidated than himself. Apparently the poor fellow
+had been asleep, and had been roughly clutched and hauled across the
+camp, for his hair was full of leaves and grass, and he was rubbing his
+eyes and swearing softly under his breath, vowing vengeance on his
+captor.
+
+"Silence, animal!" said Pepe, admonishing him by a kick of the presence
+of ladies; "Behold the illustrious senorita, who does you the honour to
+look at you. Attention, Swine of the Antilles!"
+
+Thus adjured, poor Pedro straightened himself, made the best bow he
+could, and stood sheepishly before Rita, trying furtively to brush a few
+of the sticks and straws off his ragged clothing.
+
+"You are Pedro Valdez?" asked Rita.
+
+At the service of the illustrious senorita. Yes, he was Pedro Valdez; in
+no condition to appear in such company, but nevertheless her slave and
+her beast of burden.
+
+"Oh, listen!" cried Rita, her eyes softening with compassion and
+anxiety. "You have a wife, Pedro Valdez,--a wife and a dear little
+child, is it not so? and your mother--she is old and weak. When have you
+seen them all, Valdez? Where did you leave them?"
+
+The man looked bewildered. "Leave them, senorita? I left them at home,
+in our village. They were well, all was well, when I came away. Has
+anything befallen them?"
+
+"They are safe! All is well with them now, or will be well, when you go
+to them. They are near here, Valdez. The Spaniards broke up the village,
+do you see? Dolores and your mother fled with the little one. The
+village was burned, and many souls perished; but Dolores was so strong,
+so brave, that she got the old mother away alive and safe, and the child
+as well. They have suffered terribly, my poor man; you must look to find
+them pale and thin, but they are alive, and all will be well when once
+they have found you."
+
+Seeing Valdez overcome for the moment, Rita hastened to the General's
+tent and told her story, begging that the husband and father might be
+allowed to go at once to the relief of his suffering family.
+
+"And he shall bring them here, shall he not?" she cried, eagerly. "They
+cannot be separated again, can they, dear Senor General? you will make
+room for Dolores--that is the wife; oh, such a brave woman! and the old
+mother, and the dear little child!"
+
+The General looked puzzled; a look half quizzical, half sad, stole over
+his fine face; while he hesitated, Carlos broke out hastily: "Rita! you
+are too unreasonable! Do you think we are in a city here? do you think
+the General has everything at his command, to maintain an establishment
+of women and children? It is not to be thought of. We have no room, no
+supplies, no conveniences of any kind; they must go elsewhere."
+
+"They can have my house!" cried Rita, "Your house, brother Carlos, which
+you have given to me. I will sleep in a hammock, under a tree. What
+matter? I will live on bread and water; I will--"
+
+"My dear young lady!" said the General, interrupting her eager speech
+with a lifted hand. "My dear child, if an old man may call you so, if
+only we had bread for all, there would be no further question. We would
+gladly take these poor people, and hundreds of other suffering ones who
+fill the hills and valleys of our unhappy country. But--Carlos is right,
+alas! that I must say it. Here in the mountain camp, it is impossible
+for us to harbour refugees, unless for a night or so, while other
+provision is making. Let Valdez bring his family here for the night--we
+can make shift to feed and shelter them so long. After that--"
+
+He shook his head sadly. Rita clasped her hands in distress. To be
+brought face to face with the impossible was a new experience to the
+spoiled child. There was a moment's silence. Then:
+
+"Senor General," she cried, "I know! I see! all may yet be managed. They
+shall go to our house."
+
+"To--"
+
+"To our house, Carlos's and mine, in Havana. There are servants, troops
+of them; there is food, drink, everything, in abundance, in wicked,
+shameful abundance. Julio shall take care of them; Julio shall treat
+them as his mother and his sister. I will write commands to him; this
+instant I will write."
+
+Snatching a sheet of paper from the table, she wrote furiously for a
+moment, then handed the paper to the General with a look of
+satisfaction. The General--oh, how slow he was!--adjusted his glasses,
+and read the paper carefully; looked at Rita; looked at Carlos, and read
+the paper again. Rita clenched her little hands, but was calm as marble,
+as she assured herself. "Have I the senorita's permission to read this
+aloud?" asked the old man at last. "It may be that Don Carlos's
+advice--a thousand thanks, senorita." He read:
+
+        "JULIO:--The bearer of this is the wife of
+        Pedro Valdez. You are to take her and her
+        family in, and give them the best the house
+        contains; the best, do you hear? put them in
+        the marble guest-chamber, and place the house
+        at their disposal. Send for Doctor Blanco to
+        attend them; let Teresa wait upon them, and let
+        her furnish them with clothes from my wardrobe.
+        If you do not do all this, Julio, I will have
+        you killed; so fail not as you value your life.
+
+                         "MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+        "P.S. The Senor Don Carlos is here with me, and
+        echoes what I say. We are with the brave
+        General Sevillo, and if you dare to disobey,
+        terrible revenge will be taken."
+
+"The ardent patriotism of the senorita," said the General, cautiously,
+"is beautiful and inspiring; nevertheless, is it not possible that a
+more conciliatory tone might--I would not presume to dictate, but--"
+
+"Oh, Rita!" cried Carlos. "Child, when will you learn that we are no
+longer acting plays at home? This is absurd!"
+
+With an impatient movement that might have been Rita's own, he snatched
+the paper and tore it in two. "The General cannot be troubled with such
+folly!" he said, shortly. "Go to your room, my sister, and repose
+yourself after your fatigues."
+
+"By no means!" cried the kindly General, seeing Rita's eyes fill with
+tears of anger and mortification. "The senorita has promised to make my
+tea for me this evening. Give orders, I pray you, Don Carlos, that
+Valdez bring his family to us for the night; the rest can well wait for
+to-morrow's light. The senorita is exhausted, I fear, with her manifold
+fatigues, and she must have no more anxieties to-day. Behold the tea at
+this moment! Senorita Rita, this will be the pleasantest meal I have had
+since I left my home, two years ago."
+
+No anger could stand against the General's smile. In a moment Rita was
+smiling herself, though the tears still stood in her dark eyes, and one
+great drop even rolled down her cheek, to the General's great distress.
+Carlos, seeing with contrition his sister's effort at self-control, bent
+to kiss her cheek and murmur a few affectionate words. Soon they were
+all seated around the little table, Rita and the General on
+camp-stools, Carlos on a box. The tea was smoking hot; what did it
+matter that the nose of the teapot was broken? Rita had never tasted
+anything so delicious as that cup of hot tea, without milk, and with a
+morsel of sugar-cane for sweetening. The camp fare, biscuits soaked in
+water and fried in bacon fat, was better, she declared, than any food
+she had ever tasted in her life. To her delight, a small box of
+chocolate still remained in her long-suffering bag; this she presented
+to the General with her prettiest courtesy, and he vowed he was not
+worthy to taste such delicacies from such a hand. So, with interchange
+of compliments, and with a real friendliness that was far better, the
+little feast went on gaily; and when, late in the evening, Rita withdrew
+to her tent, she told Manuela that she had never enjoyed anything so
+much in her life; never!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+TO MARGARET.
+
+
+                               CAMP OF THE SONS OF CUBA,
+                                 May the --, Midnight.
+
+MY MARGUERITE:--What will you say when your eyes, those calm gray eyes,
+rest upon the above heading? Will they open wider, I ask myself? Will
+the breath come quicker between those cool rose-leaves of your lips? "It
+is true!" you will murmur to yourself. "She has done as she said, as she
+swore she would. My Rita, my wild pomegranate flower, has kept her vow;
+she is in the mountains with Carlos; she has taken her place beside the
+defenders of her country."
+
+Ah! you thought it was play, Marguerite, confess it! You thought the
+wild Cuban girl was uttering empty breath of nothingness; you have had
+no real anxiety, you never dreamed that I should really find
+myself--where now I am. Where is it? Listen, Marguerite! My house--once
+Carlos's house, now mine by his brotherly gift--stands in a little glen
+of the hills. An open space, once dry grass, now bare earth, baked by
+the sun, trodden by many feet; a cluster of palms, a mountain spring
+gushing from a rock hard by; on every side hills, the brown, rugged
+hills of Cuba, fairer to me than cloudy Alps of Italy, or those other
+great mountains of which never can I remember the barbarous names. To
+teach me geography, Marguerite, you never could succeed, you will
+remember; more than our poor Peggy history. Poor little Peggy! I could
+wish she were here with me; it would be the greatest pleasure of her
+life. For you, Marguerite, the scene is too wild, too stern; but Peggy
+has a martial spirit under her somewhat clumsy exterior. But I wander,
+and Peggy is without doubt sleeping at this moment under the stern eye
+of her schoolmistress. I began to tell you about my house, Marguerite.
+So small a house you saw never. Standing, I reach up my hand and touch
+the roof, of brown canvas, less fresh than once it was. Sitting, I
+stretch out my arms--here is one wall; there--almost, but a few feet
+between--is the other. In a corner my bed--ah, Marguerite! on your white
+couch there, with snowy draperies falling softly about you, consider my
+bed! a pile of dried grasses and leaves, shaken and tossed anew every
+morning, covered with a camp blanket. I tell you, the gods might sleep
+on it, and ask no better. In another corner sleeps Manuela, my faithful
+maid, my humble friend, the companion of my wanderings. Some day you
+shall see Manuela; she is an excellent creature. Cultivated, no;
+intellinctual--what is that for a word, Marguerite? Ah! when will you
+learn Spanish, that I may pour my soul with freedom?--no; but a heart
+of gold, a spirit of fire and crystal. She keeps my hut neat, she
+arranges my toilet,--singular toilets, my dear, yet not wholly
+unbecoming, I almost fancy,--she helps me in a thousand ways. She has a
+little love-affair, that is a keen interest to me; Pepe, formerly the
+servant of Carlos, adores her, and she casts tender eyes upon the young
+soldier. For me, as you know, Marguerite, these things are for ever
+past, buried in the grave of my hero, in the stately tomb that hides the
+ashes of the Santillos. I take a sorrowful pleasure in watching the
+budding happiness of these young creatures. More of this another time.
+
+I sit, Marguerite, in the doorway of my little house. It is the middle
+hour of the night, when tomb-yards gape, as your Shakespeare says. Am I
+sleepy? No! The camp slumbers, but I--I am awake, and I watch. I had a
+very long siesta, too. The moon is full, and the little glade is bathed
+in silver light. Here in Cuba, Marguerite, the moon is other than with
+you in the north. You call her pale moon, gentle moon, I know not what.
+Here she shines fiercely, with passion, with palpitations of fiery
+silver. The palms, the aloes, the tangled woods about the camp, are
+black as night; all else is a flood of airy silver. I float, I swim in
+this flood, entranced, enraptured. I ask myself, have I lived till now?
+is not this the first real thrill of life I have ever experienced? I
+alone wake, as I said; the others slumber profoundly. The General in his
+tent; ah, that you could know him, Marguerite! that you and my uncle
+could embrace this noble, this godlike figure! He is no longer young,
+the snows of seventy winters have blanched his clustering locks; it is
+the only sign of age. For the rest, erect, vigorous, a knight, a
+paladin, a--in effect, a son of Cuba. The younger officers regard him as
+a divinity; they live or die at his command. They are three, these
+officers; Carlos is one; the others, Don Alonzo Ximenes, Don Uberto
+Cortez. Don Alonzo is not interesting; he is fat, and rather stupid, but
+most good-natured. Don Uberto is Carlos's friend, a noble young captain,
+much admired formerly in Havana. I have danced with him, my cousin, in
+halls of rose-wreathed marble; we meet here in the wilderness, I with my
+shattered affections, he with his country's name written on his soul. It
+is affecting; it is heart-stirring, Marguerite; yet think nothing of it;
+romance is dead for Margarita Montfort. Carlos is my kind brother, as
+ever. He was vexed at first at my coming here. Heavens! what was I to
+do? My stepmother was dragging me to a convent; my days would have been
+spent there, and in a short time my life would have gone out like a
+flame. "Out, short candle!" You see I remember your Shakespeare
+readings, my dearest. Can I forget anything that recalls you to me, half
+of my heart? If there had been time, indeed, I might have written to my
+uncle; I might even have come to you; but the hour descended like a
+thunderbolt; I fled, Manuela with me. The manner of my flight? you will
+ask. Marguerite, it was managed--I do not boast, I am the soul of
+humility, you know it!--the manner of it was perfect. Listen, and you
+shall hear all. You remember that in my last letter--written, alas! in
+my beloved garden, which I may never see more--I spoke with a certain
+restraint, even an approach to mystery. It was thus. At first, when that
+woman proposed to take me to the convent, I was a creature distracted.
+The fire of madness burned in my veins, and I could think of nothing
+save death or revenge. But with time came reflection; came wisdom,
+Marguerite, and inflexible resolve. To those she loves, Margarita
+Montfort is wax, silk, down, anything the most soft and yielding that
+can be figured. To her enemies, steel and adamant are her composition.
+I had two friends in that house of Spaniards; one was Pasquale, good,
+faithful Pasquale, an under gardener and helper; the other, Manuela, my
+maid. I have described her to you--enough! I realised that action must
+be of swiftness, the lightning flash, the volcano fire that I predicted.
+Do not say that I did not warn you, Marguerite; knowing me, you must
+have expected from my last letter what must come. I called Manuela to my
+room, I made pretence that she should arrange my hair. My hair has grown
+three inches, Marguerite, since I left you; it now veritably touches the
+floor as I sit. Our holy religion tells us that it is a woman's crown,
+yet how heavy a one at times! I closed the door, I locked it; I caused
+to draw down the heavy Persians. Then, tiger-like, I sprang upon my
+attendant, and laid my hand on her mouth. "Hush!" I tell her. "Not a
+word, not a sound! dare but breathe, and you may be my death. My life,
+I tell you, hangs by a thread. Hush! be silent, and tell me all. Tell me
+who assists Geronimo in the stables since Pablo is ill." Manuela
+struggles, she releases herself to reply--
+
+"Pasquale!"
+
+It is the answer from heaven. Pasquale, I have said, is my one friend
+beside Manuela. I say to her, "Do thus, and thus! give these orders to
+Pasquale; tell him that it imports of your life and mine, saying nothing
+of his own; that if I am not obeyed, the evil eye will be the least of
+his punishments, and death without the sacraments the end for him."
+
+Manuela hears; she trembles; she flies to execute my commands. Then,
+Marguerite--then, what does the daughter of Cuba do? She goes to the
+wall, to the trophy I have described to you so often. She selects her
+weapons. Ah, if you could see them! First, a long slender dagger, the
+steel exquisitely inlaid with gold, in a sheath of green enamel; a
+dagger for a prince, Marguerite, for your Lancelot or Tristram!
+Another, short and keen, the blade plain but deadly, cased in wrought
+leather of Cordova. Last, my machete, my pearl of destructiveness. It
+was his, my Santayana's; he procured it from Toledo, from the master
+sword-maker of the universe. The blade is so fine, the eye refuses to
+tell where it melts into the air; a touch, and the hardest substance is
+divided exactly in two pieces. The handle, gold, set with an ancestral
+emerald, which for centuries has brought victory in the field to the arm
+of the hero who wore it; the sheath--I forget myself; this weapon has no
+sheath. When a Santillo de Santayana rides into battle, he has no
+thought to sheathe his sword. These, Marguerite, are my armament; these,
+and a tiny gold-mounted revolver, a gem, a toy, but a toy of deadly
+purpose. Enough! I lay them apart, ready for the night. I go to my
+stepmother, I smile, I make submission. I will do all she wishes; I am
+a child; her age impresses me with the truth that I should not set my
+will against hers. Concepcion is thirty on her next birthday; she tells
+the world that she is twenty, but I know! it grinds her bones when I
+remind her of her years, as they were revealed to me by a member of her
+family. So! She is pleased, we embrace, the volantes are commanded, all
+goes smoothly. I demand permission to take my parrot to the convent; it
+is, to my surprise, accorded; I know she thought those savage sisters
+would kill him the first time he uttered his noble and inspiring words.
+
+The night comes, the hour of the departure. To accompany us goes my good
+Don Miguel, the dear old man of whom I have told you, whom I revere as
+my grandfather. My heart yearns to tell him all, to cast myself on his
+venerable bosom and cry, "Come with me; take me yourself to my brother;
+share with us the perils and glories of the tented field!" But no! he
+is old, this dear friend; his hair is the snow, his step is feeble.
+Hardships such as Rita must now endure would end his feeble life. I
+speak no word; a marble smile is all I wear, though my heart is rent
+with anguish. The carriages are at the door. Concepcion would have me
+ride in the first, that she may have her eyes on me at each instant. She
+suspects nothing, no; it is merely the base and suspicious nature which
+reveals itself at every occasion. I refuse, I prodigate expressions of
+my humility, of my determination to take the second place, leaving the
+first to her; briefly, I take the second volante, Manuela springing to
+my side. After some discontent, appeased by dear Don Miguel, who is
+veritably an angel, and wants but death to transport him among the
+saints, Concepcion mounts in the first volante. I have seen that
+Pasquale is on the box of mine; I possess my soul, I lean back and count
+the beats of my fevered pulse, as we ascend the steep road, winding
+among hills and forests. The convent is at the top of a long, long hill,
+very steep and rugged; the horses pant and strain; humanity demands that
+they slacken their pace, that the carriages are slowly, slowly, drawn up
+the rugged track. The night descends, I have told you, swiftly in our
+southern climate; already it is dark. On either side of the road are
+tall shrouded forms, which Manuela takes for sentinels, for Spanish
+soldiers drawn up to watch, perhaps to arrest us. I laugh; I see they
+are the aloes only, planted here in rows along the road. Presently, at a
+turn of the road, a light! a fire burning by the roadside, and soldiers
+running, real ones this time, to the horses' heads. "_Alerta! quien
+va?_" It is the Spanish challenge, Marguerite; it is a piquette of the
+Gringos, of the hated Spaniards. They peer into the carriages, faces of
+savages, of brutes, devils; I feel their glances like poisoned arrows.
+They demand, Don Miguel makes answer, shows his papers. Of the instant
+these slaves are cringing, are bowing to the earth. "Pass, most
+honourable and illustrious Senor Don Miguel Pietoso, with the heavenly
+ladies under your charge!" It is over. The volantes roll on. I clasp
+Manuela in my arms and whisper, "We are free!" We mingle our tears of
+rapture, but for a moment only. We approach the steepest pitch of the
+long hill (it is veritably a mountain), a place beyond conception rugged
+and difficult. The horses strain and tug; they are at point of
+exhaustion. I look at Pasquale; Pasquale has served me since my cradle.
+Does his head move, a very little, the least imaginable motion? It is
+too dark to see; the moon is not yet risen. But I feel the horses
+checked, I feel the carriage pause, an instant, a breath only. I step
+noiselessly to the ground; the volante is low, permitting this without
+danger. Manuela follows. There is not a sound, not a creak, not the
+rustle of a fold. Again it is over. The volante rolls on. Manuela and I
+are alone, are free in the mountains of Cuba Libre.
+
+I have but one thought: my country, my brother! Behold me here, in the
+society of one, prepared to shed my blood for the other. You would never
+guess who else is with us; Chiquito, our poor old friend the parrot, the
+sacred legacy of that white saint, our departed aunt. Could I leave him
+behind, to unfriendly, perhaps murderous, hands? Old Julio is a Spaniard
+at heart; Chiquito is a Cuban bird; his very soul--do you doubt that a
+bird has a soul, when I tell you that I have seen it in his eyes,
+Marguerite?--his very soul speaks for his country. If you could hear him
+cry, "_Viva Cuba Libre!_" The camp is on fire when they hear him. Ah,
+they are such brave fellows, our soldiers! poor, in rags, half-fed--it
+matters not! each one is a hero, and all are my brothers. Marguerite,
+sleep hangs at last upon me. Good-night, beloved; good-night, cool white
+soul of ivory and silver. I love thee always devotedly. Have no fear for
+me. It is true that the Spaniards are all about us in these mountains,
+that at any moment we may be attacked. What of that? If the daughter of
+Cuba dies by her brother's side, in her country's cause, my Marguerite
+will know that it is well with her. You will shed a tear over the lonely
+grave among the Cuban hills; but you will plant a wreath for Rita, a
+wreath of mingled laurel and immortelle, and it will bloom eternally.
+
+Ever, and with a thousand greetings to my honoured and admired uncle,
+your
+
+                                    MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+Rita drew a long breath as she folded her letter. She was in a fine glow
+of mingled affection and patriotic fervour; it had been a great relief
+to pour it all out in Margaret's sympathetic ear, though that ear were a
+thousand miles away. Now she really must go to bed. It was one o'clock,
+her watch told her. It seemed wicked, profane, to sleep under such
+moonlight as this; but still, the body must be preserved.
+
+"But first," she said to herself, "I must have a drop of water; writing
+so long has made me thirsty."
+
+She took up the earthen water-jar, but found it empty. Pepe had for once
+been faithless; indeed, neither he nor Manuela had escaped the witchery
+of the full moon, and she had had little good of them that whole
+evening. She glanced at the corner where Manuela lay; the light, regular
+breathing told that the girl was sound asleep. It would be a pity to
+wake her from her first sweet sleep, poor Manuela. A year, perhaps a
+month ago, Rita would not have hesitated an instant; but now she
+murmured, "Sleep, little one! I myself will fetch the water."
+
+She stepped out into the moonlight, with the jar in her hand. All was
+still as sleep itself. No sound or motion from huts or tent. Under the
+palms lay a number of brown bundles, motionless. Dry leaves, piled
+together for burning? no! soldiers of Cuba, wrapped in such covering as
+they could find, taking their rest. Alone, beside a little heap of twigs
+that still smouldered, the sentry sat; his back was turned to her.
+Should she speak to him, and ask him to go to the spring for her? No;
+how much more interesting to go herself! Everything looked so different
+in this magic light; it was a whole new world, the moon's fairyland; who
+knew what wonderful sights might meet her eyes? Besides, her old nurse
+used to say that water drawn from a pure spring under the full moon
+produced a matchless purity of the complexion. Her complexion was well
+enough, perhaps, but still--and anyhow, it would be an adventure,
+however small a one.
+
+The girl's feet, in their soft leather slippers, made no sound on the
+bare earth. The sentry did not turn his head. Silent as a cloud, she
+stole across the little glade, and passed under the trees at the farther
+end. Here the ground broke off suddenly in a rocky pitch, down which one
+scrambled to another valley or glen lying some hundred feet lower; the
+cliff (for it was steep enough to merit that name) was mostly bare rock,
+but here and there a little earth had caught and lodged, and a few
+seeds had dropped, and a tuft of grass or a little tree had sprung up,
+defying the gulf below. A few feet only from the upper level, just below
+a group of palms that nodded over the brink, the stream gushed out from
+the face of the rock, clear and cold. The soldiers had hollowed a little
+trough to receive the trickling stream, and one had only to hold one's
+pitcher under this spout for a few minutes, to have it filled with
+delicious water. Rita had often come hither in the daytime, during the
+week that had now passed since her arrival at the mountain camp. It was
+a wild and picturesque scene at any time, but now the effect of the
+intense white light, falling on splintered rock, hanging tree, and
+glancing stream was magical indeed. Rita lay down on her face at the
+edge of the precipice, as she had seen the soldiers do, and lowered her
+jar carefully. As the water gurgled placidly into the jar, her eyes
+roved here and there, taking in every detail of the marvellous scene
+before her. Never, she thought, had she seen anything so beautiful, so
+unearthly in its loveliness. Peace! silver peace, and silence, the
+silence of--hark! what was that?
+
+A crack, as of a twig breaking; a rustling, far below in the gorge; a
+shuffling sound, as of soft shod feet pressing the soft earth. Rita
+crouched flat to the ground, and, leaning over as far as she dared,
+peered over the precipice. The bottom of the gorge was filled with a
+mass of tall grasses and feathery blossoming shrubs, with here and there
+a tree rising tall and straight. The leaves were black as jet in the
+strong light. Gazing intently, she saw the branches tremble, wave,
+separate; and against the dark leaves shone a gleam of metal, that
+moved, and came nearer. Another and yet another; and now she could see
+the dark faces, and the moon shone on the barrels of the carbines, and
+made them glitter like silver.
+
+Swiftly and noiselessly the girl drew back from the brink, crouching in
+the grass till she reached the shadow of the grove. Then she rose to her
+feet, still holding her jar of water carefully,--for there was no need
+of wasting that,--and ran for her life.
+
+A whispered word to the sentry, who sprang quickly enough from his
+reverie beside the fire; then to the General's tent, then to Carlos,
+with the same whispered message. "The Gringos are here! Wake, for the
+love of Heaven!"
+
+In another moment the little glade was alive with dusky figures,
+springing from their beds of moss and leaves, snatching their arms,
+fumbling for cartridges. The General was already among them. Carlos and
+the other officers came running, buckling their sword-belts, rubbing
+their eyes.
+
+"Where are they?" all were asking in excited whispers. "Who saw them? Is
+it another nightmare of Pepe's?"
+
+"No! no!" murmured Rita. "I saw them, I tell you! I saw their faces in
+the moonlight. I went to get some water. They are climbing up the cliff.
+I did not stop to count, but there must be many of them, from the sound
+of their feet. Oh, make haste, make haste!"
+
+The General gave his orders in a low, emphatic tone. Twenty men, with
+Carlos at their head, glided like shadows across the glade, and
+disappeared among the trees. Rita's breath came quick, and she prepared
+to follow; but the old General laid a kind hand on her arm. "No, my
+child!" he said. "You have done your country a great service this night.
+Do not imperil your life needlessly. Go rather to your room, and pray
+for your brother and for us all."
+
+But prayer was far from Rita's thoughts at that moment. "Dear General,"
+she implored, with clasped hands, the tears starting to her eyes, "Let
+me go! let me go! I implore you! I will pray afterward, I truly will. I
+will pray while I am fighting, if you will only let me go. See! I have
+come all this way to fight for my country; and must I stay away from the
+first battle? Look, dear Senor General! Look at my machete! Isn't it
+beautiful? it is the sword of a hero; I must use it for him. Let me go!"
+The beautiful face, upturned in the moonlight, the dark eyes shining
+through their tears, might have softened a harder heart than that of
+General Sevillo. He opened his lips to reply, his fatherly hand still on
+her arm, when suddenly a sharp report was heard. A single shot, then a
+volley, the shots rattling out, struck back and forth from cliff to
+cliff, multiplying in hideous echoes. Then broke out cries and groans;
+the crash of heavy bodies falling back among the trees below, and shouts
+of "_Viva Cuba_;" and still the shots rang out, and still the echoes
+cracked and snapped. Rita turned pale as death, and clasped her hands
+on her bosom. "_Ah!_ _Dios!_" she cried. "I had forgotten; there will be
+blood!" and rushing into her hut, she flung herself face downward on her
+leafy bed.
+
+The perplexed General looked after her for a moment, pulling his
+grizzled moustache. "_Caramba!_" he muttered. "To understand these
+feminines? Decidedly, this charming child must be sent into safety
+to-morrow." And shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, he strode
+in the direction of the firing.
+
+Ten minutes' sharp fighting, and the skirmish was over. The Spanish
+"guerilla" was scattered, many of the guerilleros lying dead or wounded
+at the foot of the precipice, the others scrambling and tumbling down as
+best they might. Carlos and his men had so greatly the advantage in
+position, if not in numbers, that not a single Cuban was killed, though
+two or three were more or less seriously wounded. Among these was the
+unfortunate Pedro Valdez, who had only that evening returned to camp,
+having left his child and his old mother in a place of safety. His wife
+had been allowed to remain for a short time in camp, at the request of
+the surgeon, as she had had some experience in nursing. Now he was shot
+in the arm, and his comrades lifted him gently, and carried him back.
+His wife was waiting for him. She seemed to have expected something of
+the kind, for she made no outcry; she followed quietly to the clump of
+trees distant a little way from the rest of the camp, where good Doctor
+Ferrando had the solitary rancho, the case of surgical instruments and
+the few rolls of bandages that constituted his field hospital. A rough
+table had been knocked together for operations; otherwise the sick and
+wounded fared much as the rest did, sleeping on beds of leaves and dry
+grass, and fighting the mosquitoes as best they might. Here the bearers
+laid Pedro down, and Dolores took her place quietly at his side,
+fanning away the insects that hovered in clouds about the wounded man,
+holding the poor arm while the doctor dressed it, and behaving as if her
+life had been spent in a hospital.
+
+Doctor Ferrando spoke a few words of approval, but the woman heeded them
+little; it was a matter of course that where there was suffering, she
+should be at work. So, when Pedro presently dropped off to sleep, she
+moved softly about among the wounded men, smoothing a blanket here,
+changing a ligature there, doing all with light, swift fingers whose
+touch healed instead of hurting.
+
+She was sitting beside a lad, the last to be brought in from the scene
+of the skirmish, when the screen of bushes by the rancho was parted, and
+Rita appeared. Slowly and timidly she drew near; her face was like
+marble; her eyes looked unnaturally large and dark. Dolores made a
+motion to rise, but a gesture bade her keep her place.
+
+"Hush!" said the young girl. "Sit still, Dolores! I have come--to--to
+learn!"
+
+"To learn, senorita?" repeated the woman, humbly. The senorita was in
+her grateful eyes a heaven-descended being, whose every look and word
+must be law; this new bearing amazed and puzzled her.
+
+"What can this poor soul teach the noble and high-born lady?" she asked,
+sadly. "I know nothing, not even to read; I am a poor woman merely. The
+senor doctor is this moment gone to take his distinguished siesta; do I
+call him for the senorita?"
+
+Rita shook her head, and crept nearer, gazing with wide eyes of fear at
+the prostrate form beside which Dolores was sitting.
+
+[Illustration: "'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. 'SIT STILL.'"]
+
+"See, Dolores!" she said; and her tone was as humble as the woman's own.
+"I must learn--to take care of him--of them!" She nodded at the
+sufferer. "All my life, you see, I could never bear the sight of blood.
+To cut my finger, I fainted at the instant. Always they said, 'Poor
+child! it is her delicacy, her sensibility;' they praised me; I thought
+it a fine thing, to faint, to turn pale at the word even. Now--oh,
+Dolores, do you see? I desire to help my country, my brother, all the
+heroes who are risking their life, are shedding their--their blood--for
+Cuba. I think I can fight; I forget; I see only the bright shining
+blades, the victorious banners; I forget that these heroes must bleed,
+that this horrible blood must flow in streams, in torrents, that oceans
+of it must overwhelm us, the defenders of my country. _Ay de mi!_ I
+begged the General even now to let me fight, to let me stand beside my
+Carlos, and wield my beautiful machete. Suddenly, Dolores--I heard the
+shots; I heard--terrible sounds! screams--oh, Dios!--screams of men,
+perhaps of my own brother, in anguish. All at once it came over me--I
+cannot tell you--I saw it all, the blood, the wounds, the horror to
+death. I awoke from my dreams; I was a child, do you see, Dolores? I
+was a child, playing at war, and thinking--thinking the thoughts of a
+silly, silly child. Now I am awake; now I know--what--what war means.
+So--I am foolish, but I can learn; I think I can learn. You are a brave
+woman; I have been watching you through the leaves for half an hour. I
+saw you--I saw you change those cloths; those terrible bloody cloths on
+that poor man's head. At first my eyes turned round, I saw black only;
+but I opened them again, I fixed them on what you held, I watched. Now I
+can bear quite well to look at it. Help me, Dolores! teach me--to help
+as you help; teach me to care for these brothers, as you do."
+
+Dolores looked earnestly in the beautiful young face. In spite of the
+deadly pallor, she saw that the girl was fully herself, was calm and
+determined. With a simple, noble gesture she lifted Rita's slender hand
+to her lips, saying merely: "This hand shall bring blessing to many!
+come, my senorita, and see! it is so easy, when once one knows the way
+of it."
+
+Very gently the poor peasant's wife showed the rich man's daughter the A
+B C of woman's work among the sick and suffering. At first Rita could do
+little more than control her own nerves, and fight down the faintness
+that came creeping over her at sight of the bandaged faces, ghastly
+under the brown, of the torn flesh and nerveless limbs. Gradually,
+however, she began to gain strength. The rough brown hand moved so
+easily, so lightly; it laid hold of those terrible bandages as if they
+were mere ordinary bits of linen. Surely now, she, Rita, could do that
+too. As Dolores took a cloth from her husband's head, the girl's hand
+was outstretched, took it quietly, and handed a fresh one to the nurse.
+The cloth she took was covered with red stains. For a moment Rita's head
+swam, and the world seemed to turn dark before her eyes; but she held
+the thing firmly, till her sight cleared again; then dropped it in the
+tub of water that stood ready, and taking up the fan of green palm-leaf,
+swept it steadily to and fro, driving the clouds of flies and mosquitoes
+away from the sufferer.
+
+Coming back from his siesta half an hour later, good Doctor Ferrando
+paused a moment at the entrance of the hospital grove. There were two
+nurses now; the good man gazed in astonishment at the slender figure
+kneeling beside one of the rough cots, fanning the wounded man, and
+singing in a low, sweet voice, a song of Cuba. Several of the men were
+awake, and gazing at her with delight. Dolores, with a look of quiet
+happiness on her face, sat beside the bed where her husband was sleeping
+peacefully. "Come!" said the doctor, "war, after all, has its beauty as
+well as its terror. Observe this heavenly sight, you benevolent saints!"
+he waved his cigar upward, inviting the attention of all attendant
+spirits. "Consider this lovely child, awakened to the holiness of
+womanhood! and the General will destroy all this to-morrow, from respect
+for worldly conventions! He is without doubt right; yet, what a pity!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+CAMP SCENE.
+
+
+"If I must, dear Senor General--I will be good, I will, indeed; but my
+heart will break to leave Carlos, and the camp, and you, Senor General."
+
+"My dear child,--my dear young lady, what pleasure for me to keep you
+here! the first sunshine of the war, it came with you, Senorita
+Margarita. Nevertheless, duty is duty; I should be wanting in mine, most
+wofully and wickedly wanting, if I allowed you to remain here, in hourly
+danger, when a few hours could place you in comparative safety. Perfect
+safety, I do not promise. Where shall we find it, even for our nearest
+and dearest, in this poor distracted country? But with Don Annunzio and
+his family you will be safe at least for a time; whereas here--" The
+General looked around, and shrugged his shoulders, spreading his hands
+out with a dramatic gesture. "The Gringos have learned the way to our
+mountain camp; they will not forget it. Another attack may come any
+night; our camp is an outpost, placed of purpose to guard this position,
+which must of necessity be one of danger. To have women with us--it is
+not only exposing them to the terrible possibilities of war, but--"
+
+He paused. "I see!" cried Rita. "I see! you are too kind to say it, but
+we are a burden upon you. We make harder the work; we are an
+encumbrance. Dear Senor General, I go! I fly! Give me half, a quarter of
+an hour, and I am gone. Never, never, will I be in the way of my
+country's defenders; never! Too long we have stayed already; Manuela
+shall make on the instant our packets, and in a little hour you shall
+forget that we were here at all."
+
+The good General cried out, "No! no! my dear child, my dear senorita;
+cease these words, I implore you. You cut me to the heart. Consider the
+help that you have brought to us; consider the nursing, the tender care
+that you and the wife of Valdez have given to our sufferers, in the
+rancho there. Never will this be forgotten, rest assured of that.
+But--it is true that you must go; yet not too soon. This evening, when
+the coolness falls, Don Carlos, with a chosen escort, will conduct you
+to the residence of Don Annunzio. There, I rejoice to think that you
+will find, not luxury, but at least some few of the comforts of ordinary
+life. Here you have suffered; your lofty spirit will not confess it, but
+you have--you must have suffered, delicate and fragile as you are, in
+the rough life of a Cuban camp. Enough! The day is before you, dearest
+senorita. I pray you, while it lasts, make use of me, of all that the
+camp contains, in whatever way you can imagine. I would make the day a
+pleasant one, if I might. Command me, dear senorita, in anything and
+everything. The camp is yours, with all it contains."
+
+He bowed with courtly grace, and Rita courtsied and then turned quickly
+away, to hide the tears that would come in spite of her. It was a keen
+disappointment. When Carlos told her that morning that she must leave
+the camp, she had refused pointblank. A stormy scene followed, in which
+the old Rita was only too much in evidence. She raged, she wept, she
+stamped her little foot. She was a Cuban, as much as he was; she was a
+nurse, a daughter of the army; no human power should drive her from the
+ground where she was prepared to shed her last drop of blood for the
+defenders of her country. Now--a few kind, grave words from a
+gray-haired man, and all was changed. She was not a necessity, she was a
+hindrance; she saw that this must be so; the pain was sharp, but she
+would not show it; she would never again lose her self-control, never.
+Carlos should see that she was no longer a child. He had called her a
+child, not half an hour ago, a naughty child, who was making trouble for
+everybody. Well--Rita stood still; the thought came over her
+suddenly,--it was true! she had been childish, had been naughty. Suppose
+Margaret or Peggy should behave so, stamping and storming; how would it
+seem? Oh, well, that was different. Their blood was cool, almost cold.
+It flowed sluggishly in their veins. She was a child of the South; it
+was not to be expected that she should be like Margaret. Yes! but--the
+thought would come, troubling all her mind; suppose Margaret were here,
+with her calm sense, her cheerful face, and tranquil voice; would not
+she be of more use, of more help, than a girl who could not help
+screaming when she was in a passion?
+
+These thoughts were new to Rita Montfort. Full of them, she walked
+slowly to her hut, with bent head, and eyes full of unshed tears.
+Meanwhile, the good General went back to his tent, where Carlos awaited
+him with some anxiety.
+
+"Well?" he asked, as the gray head bent under the tent-flaps.
+
+"Well," responded his commander. "It is very well, my son. The
+senorita--she is adorable, do you know it? Never have I seen a more
+lovely young person! The senorita is most reasonable. She comprehends;
+she understands the desolation that it is to me to send away so
+delightful a visitor; nevertheless--she accepts all, with her own
+exquisite grace."
+
+Carlos shrugged his shoulders; that same exquisite grace had flashed a
+dagger in his eyes not ten minutes before, vowing that it should be
+sheathed in the owner's heart before she left the camp; but it was not
+necessary to say this to the General. Carlos was an affectionate
+brother, and was honestly relieved and glad to find that Rita had come
+to her senses. He thanked General Sevillo warmly for his good offices,
+and, being off duty, went in search of his sister, determining that he
+would make her last day in camp a pleasant one, so far as lay in his
+power. He found Rita sitting sadly in the door of her hut, watching
+Manuela, who was packing up their belongings, unwillingly enough.
+Manuela had enjoyed her stay in camp greatly, and thought life would be
+very dull, in comparison, at Don Annunzio's cottage; but there was no
+escape, and the white silk blouse and the swansdown wrapper went into
+the bag with all the other fineries.
+
+"Come, Rita," said Carlos, taking his sister's hand affectionately;
+"come with me, and let me show you some things that you have not yet
+seen. You must not forget the camp. Who knows? Some day you may come
+back to pay us a visit."
+
+Rita shook her head, and the tears came to her eyes again; but she drove
+them back bravely, and smiled, and laid her hand in her brother's; and
+they passed out together among the palm-trees.
+
+Manuela looked after them, and laid her hand on her heart; it was a
+gesture that she had often seen her mistress use, and it seemed to her
+infinitely touching and beautiful. "_Ohime_," sighed Manuela. "War is
+terrible, indeed! To think that we must go away, just when we are so
+comfortable. But where, then, is this idiot? Pepe! When I call you, will
+you come, animal? Pepe!"
+
+The thicket near the rancho rustled and shook, and Pepe appeared. This
+young man presented a different figure from the forlorn one that had
+greeted the two girls on their first arrival at the camp. His curly hair
+was now carefully brushed and oiled. The scarlet handkerchief was still
+tied about his head, but it was tied now with a grace that might have
+done credit to the most dandified matador in the Havana ring. His jacket
+was neatly mended; altogether, Pepe was once more a self-respecting,
+even a self-admiring youth. Also, he admired Manuela immensely, and lost
+no opportunity of telling that she was the light of his eyes and the
+flower of his soul. He was now beginning some remarks of this
+description, but Manuela interrupted him, laying her pretty brown hand
+unceremoniously on his lips.
+
+"For once, Pepe, endeavour to possess a small portion of sense," she
+said. "Listen to me! We must leave the camp."
+
+"How then, marrow of my bones! Leave the camp? You and I?"
+
+"I am speaking to a monkey, then, instead of a man? The use, I ask you,
+of addressing intelligent remarks to such a corporosity? My mistress and
+I, simpleton. This General of yours drives us from his quarters; he
+begrudges the morsel we eat, the rude hut that shelters us. Enough! we
+go; even now I make preparation. Pull this strap for me, Pepe; at least
+you have strength. Ah! If I were but a great stupid man, it would be
+well with me this day!"
+
+"But well for no one else, my idol," said Pepe, tugging away at the
+strap. "Desolation and despair for the rest of mankind, Rose of the
+Antilles. Accidental death to this bag! why have you filled it so full?
+There! it is strapped. Manuela, is it possible that I live without you?
+No! I shall fall an easy victim to the first fever that comes; already I
+feel it scorching my--"
+
+"Oh, a paralysis upon you! Can I exercise my thoughts, with the chatter
+of a parrot in my ears? Attend, then, Pepe,--you will miss me a little,
+will you? Just a very little?"
+
+Pepe opened his mouth for new and fiery protestations, but was bidden
+peremptorily to shut it again.
+
+"I desire now to hear myself speak," said Manuela. "I weary, Pepe, for
+the sound of my own poor little voice. Listen, then! These days I have
+been here, and you have never asked me what I brought with me for you;
+brought all that cruel way from the city. I knew I should find you
+somewhere, my good Pepe; or, if not you, some other friend, some other
+good son of Cuba. I thought of you, I remembered you, even in the rush
+of our departure. See! It is yours. May it bring you fortune!"
+
+She handed him a little packet, neatly folded in white paper, and tied
+with a crimson ribbon. Receiving it with dramatic eagerness, Pepe opened
+it and looked with delight at its contents.
+
+"A _detente_!" he cried. "Manuela! and the most beautiful that has been
+seen upon the earth. This is not for me! No! Impossible! The General
+alone is worthy to wear this object of an elegance so resplendent."
+
+Reassured on this point, he proceeded to pin the emblem on his jacket,
+and contemplated it with delighted pride. It was a simple thing enough;
+a square of white flannel the size of an ordinary needlebook, neatly
+scalloped around the edge with white silk. In the centre was embroidered
+a crimson heart, and under it the words, "_Detente! pienso en ti!_" ("Be
+of good cheer! I think of thee!")
+
+"And did you really think of me, Manuela?" cried the delighted Pepe.
+"Did you, bright and gay, in the splendid city, think of the lonely
+soldier?"
+
+"Yes, I did," said Manuela, "when I had nothing else to do. And now you
+may go away, Pepe, I am busy; I cannot attend to you any longer."
+
+"But," said Pepe, bewildered, "you called me, Manuela."
+
+"Yes; to strap my bag. It is done; I thank you. It is finished."
+
+"And--you have given me the _detente_, moon of my soul!"
+
+"Then you cannot complain that I never gave you anything. And now I give
+you one thing more,--leave to depart. _Adios,_ Don Pepe!" and she
+actually shut the door of the hut in the face of her astonished adorer,
+who departed muttering strange things concerning the changeableness of
+all women, and of Manuela in particular.
+
+Meanwhile, Rita and Carlos were wandering about the camp, and Rita was
+seeing, as her brother promised, some things that were new to her, even
+after a stay of nearly a week. She saw the kitchen, or what passed for a
+kitchen,--a pleasant spot under a palm-tree, where the cook was even
+then toasting long strips of meat over the _parilla_, a kind of
+gridiron, made by simply driving four stakes, and laying bits of wood
+across and across them, then lighting a fire beneath.
+
+"But why does it not burn up, your _parilla_?" asked Rita of the long,
+lean, coffee-coloured soldier, picturesque and ragged, who was turning
+the strips with a forked stick.
+
+"Pardon, gracious senorita, it does burn up; not the first time, nor
+perhaps the second, but without doubt the third."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"And then,--it is but to build another. An affair of a moment,
+senorita."
+
+"But does not the meat often fall into the fire when it breaks?"
+
+"Sufficiently often, most noble. What of that? It imparts a flavour of
+its own; one brushes off the ashes--soldiers do not dine at the Hotel
+Royal, one must observe. May I offer the senorita a bit of this
+excellent beef? This has not fallen down at all, or at most but once,
+one little time."
+
+Rita thanked him, but was not hungry. At least she would have a cup of
+_guarapo_, the hospitable cook begged; and he hastened to bring her a
+cup of polished cocoanut shell, filled with the favourite drink, which
+was simply hot water with sugar dissolved in it. Rita took the cup
+graciously, and drank to the health of the camp, and to the freedom of
+Cuba; the cook responded with many bows and profuse thanks for the
+honour she had done him, and the brother and sister passed on.
+
+"There are some good bananas near here," said Carlos; "little red ones,
+the kind you like, Rita. I'll fill a basket for you to take with you;
+Don Annunzio's may not be so good."
+
+They were making their way through a tangle of tall grass and young
+palm-trees, when suddenly Rita stopped, and laid her hand on her
+brother's arm.
+
+"Look!" she said. "Look yonder, Carlos! The grass moves."
+
+"A snake, perhaps," said Carlos; "or a land-crab. Stand here a moment,
+and I will go forward and see."
+
+He advanced, looking keenly at the clump of yellowish grass that Rita
+had pointed out. Certainly, the grass did move. It quivered, waved from
+side to side, then seemed to settle down, as if an invisible hand were
+pulling it from below. Carlos drew his machete, and bent forward;
+whereupon a loud yell was heard, and the clump of grass shot up into the
+air, revealing a black face, and a pair of rolling eyes.
+
+"What is it?" cried Rita, in terror. "Carlos, come back to me! It is a
+devil!"
+
+"Only a scout!" said her brother, laughing. "One of our own men on
+outpost duty. Have peace, Pablo! your hour is not yet come."
+
+"_Caramba!_ I thought it was, my captain!" said the negro scout,
+grinning. "Better be a crab than a Cuban in these days."
+
+He was a singular figure indeed. From head to waist he was literally
+clothed in grass, bunches of it being tied over his head and round his
+neck and shoulders, falling to his thighs. A pair of ragged trousers of
+no particular colour completed his costume. A more perfect disguise
+could not be imagined; indeed, except when he lifted his head, he was
+not to be distinguished from the clumps and tufts of dry grass all about
+him.
+
+"Pablo is a good scout!" said Carlos, approvingly. "No Gringo could
+possibly see you till he stepped on you, Pablo; and then--"
+
+"And then!" said Pablo, grinning from ear to ear; and he drew his
+machete and went through an expressive pantomime which, if carried out,
+would certainly have left very little of Gringo or any one else.
+
+"Is your post near here? show it! The senorita would like to see how a
+Cuban scout lives."
+
+Pablo, a man of few words, gave a pleased nod, and scuttled away through
+the bush, beckoning them to follow. Rita, stepping carefully along,
+holding her brother's hand, kept her eyes on the scout for a few
+moments; then he seemed to melt into the rest of the grass, and was
+gone. A few steps more, and they almost fell over him, as his black face
+popped up again, shaking back its grassy fringes.
+
+"Behold the domicile of Pablo!" he said, with a magnificent gesture.
+"The property, with all it contains, of the senorita and the Senor
+Captain Don Carlos."
+
+Brother and sister tried to look becomingly impressed as they surveyed
+the domain. Close under a waving palm-tree a rag of brown canvas was
+stretched on two sticks laid across upright branches stuck in the
+ground. Under this awning was space for a man to sit, or even to lie
+down, if he did not mind his feet being in the sun. A small iron pot,
+hung on three sticks over some blackened stones, showed where the
+householder did his cooking; a heap of leaves and grass answered for bed
+and pillows; this was the domicile of Pablo.
+
+Breaking a twig from a neighbouring shrub, the scout bent over the pot,
+and speared a plantain, which he offered to Rita with grave courtesy.
+She took it with equal dignity, thanking him with her most gracious
+smile, and ate it daintily, praising its flavour and the perfection of
+its cooking till the good negro's face shone with pleasure.
+
+"And you stay here alone, Pablo?" she asked. "How long? you are not
+afraid? No, of course not that; you are a soldier. But lonely! is it not
+very lonely here, at night above all?"
+
+Pablo spread out his hands. "Senorita, possibly--if it were not for the
+crabs. These good souls--they have the disposition of a Christian!--sit
+with me, in the intervals of their occupations, and are excellent
+company. They cannot talk, but that suits me very well. Then, there is
+always the chance of some one coming by--as to-day, when the Blessed
+Virgin sends the senorita and the Senor Don Carlos. Also at any moment
+the devil may send me a Gringo; their scouts are as plenty as scorpions.
+No, senorita, I am not lonely. It is a fine life! In a prison, you see,
+it would be quite otherwise."
+
+"But there are other ways of living, Pablo, beside scouting and going to
+prison," said Rita, much amused.
+
+"Without doubt! Without doubt!" said Pablo, cheerfully. "And assuredly
+neither would befit the senorita. May she live as happy as she is
+beautiful, the sun being black beside her. _Adios_, senorita; _adios_,
+Senor Captain Don Carlos!"
+
+"_Adios_, good Pablo! good luck to you and your crabs!" and laughing and
+waving a salute, they left the scout nodding his grass-crowned head like
+a transformed mandarin, and went back to the camp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE PACIFICOS.
+
+
+A long, low adobe house, brilliantly white with plaster; a verandah with
+swinging hammocks; the inevitable green blinds; the inevitable cane and
+banana patch; this was Don Annunzio's. Don Annunzio Carreno himself (to
+give him his full name for once, though he seldom heard or used it) sat
+in a large rocking-chair on the verandah, smoking. He was enormously
+stout and supremely placid, and he looked the picture of peace and
+prosperity, in his spotless white suit and broad-brimmed hat.
+
+To Rita, weary after her ten miles' ride from the camp, the whole place
+seemed a page out of a picture-book. Her mind was filled with rugged and
+startling images: the rude hospital, with its ghastly sights and homely
+though devoted tendance; the ragged soldiers, with head or arm bound in
+bloody bandages; the camp fire and kitchen, the scout in his grassy
+panoply. Her eyes had grown accustomed to sights like these, and the
+bright whiteness of house and householder, the trim array of flower-beds
+and kitchen-garden, struck her as strange and artificial. She felt as if
+Don Annunzio ought to be wound up from behind, and was whimsically
+surprised to see him rise and come forward to meet them.
+
+Carlos made his explanation, and presented General Sevillo's letter. Don
+Annunzio's hat was already in his hand and he was bowing to Rita with
+all the grace his size allowed; but now he implored them to enter the
+house, which he declared he occupied henceforward only at their
+pleasure.
+
+"If the senorita will graciously descend!" said the good man. "On the
+instant I call my wife. Prudencia! Where are you, then? Visitors,
+Prudencia; visitors of distinction. Hasten quickly!"
+
+A woman appeared in the doorway; tall and lean, clad in brown calico,
+with a sun-bonnet to match, but with apron and kerchief as snowy as Don
+Annunzio's "ducks."
+
+"For the land's sake!" said Senora Carreno.
+
+Rita looked up quickly.
+
+"Visitors, my love!" Don Annunzio explained rapidly, in good enough
+English. "The Senor Captain and the Senorita Montfort, bringing a note
+from his Excellency General Sevillo. The senorita will remain with us
+for some days; I have placed all at her disposal; I--"
+
+"There, Noonsey!" said the lady, not unkindly. "You set down, and let me
+see what's goin' on."
+
+She laid a powerful hand on her husband's shoulder, and pushed him into
+his chair again; then advanced to the verandah steps, regarding the
+newcomers with frank but cheerful scrutiny.
+
+"What's all this?" she said. "Good mornin'! Yes, it's a fine day. Won't
+you step in?"
+
+Carlos told his story, and asked permission for his sister and her maid
+to spend some days at the house until some permanent place could be
+found for her.
+
+The senora considered with frowning brows, not of anger but of
+consideration.
+
+"Well," she said, "I did say I wouldn't take no more boarders. I had
+trouble with the last ones, and said I'd got through accommodatin'
+folks. Still--I dunno but we could manage--does she understand when
+she's spoke to--English, I mean?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I do!" cried Rita, coming forward. "I am only half Cuban;
+it is good to hear you speak. If you will let me stay, I will try to
+give little trouble. May I stay, please?"
+
+"Well, I guess you may!" cried the New England woman. "You walk right in
+and lay off your things, and make yourself to home. The idea! Why didn't
+you say--why, it's as good as a meal o' victuals to hear you speak. Been
+to the States, have you? Well, now, if that don't beat all! Noonsey, you
+go and tell Jose we shall want them chickens for supper. Set down, young
+man! This your hired gal, dear? Does she speak English? Well no, I
+s'pose not."
+
+She said a few words to Manuela in Spanish which, if not melodious, was
+intelligible, and then led Rita into the house, talking all the way.
+
+"Here's the settin'-room; and here's the spare-room off'n it. There! lay
+your things on the bed, dear. I keep on talkin', when all the time I
+want to hear you talk. It is good to hear your native speech, say what
+they will. Husband, he does his best, to please me; but it's like as
+though he was speakin' molasses, some way. Been in the States to
+school, did you say?"
+
+Rita told her story: of her American father, who had always spoken
+English with her and her brother; of the summer spent in the North with
+her uncle and cousins. "Oh," she said, "you are right. I used to think
+that I was two-thirds Cuban; I thought I cared little, little, for the
+American part of me. Now--but it is music to hear you speak, Senora
+Carreno."
+
+"S'pose you call me Marm Prudence!" said the good woman, half-shyly. "I
+don't see as 'twould be any harm, and I should like dretful well to hear
+the name again. I was a widow when I married Don Noonzio. Yes'm. My
+first husband was captain of a fruit schooner. I voyaged with him
+considerable. He died in Santiago, and I never went back home: I
+couldn't seem to. I washed and sewed for families I knew, and then
+bumbye I married Don Noonzio. He gave me a good home, and he's a good
+provider. There's times, though, that I'm terrible homesick. There! I
+don't know what I should do if 'twa'n't for my settin'-room. Did you
+notice it, comin' through? I just go there and set sometimes, and look
+round, and cry. It does me a sight o' good."
+
+Rita had indeed glanced around the sitting-room as she passed through
+it, but it said nothing to her. The six haircloth chairs, the
+marble-topped centre-table with its wool and bead mat, its glass lamp
+with the red wick, its photograph-album and gilt family Bible, did not
+speak her language. Neither did the mantelpiece, with its two china
+poodles and its bunches of dried grasses in vases of red and white
+Bohemian glass. The Cuban girl could not know how eloquent were all
+these things to the exiled Vermont woman; but she looked sympathetic,
+and felt so, her heart warming to the homely soul, with her rugged
+speech and awkward gestures.
+
+Marm Prudence now insisted that her guest must be tired, and brought out
+a superb quilt, powdered with red and blue stars, to tuck her up under;
+but word came that Captain Montfort was going, and Rita hurried out to
+the verandah to bid him farewell. Carlos took her in his arms,
+affectionately. "How is it, then, little sister?" he asked. "Are you
+reconciled at all? Can you stay here in peace a little, with these good
+people?"
+
+Rita returned his caress heartily. "You were right, Carlos!" she said.
+"You and the dear General were both right. It was wonderful to be there
+in camp; I shall never forget it; I hope I shall be better all my life
+for it; but I could not have stayed long, I see that now. Here I shall
+be taken care of; here I shall rest, as under a grandmother's care. This
+good Marm Prudence,--that is what I am to call her, Carlos,--already I
+love her, already she tends me as a bird tends her young. Ah, Carlos,
+you will not neglect Chico? I leave him as a sacred legacy. The men
+implored me so. They said the bird had brought them good fortune once,
+and would be their salvation again; I had not the heart to take him from
+them. You will see that they do not feed him too much? Already he has
+had a fit of illness from too much kindness on the part of our faithful
+soldiers. Thank you! and have no thought of me, my brother; all will be
+well with me. Return to your glorious duty, son of Cuba. It may be that
+even here, in this peaceful spot, it may be given to your Rita to serve
+the mother we both adore. _Adios_, Carlos! Heaven be with thee!"
+
+Carlos, who was of a practical turn of mind, was always uncomfortable
+when Rita spread her rhetorical wings. He did not see why she could not
+speak plain English. But he kissed her affectionately, heartily glad
+that he could leave her content with her surroundings; and with a
+cordial farewell to the good people of the house, he rode away,
+followed by his clanking orderlies, leading the horse Rita had ridden.
+
+While all this had been going on, Manuela had been arranging her
+mistress's things; shaking out the crumpled dresses, brushing off the
+bits of grass and broken straw that clung to hem and ruffle, mementoes
+of the days in camp. Manuela sighed over these relics, and shook her
+head mournfully.
+
+"Poor Pepe!" she said. "If only he does not fall into a fever from
+grief! Ah, love is a terrible thing! _Dios_! what a rent in the
+senorita's serge skirt! A paralysis on the brambles in that place! yet
+it was a good place. At least there was life. One heard voices, neighing
+of horses, jingling of stirrups. Here we shall grow into two young
+cabbages beside that old one, my senorita and her poor Manuela. Ah, life
+is very sad!"
+
+Here Manuela chanced to look out of the window, and saw a handsome
+Creole boy leading a horse to water in the courtyard. Instantly her
+face lighted up. She flew to the looking-glass, and was arranging her
+hair with passionate eagerness, when the door opened, and Rita entered,
+followed by their kind hostess. Manuela started, then turned to drop a
+demure courtsey. "I was examining the glass," she explained, "to see if
+it was fit for the senorita to use. These common mirrors, you
+understand, they draw the countenance this way, that way,--" she
+expressed her meaning in vivid pantomime,--"one thinks one's visage of
+caoutchouc. But this is passable; I assure you, senorita, passable."
+
+"Well, I declare!" said Marm Prudence. "My best looking-glass, that I
+brought from Chelsea, Massachusetts, when I was first married! If it
+ain't good enough for you, young woman, you're free to do without it,
+and so I tell you."
+
+She spoke with some severity, but softened instantly as she turned to
+Rita. "Now you'll lie down and rest you a spell, won't you, dear?" she
+said. "I must go and see about supper, and I sha'n't be satisfied till I
+see you tucked up under my 'Old Glory spread.' That's what I call it; it
+has the colours, you see. There! comfortable? Now you shut your pretty
+eyes, and have a good sleep. And you," she added, turning to Manuela,
+"can come and help me a spell, if you've nothing better to do. I'm
+short-handed; help is turrible skurce in war-time, and I can keep you
+out of Satan's hands, if nothing else."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+IN HIDING.
+
+
+"You busy, Miss Margaritty?"
+
+It was Marm Prudence's voice, and at the sound Rita opened her door
+quickly. She and Manuela had been holding a mournful consultation over
+the state of her wardrobe, which had had rough usage during the past two
+weeks, and she was glad of an interruption.
+
+"I thought mebbe you'd like to come and set with me a spell while I
+worked."
+
+"Oh, yes!" cried Rita, eagerly. "And may I not work, too? Isn't there
+something I can do to help?"
+
+"Why, I should be pleased!" said the good woman. "I'm braidin' hats for
+the soldiers. I promised a dozen to-morrow night. It's pretty work;
+mebbe you'd like to try."
+
+"For the soldiers? For our soldiers? Oh, what joy, Marm Prudencia! No,
+Prudence, you like better that. Show me, please! I burn to begin."
+
+"Why, you're real eager, ain't you?" said Marm Prudence. "Now I'm glad I
+spoke; I thought mebbe 'twould suit you. Young folks like to be at
+something."
+
+In a few minutes the two were seated on the cool inner verandah, looking
+out on the garden, with a great basket between them, heaped with
+delicate strips of palmetto leaf, white and smooth.
+
+"Husband, he whittles 'em for me," Marm Prudence explained. "It's
+occupation for him. Fleshy as he is, he can't get about none too much,
+and this keeps his hands busy. It's hard to be a man and lose the
+activity of your limbs. But there! there's compensations, I always say.
+If Noonsey was as he was ten years ago, he'd be off with the rest, and
+then where'd I be?"
+
+"Then"--Rita's eyes flashed, and she bent nearer her hostess, and spoke
+low. "Then you are not at heart _pacificos_, Marm Prudence. On the
+surface, I understand, I comprehend, it is necessary; but _au fond_, in
+your secret hearts, you are with us; you are Cubans. Is it not so? It
+must be so!"
+
+"Oh, land, yes!" said Marm Prudence, composedly. "I'm an American, you
+see; and husband, he's a Cuban five generations back. We don't have no
+dealin's with the Gringos, more than we're obleeged to. Livin' right
+close t' the road as we do, we can't let out the way we feel, but I
+guess there's mighty few Mambis about here but knows where to come when
+they want things. There ain't many so bold as your brother, to come in
+open daylight, but come night, they're often as thick as bats about the
+garden here. There! I have to shoo' em off sometimes; yet I like to
+have 'em, too."
+
+Rita's face glowed with excitement. "Oh, Marm Prudence," she cried; "how
+glorious! Oh, what fortune, what joy, to be here with you! We will work
+together; we will toil; our blood shall flow in fountains, if it is
+needed. Embrace me, mother of Cuba!"
+
+Marm Prudence put on her spectacles, and surveyed the excited girl with
+some anxiety.
+
+"Let me feel your pult, dear!" she said, soothingly. "You got a touch o'
+sun, like as not, riding in that heat this morning. Now there's no call
+to get worked up, or talk about blood-sheddin'. Blood-sheddin' ain't in
+our line, yours nor mine, nor husband's neither. Fur as doin' goes,
+we're all _pacificos_ here, Miss Margaritty, and you mustn't forget
+that. Just wait a minute, and I'll go and git you a cup of my balm-tea;
+'tis real steadyin' to the nerves, and I expect yours is strung up some
+with all you've be'n through."
+
+Rita protested that she was perfectly well, and not at all excited; but
+she submitted, and drank the balm-tea meekly, as it was cold and
+refreshing.
+
+"It is my ardent nature!" she explained. "It is the fire of my
+patriotism which consumes me. Do you not feel it, Marm Prudence,
+oftentimes, like a flame in your bosom?"
+
+No, Marm Prudence was not aware that she did. Things took folks
+different, she said, placidly. She had an aunt when she was a little
+gal, that used to have spasms reg'lar every time she heard the baker's
+cart. Some thought she had had hopes of the baker before he married a
+widow woman, but you couldn't always account for these things. What a
+pretty braid Rita was getting!
+
+[Illustration: "'WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEEN IN PARIS?'"]
+
+Indeed, the work suited Rita's nimble fingers to perfection, and yard
+after yard of snowy braid rolled over her lap and grew into a pile at
+her feet. She was eager to make her first hat. After an hour or two
+of braiding, she discovered that it suited Manuela's genius better than
+her own. The basket of splints was turned over to the willing
+handmaiden, and good-natured Marm Prudence showed Rita how to sew the
+braids together smooth and flat, and initiated her into the mysteries of
+crown and brim. In a creditably short space of time, Rita, with infinite
+pride, held her first hat aloft, and twirled it round and round on her
+finger.
+
+"But, it is perfect!" she cried. "The shape, the colour, the air of it.
+Manuela, quick! a mirror! hold it for me--so! look!" She took the ribbon
+from her belt, and began to twist it in one coquettish knot after
+another about the hat, which she had set on her dark hair.
+
+"Is that _chic_? Is it adorable, I ask you? Was such a hat ever seen in
+Paris? Never! I wear no other from this day on; hear me swear it! It
+will become the rage; I will make it so. Or--no! I will keep to myself
+the secret, and others will die of envy. I name it, Manuela. The
+Prudencia, for thee, my kind hostess. Why do you laugh?"
+
+Marm Prudence was twinkling in her quiet way. "I was only thinkin'
+there'd have to be one soldier boy go without his hat to-morrow!" she
+said, good-humouredly. "It does look nice on you, though, Miss
+Margaritty, that's certin."
+
+Blushing scarlet, Rita tore the hat from her head.
+
+"Ah!" she cried, casting it on the floor. "Wretch, ingrate, _serpent_
+that I am! Take away the glass, girl! take it away; break it into a
+thousand pieces, to shame my vanity, and never speak to me of hats
+again. Henceforward I tie a shawl over my head, for the remainder of my
+life; I have said it."
+
+Much depressed, she worked away in silence, as if her life depended upon
+it. Manuela, shrugging her shoulders, carried off the glass, but did
+not think it necessary to obey the injunction to break it. She was used
+to her senorita's outbreaks, and returned placidly to her braiding as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+The good hostess regarded her pretty visitor with some alarm, mingled
+with amusement and admiration. She might have her hands full, she
+thought, if she attempted to keep this young lady occupied, and out of
+mischief. The time when she was asleep was likely to be the most
+peaceful time in Casa Annunzio. Yet how pretty she was! and what a
+pleasure it was to hear her speak, something between a bird and a flute.
+On the whole, Marm Prudence thought her coming a thing to be thankful
+for.
+
+Talking with Don Annunzio himself that evening, Rita found him far less
+guarded than his wife in his expression of patriotic zeal. He echoed her
+saying, that every Mambi in the country knew where to come when he
+wanted anything; and he went on to draw lurid pictures of what he would
+do to the Gringos if he but had the power.
+
+"See, senorita!" he said, in his wheezy, asthmatic voice. "I am
+powerless, am I not? Already of a certain age, I am afflicted with an
+accession of flesh; moreover, I am short of breath, owing to this
+apoplexy of an asthma. Worse than this, my legs, if the senorita can
+pardon the allusion, refuse now these two years to do their office. With
+two sticks, I can hobble about the house and garden; without them,
+behold me a fixture. How, then? When the war breaks out, I go to my
+General, to General Sevillo, under whom I served in the ten years' war.
+I say to him, 'Things are thus and thus with me, but still I would serve
+my country. Give me a horse, and let me ride with you as an orderly.'
+Alas! it may not be. 'Annunzio,' he says, 'your day of service in the
+field is over. Stay at home, and help our men when they call upon you.
+Thus you can do more good ten-fold than you could do in the saddle.'
+
+"_Ohime_! my heart is broken; it is reduced to powder, but what will
+you? reason, joined to authority,--I am but a simple man, and I obey.
+Since then, I sit and whittle splints for my admirable wife. A woman,
+senorita, to rule a nation! The Gringos pass by, and see me working at
+my trade. I greet them civilly, I supply requisitions when backed by
+authority; again, what will you? I suffer in silence till their back is
+turned, and my maledictions accompany them along the road. Ah! if none
+of them had longer life than I wish him, the road would be encumbered
+with corpses. Then,--draw your chair nearer, senorita, if you will have
+the infinite graciousness,--then, at night--it may be this very
+night--the others come. Hush! yes--the Mambis; the sons of Cuba.
+Quietly, by ones, by twos, they appear, dropping from the sky, rising
+from the earth. Then--ha! then, you shall see. Not a word more,
+Senorita Margarita! Donna Prudencia is a pearl, an empress among women,
+but rightly named; she complains that I talk too much on these subjects.
+But when one's heart is in the field, and one's legs refuse to
+follow,--again, what would you? No matter! silence is golden! Wait but a
+little, and you shall see. Who knows? It may be this very night."
+
+Thus Don Annunzio, with many nods and winks, and gestures of dramatic
+caution. His words fanned the flame of Rita's zeal, and she longed for
+one of the promised nocturnal visits. That night and the next she was
+constantly waking, listening for a whisper, the clank of a chain, the
+jingle of a spur; but none came, and the nights passed as peacefully as
+the days. The dozen, and more, were completed; and then, in spite of her
+vow, Rita found time to make one for herself, certainly as pretty a hat
+as heart could desire. So pretty, Rita thought it a thousand pities
+that there was no one beside Don Annunzio and Marm Prudence to see her
+in it. She sighed, and thought of the camp among the hills, of Carlos
+and the General, and Don Uberto.
+
+One day, soon after noon, Marm Prudence asked Rita if she would like to
+take a walk with her. Rita assented eagerly, and put on her pretty hat.
+She looked on with surprise as Marm Prudence proceeded to take from a
+cupboard an ample covered basket, from which protruded the neck of a
+bottle and some plump red bananas.
+
+"Are we going on a picnic, then?" she asked.
+
+The good woman nodded. "You'll see, time enough!" she said. "It's a
+picnic for somebody, if not for us, Miss Margaritty. Look, dear! is Don
+Noonsey out in the ro'd there?"
+
+Don Annunzio was out in the road, having made what was quite a journey
+for him, down the verandah steps, along the garden walk, and across the
+sunny road. He now stood shading his eyes with his hand, looking this
+way and that with anxious glances.
+
+At length, "All is quiet!" he said. "The road is clear, and no sign
+anywhere. Make haste then, _mi alma_, and cross while yet all is safe."
+
+Beckoning to Rita, Marm Prudence slipped out and across the road
+swiftly, not pausing till she had gained the screen of a thick clump of
+cacti. Rita kept close to her side, drinking the mystery like wine. They
+stood for a few moments behind the aloes; then Don Annunzio spoke again.
+
+"All is still perfect, and you may go without fear. Carry my best
+greetings whither you are going. At the proper hour I will await you
+here, and signal when return is safe."
+
+Without wasting words, his wife waved her hand, and turning, plunged
+into the forest, followed by the delighted Rita.
+
+The tangle of underbrush was higher than their heads, but they made
+their way quickly, and Rita soon saw that a narrow path wound along
+through the bush, and that the ground under her feet had been trodden
+many times. The trees towered high above the dense undergrowth, some
+leafy and branching, others, the palms, tossing their single plume
+aloft. Open near the wood, the wood grew thicker and thicker, till it
+stood like a wall on either side of the narrow footpath; the twigs and
+leaves, broken and crushed here and there, showed, like the path, the
+traces of frequent passage.
+
+Rita was burning with curiosity, yet she would not for worlds have asked
+a question. They were nearing every moment the heart of the mystery; she
+would not spoil the dramatic effect by prying into it too soon.
+
+Suddenly, a gleam of sunlight struck through the trees. They were near
+the end of the wood, then. A few steps more, and she caught her breath,
+with a low cry of amazement.
+
+A round hollow, dipping deep like a cup, with here and there a great
+tree standing. On one side, a clear spring flowing from a rocky cleft.
+Under one tree, a hammock slung, and in a hammock a man asleep. Thus
+much Rita saw at the first glance. The next instant the man was on his
+feet, and the long barrel of his carbine gleamed level at sight.
+
+"_Alto! quien va?_" the challenge rang clear and sharp.
+
+"_Cuba!_" replied Senora Carreno. "For the land's sake, Mr. Delmonty,
+don't start a person like that. You'd oughter know my sunbunnit by this
+time."
+
+The young man had already lowered his weapon, and showed a laughing face
+of apology as he lifted his broad-brimmed hat.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Donna Prudencia," he said. "I was asleep, and
+dreaming; not of angels!" he added, as he made another low bow, which
+included Rita in its sweep of respectful courtesy.
+
+He spoke English like an Anglo-Saxon, without trace of accent or
+hesitation. His hair and complexion were brown, but a pair of bright
+blue eyes lightened his face in an extraordinary manner.
+
+Who might this be?
+
+"Mr. Delmonty, let me make ye acquainted with Miss Margaritty Montfort!"
+said Senora Carreno, with some ceremony. "Miss Montfort is stoppin' with
+us for a spell. Both of you bein' half Yankee, I judged you might be
+pleased to meet up with each other."
+
+Rita bowed with her most queenly air; then relaxed, as she met the merry
+glance of the blue eyes.
+
+"Are you?" she said. "I am very glad--but your name is Spanish."
+
+"My father was a Cuban," said the young man; "my mother is American. She
+was a Russell of Claxton." He paused a moment, as if inviting comment;
+but Rita, brought up in Cuba, knew nothing of the Russells of Claxton, a
+famous family.
+
+"I've been in the North most of the time since I was a little shaver,"
+he went on, "at school and college; came down here last year, when
+things seemed to be brewing. Have you been much in Boston, Miss
+Montfort? We might have some acquaintances in common."
+
+Rita shook her head, and told him of her one summer in the North. "I
+hope to go again," she said, "when our country is free. When Cuba has no
+longer need of her daughters, as well as her sons, I shall gladly return
+to that fair northern country."
+
+Again she caught a quizzical glance of the blue eyes, and was reminded,
+she hardly knew why, of her Uncle John. But Uncle John's eyes were
+brown.
+
+"You are--alone here, Senor Delmonte?" she asked, glancing around the
+solitary dell.
+
+"Yes," said the young man, composedly. "I'm in hiding."
+
+Rita's eyes flashed. Hiding! a son of Cuba! skulking about in the woods,
+while his brother soldiers were at the front, or, like Carlos, guarding
+the hill passes! This was indeed being only half a Cuban. She would have
+nothing to do with recreant soldiers; and she turned away with a face of
+cold displeasure.
+
+"How's your foot?" asked Senora Carreno, abruptly. "That last dressing
+fetch it, do you think?"
+
+"All right!" said the young man. "Look! I have my shoe on." And he held
+up one foot with an air of triumph. "I shall be ready for the road
+to-night, and take my troublesome self off your hands, Senora Carreno."
+
+"No trouble at all!" said the good woman, earnestly. "Not a mite of
+trouble but what was pleasure, Captain Jack."
+
+Captain Jack! where had Rita heard that name? Before she could try to
+think, her hostess went on.
+
+"Well, I kinder hate to have you go, but of course you're eager, same as
+all young folks are. But look here! You'd better pass the night with us,
+and let me see to your foot once more, and give you a good night's sleep
+in a Christian bed; and then I can mend up your things a bit, and you
+lay by till night again, and start off easy and comfortable."
+
+"It sounds very delightful," said the young man, with a glance at the
+charming girl who would stand with her head turned away. "But how about
+the Gringos, Donna Prudencia? Supposing some of them should come along
+to-morrow!"
+
+"They won't come to-morrow!" said Marm Prudence, significantly.
+
+"No? you have assurance of that? and why may they not come to-morrow?"
+
+"Because they've come to-day, most likely!"
+
+Rita started, and turned back toward the speakers.
+
+"The Gringos? to-day?" she cried.
+
+Marm Prudence nodded. "That was why I brought you here, dear," she said;
+"most of the reason, that is. We got word they was most likely comin',
+quite a passel of 'em; and we judged it was well, Don Noonsey and me,
+that they shouldn't see you. I thought mebbe," she added, with a sly
+glance at the basket, "that if I brought a little something extry, we
+might get an invitation to take a bite of luncheon, but we don't seem
+to."
+
+"Oh! but who could have supposed that I was to have _all_ the good
+things in the world?" cried Delmonte, merrily. "This is really too good
+to be true. Help me, Donna Prudencia, while I set out the feast! Why,
+this is the great day of the whole campaign."
+
+The two unpacked the basket, with many jests and much laughter; they
+were evidently old friends. Meantime Rita stood by, uncertain of her own
+mood. To miss an experience, possibly terrible, certainly thrilling; to
+have lost an opportunity of declaring herself a daughter of Cuba,
+possibly of shooting a Spaniard for herself, and to have been deceived,
+tricked like a child; this brought her slender brows together,
+ominously, and made her eyes glitter in a way that Manuela would have
+known well. On the other hand--here was a romantic spot, a young
+soldier, apparently craven, but certainly wounded, and very
+good-looking; and here was luncheon, and she was desperately hungry. On
+the whole--
+
+The tragedy queen disappeared, and it was a cheerful though very
+dignified young person who responded gracefully to Delmonte's petition
+that she would do him the favour to be seated at his humble board.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY.
+
+
+That was a pleasant little meal, under the great plane-tree in the
+cup-shaped dell. Marm Prudence had kept, through all her years of
+foreign residence, her New England touch in cookery, and Senor Delmonte
+declared that it was worth a whole campaign twice over to taste her
+doughnuts. They drank "_Cuba Libre_" in raspberry vinegar that had come
+all the way from Vermont, and Rita was obliged to confess that Senor
+Delmonte was a charming host, and that she was enjoying herself
+extremely.
+
+It was late in the afternoon when she and Marm Prudence took their way
+back through the forest. At first Rita was silent; but as distance
+increased between them and the dell, she could not restrain her
+curiosity.
+
+How was it, she asked, that this young man was there alone, separated
+from his companions? He said he was in hiding. Hiding! a detestable, an
+unworthy word! Why should a son of Cuba be in hiding, she wished to
+know! She had worked herself into a fine glow of indignation again, and
+was ready to believe anything and everything bad about the agreeable
+youth with the blue eyes.
+
+"I must know!" she repeated, dropping her voice to a contralto note that
+she was fond of. "Tell me, Marm Prudence; tell me all! have I broken the
+bread of a recreant?"
+
+"I thought it was my bread," said Marm Prudence, dryly. "I'll tell you,
+if you'll give me a chance, Miss Margaritty. I supposed, though, that
+you'd have heard of Jack Delmonty; Captain Jack, as they call him. Since
+his last raid the Gringos have offered a big reward for him, alive or
+dead. He was wounded in the foot, and thought he might hender his troop
+some if he tried to go with them in that state. So he camped here, and
+we've seen to him as best we could."
+
+Rita was dumb, half with amazement, half with mortification. How was it
+possible that she had been so stupid? Heard of Captain Jack? where were
+her wits? the daring guerrilla leader, the pride of the Cuban bands, the
+terror of all Spaniards in that part of the island. Why, he was one of
+her pet heroes; only--only she had fancied him so utterly different. The
+Captain Jack of her fancy was a gigantic person, with blue-black curls,
+with eyes like wells of black light (she had been fond of this bit of
+description, and often repeated it to herself), a superb moustache, and
+a nose absolutely Grecian, like the Santillo nose of tender memory. This
+half-Yankee stripling, blue-eyed, with a nose that--yes, that actually
+turned up a little, and the merest feather of brown laid on his upper
+lip--how could she or any one suppose this to be the famous cavalry
+leader?
+
+Rita blushed scarlet with distress, as she remembered her bearing, which
+she had tried to make as scornful as was compatible with good manners.
+She had meant, had done her best, to show him that she thought lightly
+of a Cuban soldier who, for what reason soever, proclaimed himself
+without apology to be "in hiding." To be sure, he had not seemed to feel
+the rebuke as she had expected he would. Once or twice she had caught
+that look of Uncle John in his eyes; the laughing, critical, yet kindly
+scrutiny that always made her feel like a little girl, and a silly girl
+at that. Was that what she had seemed to Captain Delmonte? Of course it
+was. She had had the great, the crowning opportunity of her life, of
+doing homage to a real hero (she forgot good General Sevillo, who had
+been a hero in a quiet and business-like way for sixty years), and she
+had lost the opportunity.
+
+It was a very subdued Rita who returned to the house that evening. At
+the edge of the wood they were met by Don Annunzio, who stood as before,
+smoking his long black cigar, and scrutinising the road and the
+surrounding country. A wave of his hand told them that all was well, and
+they stepped quickly across the road, and in another minute were on the
+verandah.
+
+Don Annunzio followed them with an elaborate air of indifference; but
+once seated in his great chair, he began to speak eagerly, gesticulating
+with his cigar.
+
+"_Dios!_ Prudencia, you had an inspiration from heaven this day. What I
+have been through! the sole comfort is that I have lost twenty pounds at
+least, from sheer anxiety. Imagine that you had not been gone an hour,
+when up they ride, the _guerrilla_ that was reported to us yesterday. At
+their head, that pestiferous Col. Diego Moreno. He dismounts, demands
+coffee, bananas, what there is. I go to get them; and, the saints
+aiding me, I meet in the face the pretty Manuela. Another instant, and
+she would have been on the verandah, would have been seen by these
+swine, female curiosity having led her to imagine a necessary errand in
+that direction. I seize this charming child by the shoulders, I push her
+into her room. I tell her, 'Thou hast a dangerous fever. Go to thy bed
+on the instant, it is a matter of thy life.'
+
+"My countenance is such that she obeys without a word. She is an
+admirable creature! Beauty, in the female sex--"
+
+"Do go on, Noonsey," said his wife, good-naturedly, "and never mind
+about beauty now. Land knows we have got other things to think about."
+
+"It is true, it is true, my own!" replied the amiable fat man. "I return
+to the verandah. This man is striding up and down, cutting at my poor
+vines with his apoplexy of a whip. He calls me; I stand before him
+thus, civil but erect.
+
+"'Have you any strangers here, Don Annunzio?'
+
+"'No, Senor Colonel.'
+
+"It is true, senorita. To make a stranger of you, so friendly, so
+gracious--the thought is intolerable.
+
+"He approaches, he regards me fixedly.
+
+"'A young lady, Senorita Montfort, and her maid, escaped from the
+carriage of her stepmother, the honourable Senora Montfort, while on the
+way to the convent of the White Sisters, ten days ago. A man of my
+command was taken by these hill-cats of Mambis, and carried to a camp in
+this neighbourhood. He escaped, and reported to me that a young lady and
+her attendant were in the camp. I raided the place yesterday.'
+
+"'With success, who can doubt?' I said. Civility may be used even to the
+devil, whom this officer strongly resembled.
+
+"He stamped his feet, he ground his teeth, fire flashed from his eyes.
+'They were gone!' he said. 'They had been gone but a few hours, for the
+fires were still burning, but no trace of them was to be found. I found,
+however, in a deserted _rancho_,--this!' and he held up a delicate comb
+of tortoise-shell."
+
+"My side-comb!" cried Rita. "I wondered where I had lost it. Go on,
+pray, Don Annunzio."
+
+"He questioned me again, this colonel, on whom may the saints send a
+lingering disease. I can swear that there is no young lady in the house?
+but assuredly, I can, and do swear it, with all earnestness. He
+whistles, and swears also--in a different manner. He says, 'I must
+search the house. This is an important matter. A large reward is offered
+by the Senora Montfort for the discovery of this young lady.'
+
+"'Search every rat-hole, my colonel,' I reply; 'but first take your
+coffee, which is ready at this moment.'
+
+"In effect, Antonia arrives at the instant with the tray. While she is
+serving him, I find time to slip with the agility of the serpent into
+the passage, and turn the handle of the bedroom door. 'Spotted fever!' I
+cry through the crack; and am back at my post before the colonel could
+see round Antonia's broad back. Good! he drinks his coffee. He devours
+your cakes, my Prudencia, keeping his eye on me all the time, and plying
+me with questions. I tell him all is well with us, except the sickness.
+
+"'How then? what sickness?'
+
+"'A servant is ill with fever,' I say. 'We hope that it will not spread
+through the house; it is a bad time for fever.' I see he does not like
+that, he frowns, he mutters maledictions. I profess myself ready to
+conduct him through my poor premises; I lead him through the parlour,
+which he had not sense to admire, to the kitchen, to our own apartment,
+my cherished one. All the time my heart flutters like a wounded dove. I
+cry in my soul, 'All depends on the wit of that child. If she had but
+gone with Prudencia to the forest!'
+
+"Finally there is no escape, we must pass the door. I stop before it.
+'Open!' says the colonel.
+
+"'Your Excellency will observe,' I say, 'that there is a dangerous case
+of spotted fever in this room.'
+
+"He turns white, then black. He pulls his moustache, which resembles a
+mattress.
+
+"At last 'How do I know?' he cries; 'You may be lying! all Cubans are
+liars. The girl may be in this room!'
+
+[Illustration: "'I THROW OPEN THE DOOR AND STEP BACK, MY HEART IN MY
+MOUTH.'"]
+
+"I throw open the door and step back, my heart in my mouth, my eyes
+flinging themselves into the apartment. Heavens! what do we see? a
+hideous face projects itself from the bed. Red--black--a face from the
+pit! A horrible smell is in our nostrils--we hear groans--enough! The
+colonel staggers back, cursing. I close the door and follow him out to
+the verandah. My own nerves are shaken, I admit it; it was a thing to
+shatter the soul. Still cursing, he mounts his horse, and rides away
+with his troop. I see them go. They carry away the best of what the
+house holds, but what of that? they are gone!
+
+"I hasten, as well as my infirmity allows, to the chamber. I cry
+'Manuela, is it thou?'
+
+"I am bidden to enter. I open the door, and find that admirable child at
+the toilet-table, washing her face and laughing till the tears flow.
+Already half of her pretty face is clean, but half still hideous to
+behold.
+
+"'How did you do it?' I ask her. She laughs more merrily than before; if
+you have noticed, she has a laughter of silver bells, this maiden. 'The
+red lip-salve,' she says, 'and a little ink. Have no fear, Don
+Annunzio; it was you who discovered the fever, you know.'
+
+"'But the smell, my child? there must be something bad here, something
+unhealthy; a vile smell!'
+
+"She laughs again, this child. 'I burned a piece of tortoise-shell,' she
+says. 'Saint Ursula forgive me, it was one of the senorita's side-combs,
+but there was nothing else at hand.'
+
+"Thus then, senorita, thus, my Prudencia, has Manuela virtually saved
+our house and ourselves. Hasten to embrace her! I have already permitted
+myself the salute of a father upon her charming cheek, as simple
+gratitude enjoined it."
+
+As if by magic--could she have been listening in the passage?--Manuela
+appeared, blushing and radiant. Donna Prudencia did not think it
+necessary to kiss her, but she shook her warmly by the hand, telling her
+that she was a good girl, and fit to be a Yankee, a compliment which
+Manuela hardly appreciated. As for Rita, she kissed the girl on both
+cheeks, and stood holding her hands, gazing at her with wistful eyes.
+
+"Ah, Manuela," she cried; "I must not begrudge it to you. You are a
+heroine; you have had the opportunity, and you knew how to take it.
+Daughter of Cuba, your sister blesses you."
+
+Before Manuela could reply, Donna Prudencia broke in. "There! there!"
+she said. "Come down off your high horse, Miss Margaritty, there's a
+dear; and help me to see to things. Here's Captain Delmonty coming
+to-night, and them chicken-thieves of Gringos have carried off every
+living thing there was to eat in the house."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+CAPTAIN JACK.
+
+
+When Jack Delmonte appeared, late in the evening, he was puzzled at the
+change which had come over the pretty Grand Duchess, as he had mentally
+nicknamed Rita. In the afternoon she had appeared, he could not imagine
+why, to regard him as a portion of the scum of the earth. He thought her
+extremely pretty, and full of charm, yet he could not help feeling
+provoked, in spite of his amusement, at the disdainful curl at the
+corners of her mouth when she addressed him. Now, he was equally at a
+loss to understand why or how the Grand Duchess was replaced by a gentle
+and tender-voiced maiden, who looked up at him from under her long
+curved lashes with timid and deprecatory glances. She insisted on
+mixing his _granita_ herself, and brought it in the one valuable cup
+Marm Prudence possessed, a beautiful old bit of Lowestoft. She begged to
+hear from his own lips about his last raid--about all his raids. She had
+heard about some of them; the one where he had swum the river under fire
+to rescue the little lame boy; the other, when he had chased five
+Spaniards for half a mile, with no other weapon than a banana pointed at
+full cock. She even knew of some exploits that he had never heard of;
+and the honest captain found himself blushing under his tan, and finally
+changed the subject by main force. It was very pleasant, of course, to
+have this lovely creature hanging on his words, and supplementing them
+with others of her own, only too extravagantly laudatory; but a fellow
+must tell the truth; and--and after all, what was the meaning of it? She
+wouldn't look at him, three hours ago.
+
+Had they had a gay winter in Havana? he asked. He hadn't been to a dance
+for forty years. Was she fond of dancing? of course she was. What a pity
+they couldn't--here he happened to glance at Rita's black dress, and
+stopped short.
+
+"Miss Montfort, I beg your pardon! It was very stupid of me. I ran on
+without thinking. You are in mourning. What a brute I am!"
+
+The tears had gathered in Rita's eyes, but now she smiled through them.
+"It is six months since my father died," she said. "He was the kindest
+of fathers, though, alas! Spanish in his sympathies."
+
+"Your mother?" hazarded Jack, full of sympathy.
+
+"My mother died three years ago. My stepmother--" then followed the tale
+of her persecution, her escape, and subsequent adventures. Captain Jack
+was delighted with the story.
+
+"Hurrah!" he exclaimed. "That was tremendously plucky, you know, going
+off in that way. That was fine! and you got to your brother all right? I
+wonder--is he--are you any relation of Carlos Montfort? Not his sister?
+You don't mean it. Why, I was at school with Carlos, the first school I
+ever went to. An old priest kept it, in Plaza Nero. Carlos was a good
+fellow, and gave me the biggest licking once--I'm very glad we met, Miss
+Montfort. And--I don't mean to be impertinent, I'm sure you know that;
+but--what are you going to do now?"
+
+Alas! Rita did not know. "I thought I was safe here," she said. "I was
+to stay here with these good people till word came from my uncle in the
+States, or till there was a good escort that might take me to some port
+whence I could sail to New York. Now--I do not know; I begin to tremble,
+Senor Delmonte. To-day, while Donna Prudencia and I were in the forest,
+a Spanish _guerrilla_ came here, looking for me. Don Diego Moreno was in
+command. He is a friend of my stepmother's. I know him, a cold, hateful
+man. If he had found me--" she shuddered.
+
+"I know Diego Moreno, too," said Delmonte; and his brow darkened. "He is
+not fit to look at you, much less to speak to you. Never mind, Miss
+Montfort! don't be afraid; we'll manage somehow. If no better way turns
+up, I'll take you to Puerto Blanco myself. Trouble is, these fellows are
+rather down on me just now; but we'll manage somehow, never fear! Hark!
+what's that?"
+
+He leaned forward, listening intently. A faint sound was heard, hardly
+more than a breathing. Some night-bird, was it? It came from the fringe
+of forest across the road. Again it sounded, two notes, a long and a
+short one, soft and plaintive. A bird, certainly, thought Rita. She
+started as Captain Delmonte imitated the call, repeating it twice.
+
+"Juan," he said, briefly. "Reporting for orders. Here he comes!"
+
+A burly figure crossed the road in three strides. Three more brought him
+to the verandah, where he saluted and stood at attention.
+
+"Well, Juan, where are the rest of you?"
+
+"In the usual place, Senor Captain, four miles from here," said the
+orderly. "I have brought Aquila; he is here in the thicket, my own horse
+also. Will you ride to-night?"
+
+"To-morrow, at daybreak, Juan. I have promised Senora Carreno to sleep
+one night under her roof, and convince her that my foot is entirely
+well. Bring Aquila into the courtyard. All is quiet in the
+neighbourhood?"
+
+"All quiet, Senor Captain. Good; I bring Aquila and return to the troop.
+You will be with us, then, before sunrise?"
+
+"Before sunrise without fail," said Captain Jack. "_Buenos noches,
+Juanito!_"
+
+The trooper saluted again, and slipped back across the road; next moment
+he reappeared leading a long, lean, brown horse, who walked as if he
+were treading on eggshells. They passed into the courtyard and were seen
+no more, Juan making his way back to the thicket by some unseen path.
+
+"You do not stay with us through the day then, Mr. Delmonte? I am
+sorry!" said Rita.
+
+"I wish I could, indeed I do; but I must get to my fellows as soon as
+possible. I shall come back, though, in a day or two, and put myself and
+my troop at your orders, Miss Montfort. How would you like to lead a
+troop, like Madame Hernandez?" He laughed, but Rita's eyes flashed.
+
+"But I would die to do it!" she cried. "Ah! Senor Delmonte, once to
+fight for my country, and then to die--that is my ambition."
+
+"And you'd do it well, I am sure!" said Delmonte, warmly; "the fighting
+part, I mean. But nobody would let you die, Miss Montfort, it would
+spoil the prospect."
+
+He spoke lightly, for heroics embarrassed him, as they did Carlos.
+
+Soon after, Donna Prudencia appeared, with bedroom candles, and stood
+looking benevolently at the two young people.
+
+"I expect you've been having a good visit," she said. "Well, there's an
+end to all, and it's past ten o'clock, Miss Margaritty."
+
+Rita rose with some reluctance; nor did Captain Delmonte seem
+enthusiastic on the subject of going to bed.
+
+"Such a beautiful night!" he said. "Must you go, Miss Montfort? I
+mustn't keep you up, of course. Good-bye, then, for a few days! I shall
+be gone before daybreak. I'm very glad we have met."
+
+They shook hands heartily. Rita somehow did not find words so readily as
+usual. "I too am glad," she said. "It is something--I have always
+wished to meet the 'Star of Horsemen!'"
+
+"Oh, _please_ don't!" cried Jack, in distress. "That was just a joke of
+those idiots of mine. Good gracious! if you go to calling names, Miss
+Montfort, I shall not dare to come back again. Good night!"
+
+It was long before Rita could sleep. She lay with wide-open eyes,
+conjuring up one scene after another, in all of which Captain Delmonte
+played the hero's part, and she the heroine's. He was rescuing her
+single-handed from a regiment of Spaniards; they were galloping together
+at the head of a troop, driving the Gringos like sheep before them. Or,
+he was wounded on the field of battle, and she was kneeling beside him,
+holding water to his lips, and blessing the good Cuban surgeon who had
+taught her bandaging in the camp among the hills. At length, hero and
+heroine, Cuban and Spaniard, faded away, and she slept peacefully.
+
+"What is it? what is the matter?" Rita sprang up in her bed and
+listened. The sound that had awakened her was repeated: a knock at the
+door; a voice, low but imperative; the voice of Jack Delmonte.
+
+"Miss Montfort! are you awake?"
+
+"Yes; what has happened?"
+
+"The Gringos! Dress yourself quickly, and come out. You can dress in the
+dark?"
+
+"Yes; oh, yes! I will come. Manuela! wake! wake! don't speak, but dress
+yourself; the Spaniards are here."
+
+Hastily, with trembling hands, the two girls put on their clothes. No
+thought now of how or what; anything to cover them, and that quickly.
+They hurried out into the passage; Delmonte stood there, carbine in
+hand. He spoke almost in a whisper, yet every word fell clearly on their
+strained ears.
+
+"It's not Moreno; it's Velaya's _guerrilla_: we must get away before
+they fire the house. Give me your hand, Miss Montfort; you will be
+quiet, I know. Your maid?"
+
+"Manuela, you will not speak!"
+
+"No, senorita!" said poor Manuela, with a stifled sob.
+
+"My horse is ready saddled," Delmonte went on. "If I can get you away
+before they see us--"
+
+"Me! but what will become of the others?" cried Rita, under her breath.
+"I cannot desert Manuela and Marm Prudence--Donna Prudencia."
+
+"I am going to save you," said Jack Delmonte, quietly. "If for no other
+reason, I have just given my word to Donna Prudencia. The rest--I'll get
+back as soon as I can, that's all I can say. Follow me! hark!"
+
+A shot rang out; another, and another. A hubbub of voices rose within
+and without the house; and at the same instant a bright light sprang up,
+and they saw each other's faces.
+
+Delmonte ground his teeth. "Wait!" he said; and going a little way along
+the passage, he peered from a window. The verandah swarmed with armed
+men. The door was locked and barred, but they were smashing the
+window-shutters with the butts of their carbines. He glanced along the
+passage. Inside the door stood Don Annunzio, in his vast white pajamas,
+firing composedly through a wicket; beside him his wife, as quietly
+loading and handing him the weapons. Behind them huddled the few house
+and farm servants, negroes for the most part, but among them was one
+intelligent-looking young Creole. Singling him out, Delmonte led him
+apart, and pointed to Manuela. "Your sister!" he said. "Your life for
+hers."
+
+The youth nodded, and beckoned the frightened girl to stand beside him.
+Rita saw no more, for Delmonte, grasping her hand firmly, led her
+through the winding passage and into the inner courtyard. Pausing a
+moment on the verandah, they looked through the archway at one side,
+through which streamed a red glare. The cane patch was on fire, and
+blazing fiercely. The flames tossed and leaped, and in front of them men
+were running with torches, setting fire to sheds and out-houses. Their
+shouts, the crackling and hissing of the flames, the shots and cries
+from the front of the house, turned the quiet night wild with horror. A
+crash behind them told that the front door had yielded.
+
+"It's run for it, now!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Now, then,
+child,--quick!"
+
+A few steps, and they were beside the brown horse, standing saddled and
+bridled, and already quivering and straining to be off. Delmonte lifted
+Rita in his arms,--no time now for courtly mounting,--then sprang to the
+saddle before her. He spoke to the horse, who stood trembling, but made
+no motion to advance.
+
+"Aquila, softly past the gate--then for life! good boy! Miss Montfort,
+put your arms around me, and hold fast. Don't let go unless I drop; then
+try to catch the reins, and give him his head. He knows the way."
+
+Softly, slowly, Aquila crept to the archway. He might have been shod
+with velvet for any sound he made. Could they get away unseen? The men
+with the torches were busy at their horrid work; they could not be seen
+yet from the front of the house. The horse crept forward, silent as a
+phantom. They were clear of the archway. "Now!" whispered Delmonte. "For
+life, Aquila!" and Aquila went, for life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FOR LIFE.
+
+
+"If we can put the fire between us and them," said Captain Jack, "we
+shall get off."
+
+For a moment it seemed as if they might do it. Already they saw the road
+before them, the sand glowing red in the firelight. A few more
+strides--Just then, a Spanish soldier came running round the corner of
+the burning cane-patch, whirling his blazing torch. He saw them, and
+raised a shout. "_Alerta! alerta!_ fugitives! after them! shoot down the
+Mambi dogs!"
+
+There was a rush to the corner where a score of horses stood tethered to
+the fence. A dozen men leaped into the saddle and came thundering in
+pursuit. Aquila gave one glance back; then stretched his long lean
+neck, and settled into a gallop.
+
+Before them the road lay straight for some distance, red here in the
+crimson light, further on white under a late moon. On one side the woods
+rose black and still, on the other lay open fields crossed here and
+there by barbed wire fences. No living creature was to be seen on the
+road. No sound was heard save the muffled beat of the horse's hoofs on
+the sand, and behind, the shouts and cries of their pursuers. Were they
+growing louder, those shouts? Were they gaining, or was the distance
+between them widening? Rita turned her head once to look back. "I
+wouldn't do that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Do you mind, Miss Montfort,
+if I swing you round in front of me? Don't be alarmed, Aquila is all
+right."
+
+Before Rita could speak, he had dropped the reins on the horse's neck,
+and lifted her bodily round to the peak of the saddle before him. "I'm
+sorry!" he said, apologetically. "I fear it is very uncomfortable;
+but--I can--a--manage better, don't you see?" But to himself he was
+saying, "Lucky I got that done before the beggars began to shoot. Now
+they may fire all they like. Stupid duffer I was, not to start right."
+
+He had felt the girl's light figure quiver as he lifted her.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Miss Montfort," he said again. "There isn't a
+horse in the country that can touch Aquila when he is roused."
+
+"I am not frightened," said Rita. "I am--excited, I suppose. It is like
+riding on wind, isn't it?"
+
+It was true that she felt no fear; neither did she realise the peril of
+their position. It was one of the dreams come true, that was all. She
+was riding with Delmonte, with the Star of Horsemen. He was saving her
+life. They had ridden so before, often and often; only now--
+
+_Pah!_ a short, sharp report was heard, and a little dust whiffed up on
+the road beside them. _Pah! pah!_ another puff of dust, and splinters
+flew from a tree just beyond them. Aquila twitched his ears and
+stretched his long neck, and they felt the stride quicken under them.
+The road rushed by; they were half-way to the turn.
+
+"Would you like to hold the reins for a bit?" asked Delmonte. "It isn't
+really necessary, but--thanks! that's very nice."
+
+What was he doing? He had turned half round in the saddle; something
+touched her hair--the butt of his carbine. "I _beg_ your pardon!" said
+Captain Jack. "I am very clumsy, I fear."
+
+_Crack!_ went the carbine. Rita's ears rang with the noise; she held the
+reins mechanically, only half-conscious of herself. _Pah! pah!_ and
+again _crack!_ The blue rifle-smoke was in her eyes and nostrils, the
+Mauser bullets pattered like hail on the road; and still Aquila galloped
+on, never turning his head, never slackening his mighty stride, and
+still the road rushed by, and the turn by the hill grew nearer--nearer--
+
+_Pah!_ Rita felt her companion wince. His left arm relaxed its hold and
+dropped at his side. With his right hand he carefully replaced his
+carbine in its sling.
+
+"For life, Aquila!" he said softly, in Spanish; and once more Aquila
+gathered his great limbs under him, and once more the terrible pace
+quickened.
+
+A stone? a hole in the road? who knows? In a moment they were all down,
+horse and riders flung in a heap together. The horse struggled to his
+knees, then fell again. He screamed, an agonising sound, that in Rita's
+excited mind seemed to mingle with the smoke and the dust in a cloud of
+horror. Every moment she expected to feel the iron hoofs crashing into
+her, as the frenzied creature struggled to regain his footing.
+
+Delmonte had sprung clear, and in an instant he was at Rita's side,
+raising her. "You are hurt? no? good! keep behind me, please."
+
+He went to the horse, and tried to lift him, bent to examine him, and
+then shook his head. Aquila would not rise again; his leg was shattered.
+Delmonte straightened himself and looked about him. If this had happened
+a hundred, fifty yards back! but now the woods were gone, and on either
+hand stretched a bare savannah, broken only by the hateful barbed wire
+fences. He drew his revolver quietly. The healthy brown of his face had
+gone gray; his eyes were like blue steel. He looked at Rita, and met her
+eyes fixed on him in a mute anguish of entreaty.
+
+"Have no fear!" he said. "It shall be as it would with my own sister. I
+know these men; they shall not touch you alive."
+
+He bent once more over the struggling beast, and even in his agony
+Aquila knew his master, and turned his eyes lovingly toward him,
+expecting help; and help came.
+
+"Good-bye, lad!" The pistol cracked, and the tortured limbs sank into
+quiet.
+
+"Lie down behind him!" Delmonte commanded. "So! now, still."
+
+He knelt behind the dead horse, facing the advancing Spaniards. The
+revolver cracked again, and the foremost horseman dropped, shot through
+the head. The troop was now close upon them; Rita could see the fierce
+faces, and the gleam of their wolfish teeth. Delmonte fired again, and
+another man dropped, but still the rest came on. There was no help,
+then?
+
+Delmonte looked at Rita; she closed her eyes, expecting death. The air
+was full of cries and curses. But--what other sound was that? Not from
+before, but behind them--round the turn of the road--some one was
+singing! In all the hurry of her flying thoughts Rita steadied herself
+to listen.
+
+        "For it's whoop-la! whoop!
+         Git along, my little dogies;
+         For Wyoming shall be your new home!--
+
+"What in the Rockies is going on here, anyhow?"
+
+Rita turned her head. A horseman had come around the bend, and checked
+his horse, looking at the scene before him. A giant rider on a giant
+horse. The moon shone on his brown uniform, his slouched felt hat, and
+the carbine laid across his saddle-bow. Under the slouched hat looked
+out a bronzed face, grim and bearded, lighted by eyes blue as Delmonte's
+own.
+
+Rita gave one glance. "Help!" she cried, "America, help!"
+
+"America's the place!" said the horseman. He waved his hand to some one
+behind him, then put his horse to the gallop. Next instant he was beside
+them.
+
+Delmonte started to his feet, revolver in hand. "U. S. A.?" he said.
+"You're just in time, uncle. I'm glad to see you."
+
+"Always like to be on time at a party," said the rough rider, levelling
+his carbine. "My fellows are--in short, here they are!"
+
+There was a scurry of hoofs, a shout, and thirty horsemen swept around
+the curve and came racing up.
+
+"What's up, Cap'n Jim?" cried one. "Have we lost the fun? Gringos, eh?
+hooray!"
+
+The Spaniards had checked their horses. Four of them lay dead in the
+road, and several others were wounded. At sight of the mounted troop,
+they stopped and held a hurried consultation, then turned their horses
+and rode away.
+
+The giant looked at Delmonte. "Want to follow?" he asked. "This is your
+hand, comrade."
+
+"I want a horse!" said Captain Jack. "Miss Montfort,"--he turned to
+Rita, who had risen to her feet, and stood pale but quiet,--"these are
+our own good country-men. If I leave you with them but a few moments--"
+
+"Hold on!" said the big man. "What did you call the young lady?"
+
+Delmonte stared. "This is Miss Montfort," he said, rather formally.
+
+"Not Rita!" cried the giant. "Pike's Peak and Glory Gulch! Don't tell me
+it's Rita!"
+
+"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Rita, running forward with outstretched hands. "It
+is--I am! and you--oh, I know, I know. You are Peggy's big brother. You
+are Cousin Jim!"
+
+"That's what they said when they christened me!" said Cousin Jim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+MEETINGS AND GREETINGS.
+
+
+It was no time for explanations. Jim Montfort put out a hand like a pine
+knot, and gave Rita's fingers a huge shake.
+
+"Glad to find you, cousin," he said. "I've been looking for you. Now,
+what's up over there?" He nodded in the direction of the fire.
+
+"A _candela_," said Delmonte, briefly. "I must get back; there are women
+there. If one of your men will catch me that horse--"
+
+"But you are wounded!" cried Rita. "Cousin, he is shot in the arm. Do
+not let him go!"
+
+Delmonte laughed. "It's nothing, Miss Montfort," he said; "but nothing
+at all, I assure you. When we get to camp you shall put some carbolic
+acid on it, and tie it up for me; that's field practice in Cuba. I shall
+be proud to be your first field patient." He spoke in his usual laughing
+way; but suddenly his face changed, and he leaned toward her swiftly,
+his hand on the horse's mane. "I shall never forget this time--our ride
+together," he said. "I hope you will not forget either--please? And now,
+Miss Montfort, I have no further right over you. I would have done my
+best, I think you know that; but--I must give you into your cousin's
+protection. You will remain here?"
+
+"Of course she will!" said Cousin Jim, who had heard only the last
+words. "I'll go with you, comrade. Raynham, Morton, you will mount guard
+by the lady."
+
+The troopers saluted, and raised their hats civilly to Rita, inwardly
+cursing their luck. Because they owned the next ranch to Jim Montfort,
+was that any reason why they should lose all the fun? and why could not
+girls stay at home where they belonged?
+
+But Rita herself cried out and clasped her hands, and ran to her cousin.
+"Oh, Cousin Jim--Senor Delmonte--let me go with you! Please, please let
+me go back. My poor Manuela--Marm Prudence--they may be hurt, wounded.
+There can be no danger with all these brave men. Cousin, I have been in
+a camp hospital, I know how to dress wounds. I can be quiet--Senor
+Delmonte, tell him I can be quiet!"
+
+She looked eagerly at Delmonte.
+
+"I can tell him that you are the bravest girl I ever saw," he said.
+"But, you have been through a great deal. I don't like to have you go
+back among those rascals."
+
+James Montfort stroked his brown beard thoughtfully.
+
+"Guess it's safe enough," he said at last. "Guess there's enough of us
+to handle 'em. Don't know but on the whole she'll be better off with
+us. My sister Peggy wouldn't like to miss any circus there was going,
+would she, little girl? Catch another of those beasts for the lady,
+Bill!"
+
+Rita, with one of her quick gestures, caught his great hand in both
+hers. "Oh, you good cousin!" she cried. "You dear cousin! You are the
+very best and the very biggest person in the world, and I love you."
+
+"Well, well, well!" said Cousin Jim, somewhat embarrassed. "There,
+there! so you shall, my dear; so you shall. But as for being big, you
+should see Lanky 'Liph of Bone Gulch. Now there--but here is your horse,
+missy."
+
+The horses of the dead Spaniards had been circling about them, more or
+less shyly. Two of them were quickly caught by the rough riders, and
+Rita and Delmonte mounted. As they did so, both glanced toward the spot
+where lay the brave horse that had borne them so well.
+
+"It was for life indeed, Aquila!" said Captain Jack, softly. His eyes
+met Rita's, and she saw the brightness of tears in them. Next moment
+they were galloping back to the _residencia_.
+
+They came only just in time. Not ten minutes had passed since they left
+the courtyard, but in that time the savage Spaniards had done their work
+well. The house itself was in flames, and burning fiercely. Good Don
+Annunzio lay dead, carbine in hand, on the steps of his ruined home.
+Beside him lay the Creole youth in whose charge Delmonte had left
+Manuela. The lad was still alive, for as Delmonte bent from the saddle
+above him he raised his head.
+
+"I did my best, my captain!" he said. "They were too many."
+
+"Where are they?" asked Delmonte and Montfort in one breath.
+
+The boy pointed down the road; raised his hand to salute, and fell back,
+dead.
+
+[Illustration: "NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FOR LIFE."]
+
+Now again it was a ride for life--not their own life this time. Rita had
+clean forgotten herself. The thought of her faithful friend and servant
+in the hands of the merciless Spaniards turned her quick blood to fire.
+She galloped steadily, her eyes fixed on the cloud of dust only a few
+hundred yards ahead of them, which told where the enemy was galloping,
+too.
+
+Jim Montfort glanced at her, and nodded to himself. "She'll do!" he said
+in his beard. "Montfort grit's good grit, and she's got it. This would
+be nuts to little Peggy."
+
+Jack Delmonte, too, looked more than once at the slender figure riding
+so lightly between him and the big rough rider. How beautiful she was!
+He had not realised half how beautiful till now. What nerve! what
+steadiness! It might be the _Reina de Cuba_, Donna Hernandez herself,
+riding to victory.
+
+He felt an unreasonable jealousy of "Cousin Jim." Half--nay! a quarter
+of an hour ago, she was riding with him; there were only they two in
+the world, they and Aquila, poor Aquila,--who had given his life for
+theirs. She was his comrade then, his charge, his--and now she was Miss
+Montfort, a young lady of fortune and position, under charge of her
+cousin, a Yankee captain of rough riders; and he, Jack Delmonte,
+was--nothing in particular.
+
+As he was thinking these thoughts, Rita chanced to turn her head, and
+met his gaze fixed earnestly upon her. She blushed suddenly and deeply,
+the lovely colour rising in a wave over cheeks and forehead; then turned
+her head sharply away.
+
+"Now I have offended her!" said Jack. "Idiot!" and perhaps he was not
+very wise.
+
+But there was little time for thinking or blushing. The Spaniards,
+seeing Delmonte, whom they regarded as the devil in person, descending
+upon them in company with a giant and an army (for so they described
+the band of rough riders at headquarters next day), abandoned their
+prisoners. The Americans chased them for a mile or so, killed three or
+four, and, as they reported, "scared the rest into Kingdom Come,"
+leaving them only on coming to a thick wood, into which the Gringos,
+leaping from their horses, vanished, and were seen no more. The victors
+then returned to the forlorn little group of women and negroes, huddled
+together by the roadside. Rita had already dismounted, and had Manuela
+in her arms. She felt her all over, hurrying question upon question.
+
+"My child, you are not hurt? not wounded? these ruffians--did they dare
+to touch you? did they have the audacity to speak to you, Manuela? Oh,
+why did I leave you? I could not help it; you saw I could not help it.
+You are _sure_ you have no hurt?"
+
+"But, positively, senorita," said Manuela. "See! not a scratch is on me.
+They--one fellow--offered to tie my hands; I scratched him so well that
+he ran away. I am safe, safe--praise be to all saints, to our Holy Lady,
+and the Senor Delmonte. But--poor Cerito, senorita? what of him? he was
+with us; he fought like a lion. I saw him fall--"
+
+"Poor Cerito!" said Rita, gravely. "He was a brave, brave lad. A
+thousand sons to Cuba like him!"
+
+Donna Prudencia was sitting apart on a stone by the roadside. Rita went
+up to her, took her hand, and kissed her cheek. The Yankee woman looked
+kindly at her and nodded comprehension, but did not speak. Rita stood
+silent for a few minutes, timidly stroking the brown cheek and white
+hair. Her cousin Margaret came into her mind. What would Margaret say,
+if she were here? She would know the right word, she always did.
+
+"Marm Prudence," she said, presently, "to have the memory of a hero, of
+one who dies for his country,--that is something, is it not? some
+little comfort?"
+
+Marm Prudence did not answer at once.
+
+"Mebbe so," she said, presently. "Mebbe so, Miss Margaritty. Noonzio was
+a good man. Yes'm, I've lost a good husband and a good home! A good
+husband and a good home!" she repeated. "That's all there is to it, I
+expect." Her rugged face was disturbed for a moment, and she hid it in
+her hands; when she looked up, she was her own composed self.
+
+"And what's the next thing?" she asked. "Thank you, Cap'n Delmonty, I'm
+feeling first-rate. Don't you fret about me. You done all you could.
+I'll never forget what you done. Poor husband's last words before he was
+shot was thanking the Lord Miss Margaritty was off safe. We knew we
+could trust her with you."
+
+"Indeed," said honest Delmonte, "it is not me you must thank, Donna
+Prudencia. I did what I could, but it was Captain Montfort and his men
+who saved both her life and mine."
+
+He told the story briefly, and Marm Prudence listened with interest.
+"Well," she said, "that was pretty close, wasn't it? Anyway, you done
+all you could, Cap'n Jack, and nobody can't do no more. And he's Miss
+Margaritty's cousin, you say? I want to know! He's big enough for three,
+ain't he?"
+
+Rita laughed, in spite of herself. She beckoned to Cousin Jim, who came
+up and shook hands with the widow with grave sympathy. But he seemed
+preoccupied, and, while they were preparing to return to the ruined
+farm, he was pulling his big beard and meditating with a puzzled air.
+
+"Look here!" he broke out at last, addressing his men. "I've been
+wondering what was wrong. I couldn't seem to round up, somehow, and now
+I've got it. Where's that poor old Johnny? I left him with you when I
+rode forward to reconnoitre."
+
+The rough riders looked at one another, and hung their heads.
+
+"Guess he must have dropped behind," said Raynham. "We didn't wait long
+after you signalled to us to come on. We--came."
+
+"That's so!" clamoured the rough riders, in sheepish chorus. "We came,
+Cap'n Jim. That's a fact!"
+
+"Well--that's all right!" said Jim. "You might have brought the old
+Johnny along, though, seems to me. Two of you ride back and get him;
+you, Bill, and Juckins. If he seems used up, Juckins can carry him, pony
+and all."
+
+Juckins, a huge Californian, second only to Montfort in stature,
+chuckled, and rode off with Raynham at a hand gallop.
+
+Montfort turned to Rita.
+
+"I haven't had time to tell you about it before," he said. "Cousin Rita,
+I've been hunting for you for three days. We met an old Johnny--an old
+gentleman, I should say--riding about on a pony, for all the world like
+Yankee Doodle. He'd got lost, poor old duffer, among these inferior
+crossroads, and didn't know whether he was in China or Oklahoma. We
+picked him up, and, riding along, it came out that he was searching for
+his ward, a young lady who had run away from a convent. Ever heard of
+such a person, missy? He had started out alone, to ride about Cuba till
+he found her. Kind of pocket Don Quixote, about five foot high, white
+hair, silk clothes; highly respectable Johnny."
+
+"Don Miguel!" cried Rita. "Poor, dear, good Don Miguel! I have never
+written to him, wicked that I am. Oh, where is he, Cousin Jim?"
+
+"Come to ask him," Jim continued, "it appeared that the young lady's
+name was Montfort. Now, I had just had a letter from Uncle John,
+wanting me to raise the island to get hold of you and ship you North at
+once. He had had no letters; was alarmed, you understand. Laid up with a
+bad knee, or would have come himself. I was just going to start back to
+the city in search of you, when up comes Don Quixote. When he heard I
+was your cousin, he fell into my arms, pony and all. Give you my word he
+did! Almost lost him in my waistcoat pocket. I cheered him up a bit, and
+we've been poking about together these three days, looking for General
+Sevillo's camp. Thought you might be there. We were camping by the
+roadside when we heard your firing. Ah! here he comes now!"
+
+The rough riders came back, their horses trotting now, instead of
+galloping. Between them, ambling gently along, was a piebald pony of
+amiable appearance, and on the pony sat a little old gentleman with
+snow-white hair and a face as mild and gentle as the pony's own. At
+sight of Rita running to meet him, he uttered a cry of joy, and checked
+his horse. Next moment he had dismounted, and had her in his arms,
+sobbing like a child.
+
+"Dear Donito Miguelito!" cried Rita. "Forgive me! please do forgive me,
+for frightening you. I could not go to the convent, indeed I could not.
+I am a wretch to have treated you so, but I could not go to that place."
+
+"Of course you could not, my child," said the good old man. "_Nunc
+dimittis_, Domine! Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. Of
+course you could not."
+
+"I could not live with Concepcion; don't you know I could not, Donito
+Miguelito?"
+
+"The thought is impossible, my Pearl. Speaking with all possible
+respect, the Senora Montfort, though high-born and accomplished, is a
+hysterical wildcat. You did well, my child; you did extremely well. So
+long as I have found you, nothing matters; but, nothing at all. As my
+great, my gigantic friend, my colossal preserver, el Capitan Gimmo,
+says, 'Ourrah for oz!'"
+
+"Hurrah!" shouted the rough riders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ANOTHER CAMP.
+
+
+They made but a brief halt at the ruined farm. The house was completely
+gutted; the widow of Don Annunzio had the clothes she stood in, and
+nothing beside. She stood quietly by while her husband's body was laid
+in the grave beside that of young Cerito; a shallow grave, hastily dug
+in what had lately been the garden. She listened with the same quiet
+face while good old Don Miguel, with faltering voice, recited a Latin
+prayer. She was a Methodist, he a fervent Catholic; but it mattered
+little at that moment.
+
+By this time it was daylight. A small patch of bananas was found, that
+had escaped the destroying torch, and on these the party made a hasty
+meal; then they rode away, all save the negroes, who preferred to stay
+in the neighbourhood where their lives had been spent.
+
+They rode slowly, in deference to Don Miguel's age and that of his pony.
+Rita, riding beside the good old man, listened to the recital of his
+terrors and anxieties from the time her flight was discovered to the
+present moment. These caused her real grief, and she begged again and
+again for the forgiveness which he assured her was wholly unnecessary.
+But when he described the hysterical rage of her stepmother, her eyes
+brightened, and the colour came back to her pale cheek. She had no doubt
+that Concepcion Montfort was sorry to lose her; the larger part of her
+father's fortune had been settled upon her, Rita, before his second
+marriage.
+
+"The senora also has made diligent search for you, my child!" said Don
+Miguel. "She has offered ample rewards--"
+
+"I know it!" said Rita. "Only yesterday--can it be that it was only
+yesterday?--Don Diego Moreno was here--there, I should say, at that
+peaceful home that is now a heap of ashes. These Spaniards!"
+
+Had she seen Don Diego? the old man asked; and he seemed relieved when
+she answered in the negative.
+
+"It is well; it is well!" he said. "He is a relative of the senora's, I
+am aware; but it would have been unsuitable, most unsuitable."
+
+"What would have been unsuitable, Donito Miguelito?"
+
+Don Miguel looked confused. "A--nothing, my child. The Senora Montfort
+had an idea--Don Diego made certain advances--in short, he would have
+asked for your hand, my senorita--well, my Margarita, if you will have
+it so. But I took it upon myself to refuse these overtures without
+consulting you."
+
+Rita heard a low exclamation, and turning, saw Delmonte's face like
+dark fire beside her.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I could not help hearing. Don Miguel, if
+Diego Moreno makes any more such proposals, kindly let me know, and I'll
+shoot him at sight."
+
+"I--thank you! thank you, my son!" said Don Miguel, somewhat fluttered.
+"I hope no violence will be necessary. I used strong language, very
+strong language, to Don Diego Moreno. I--I told him that I considered
+him a person entirely objectionable, unfit to sweep the road before the
+Senorita Montfort's feet. He went away very angry. I thought we should
+hear no more of him; but it seems that he still retains his presumptuous
+idea. Without doubt, it will be best, my dear child, for you to seek the
+northern home of your family without delay."
+
+Why, at this obviously sensible remark, should Rita feel a sinking at
+the heart, and a sudden anger against her dear old friend? And again,
+why, on stealing a glance at Delmonte, and seeing the trouble reflected
+in his face, should her heart as suddenly spring up again, and dance
+within her? What had happened?
+
+They had ridden some miles, when Jim Montfort, on his big gray horse,
+ranged alongside of Delmonte.
+
+"It appears to me," he said, "that something is going on in these woods
+here. I've seen two or three bits of brown that weren't bark, and if I
+didn't catch the shine of a gun-barrel just now, you may call me a
+Dutchman. I think I'll fire, and see what happens."
+
+"No, don't do that!" said Delmonte, quietly. "It's only my fellows.
+They've been keeping alongside for the last half-mile, waiting for a
+signal. They might as well come out now."
+
+He gave a low call in two notes; the call Rita had heard--was it only
+the night before? it seemed as if a week had passed since then.
+
+The call was answered from the wood; and as if by magic, from every
+tree, from every clump of bushes, came stealing lean brown figures,
+leading equally lean horses, all armed and on the alert. They saluted,
+and, at a word from the burly Juan, fell into order with the precision
+of a troop on drill.
+
+"What's all this, Juan?" asked Delmonte. "No order was given."
+
+Juan replied with submission that a negro boy had brought news an hour
+ago that Don Annunzio's house had been burned, he and his whole
+household murdered, and their captain taken prisoner; and that the
+latter was being brought in irons along the road to Santiago. They, Juan
+and the rest, had planned a rescue, and disposed themselves to that end
+in the most advantageous manner. That they were about to fire, when they
+recognised their captain's escort as Americans; and that they then
+resolved to accompany the party as quietly as might be till they came
+near the camp, and then make their presence known to all, as they had at
+once made it known to Delmonte himself by a low call which only he had
+noticed.
+
+"Not wishing to intrude," Juan concluded, with a superb salute.
+
+Delmonte turned to his companions. "Miss Montfort," he said, "Captain
+Montfort--you'll all come up to my place, of course, and rest, for
+to-day, at least. It isn't much of a place to ask you to, but--it's
+quiet, at least, and--you can rest; and you must be half-starved. I know
+I am."
+
+His face was eager as a boy's. Rita's was not less so, as she gazed at
+the big cousin, who stroked his beard as usual, and reflected.
+
+"I did mean to push straight on to Santiago," he said, "but--it's a good
+bit of a way, to be sure; what do you say, little cousin? tired? hey?"
+
+Rita blushed. "A--a little tired, Cousin Jim; and _very_ hungry!"
+
+This settled it. Captain Montfort bid Delmonte "fire away." The latter
+said a few rapid words to Juan, and the scout shot off like an arrow
+across the fields, riding as if for his life.
+
+An hour later, the whole party was seated around a fire, in as
+comfortable a nook of the hills as guerilla leader could desire, sipping
+coffee, and eating broiled chicken and fried bananas, fresh from the
+_parilla_. The fire was built against a great rock that rose abruptly
+from the dell, forming one side of it, and towering so high that the
+smoke disappeared before it reached the top. Thick woods framed the
+other sides of the natural fastness, and here the Cuban riders could lie
+hidden for days and weeks, unsuspected, unseen, save by the wandering
+birds that now and then circled above their heads. No tents or huts
+here; the horses were tethered to trees; the commander's hammock was
+swung in a shady thicket near the great rock; as for his men, a ragged
+blanket and the "soft side of a stone" were all they asked.
+
+Rita had dressed Captain Delmonte's wound, and bandaged the arm in
+approved style, Cousin Jim looking on with grunts of approval. He and
+Delmonte himself both assured her that, if they were handling it, they
+should simply squirt carbolic acid into it, and tie it up with anything
+that came handy; but Rita shook her head gravely, and three of her
+delicate handkerchiefs, brought from the long-suffering bag which
+Manuela had somehow managed to save from the ruins, torn into strips,
+made a very sufficient bandage. The wound was, in truth, slight.
+Delmonte looked almost as if he wished it more severe, for the whole
+matter of bathing and dressing could not be stretched beyond ten
+minutes; but Rita's pride in her neat bandage was pretty to see, and he
+watched her with delighted eyes through every stage.
+
+"Snug quarters!" said Jim Montfort, approvingly, as, the breakfast over,
+he stretched his huge length along the grass and looked about him; and
+all the party echoed his opinion. The two captains fell into talk of the
+war and its ways, while the women, wearied out, rested after their long
+night of distress and fatigue. Marm Prudence chose the dry grass, with a
+cloak for a pillow, but Rita curled herself thankfully in Captain Jack's
+hammock, after trying in vain to persuade him that he was an invalid,
+and ought to take it himself. After some rummaging in a hole in the rock
+which served him for cupboard and wardrobe, Delmonte brought her a small
+pillow in a somewhat weather-beaten cover. "I wish I had a better one,"
+he said. "This has been out in the rain a good deal, and I'm afraid it
+smells of smoke, but it's a great pillow for sleeping on."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Rita. "It is very comfortable indeed. How good you
+are to me, Captain Delmonte. And whatever you may say, it is a great
+shame for me to take your own hammock. If there were only another--"
+
+"Oh, please don't!" said Jack. "It's really--you must not talk so, Miss
+Montfort. As if there was anything I wouldn't do--why, this hammock will
+never be the same again. I--I mean--oh, you know what I mean, and I
+never could make pretty speeches. But--it is a pleasure, and--an honour,
+to have you here; and you can't think how much it means to me. Good
+night! I mean--sleep well."
+
+He added a few words of a German song relative to the desirability of a
+certain lovely angel's slumbering sweetly. Rita did not understand
+German, but the tone of Delmonte's voice was in no particular language,
+and, tired as she was, it was some time before she went to sleep.
+
+It was late afternoon when they took the road again. Before starting
+they held a council, seated together beneath the great tree, under whose
+shade Rita had slept peacefully for several hours. Jim Montfort was the
+first speaker.
+
+"I take it," he said, "we'd better, each one of us, say what we mean to
+do. Then the sky will be clear, and we can fit in or shake apart, as
+seems best in each case. We all ride together to Pine del Rio, as
+Captain Delmonte is so friendly as to ride with us. After that--I'll
+begin with you, ma'am." He addressed, the widow respectfully. "How can I
+best serve you? I am going to see my cousin safe off, and you must call
+upon me for any service I can possibly render you."
+
+"She will stay with me!" cried Rita. "Dear Marm Prudence, you will stay
+with me, will you not?"
+
+Marm Prudence shook her head, though with a look of infinite kindliness.
+"Thank you, dear," she said; "it's like you to say it, but I'm going
+home to Greenvale, Vermont. I've a sister living there yet. I'll go back
+to my own folks at last, and lay my bones alongside o' mother's. I'll
+never forgit you, though, Miss Margaritty," she added, "nor you, Cap'n
+Jack. There! I can't say much yet."
+
+She turned away, and all were silent for a moment, as she wiped the
+tears from her rugged face.
+
+"You go straight home, I suppose, sir?" said Jim, addressing Don Miguel.
+
+"Yes, yes!" cried the little gentleman. "I go to Pine del Rio with my
+dear ward here. To see her safe on board a good vessel, bound for the
+North; to say farewell to the joy of my old days, and put out the light
+of my eyes--that is my one sad desire, Senor Montfort. After that--I am
+old, I have but a short time left, and my prayers will require that."
+
+"Well, then, it seems as if the first thing on all hands was to find a
+steamer sailing for home," said Jim. "If Mrs. Annunzio will take charge
+of you, Cousin Rita, I think that will be the best thing. Uncle John
+will send some one to meet you in New York and take you to Fernley. How
+does that suit you?"
+
+Rita was silent. She had grown very pale. Delmonte looked at her
+eagerly, but did not speak.
+
+"What do you say, little cousin?" repeated Montfort. "You have a mind of
+your own, and a pretty decided one, if I'm not mistaken. Let's hear it!"
+
+Rita spoke slowly and with difficulty, her ready flow of speech lacking
+for once.
+
+"Cousin Jim--dear Don Miguel--you are both so kind, so good. You too,
+Marm Prudence. I love the North. I love my dear uncle and cousin--ah,
+how dearly!--but--I do not want to go to Fernley."
+
+"Not want to go!" repeated the others.
+
+"No! indeed, indeed, I cannot go. I have been thinking, Cousin Jim, a
+great deal, while all these things have been happening; these wonderful,
+terrible things. I--I ought to have learned a great deal; I hope I have
+learned a little. I have talked enough about helping my country; too
+much I have talked; now I want to do something. I am going to work in
+one of the hospitals. Nurses are needed, I know, every day more of them.
+I do not know enough--yet--to be a nurse, but I can be a helper. I am
+very humble; I will do the meanest work, but--but that is what I mean to
+do."
+
+She ceased, and all the others, looking in her face, saw it bright and
+lovely with earnest resolve. But Don Miguel cried out in expostulation.
+It was impossible, he said. It could not be. She was too young, too
+delicate, too--the proposition was monstrous. He appealed to Captain
+Montfort to support him, to exercise his authority, to persuade this
+dear child that the noble idea which filled her young and ardent heart
+was wholly impracticable.
+
+Jim Montfort was silent for a time, looking at Rita from under his heavy
+eyebrows. Presently--"You mean it?" he said.
+
+"I mean it with all my heart!" said Rita.
+
+"Well," said Jim, "my opinion is--considering my sister Peggy and her
+views, to say nothing of Jean and Flora--my opinion is, Rita--hurrah for
+you!"
+
+A month ago, Rita would have gone into violent heroics at such a moment
+as this. As it was, she smiled, though her eyes filled with tears, and
+said, quietly, "Thank you, cousin! It is what I expected from Peggy's
+brother."
+
+"May I speak?" said another voice. They turned, and saw Jack Delmonte,
+his blue eyes alight with eager gladness.
+
+"If--if Miss Montfort has this noble desire to help in the good cause,"
+he said, "it is easy for her to do it. My mother has turned her
+_residencia_, just outside the city, into a hospital. I am going there
+to-day. She needs more help, I know. You--you would like my mother, Miss
+Montfort; everybody likes my mother. She would do all she could to make
+it easy for you, and she would be so glad--oh, I can't tell you how glad
+she would be. And I think you are quite certain to like her."
+
+"Ah!" said Rita. "Have I not heard of the Saint of Las Rosas? There is
+no need to tell me how good and how noble the Senora Delmonte is.
+But--but will she like me, Captain--Captain Jack?"
+
+"Will she?" said Jack. "Will the sun shine?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.
+
+
+                                            LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+DEAR UNCLE JOHN:--Since I last wrote you, telling of our finding Rita,
+and of her safe delivery to Senora Delmonte, things have been happening.
+In the first place, I got a shot in my leg, in a skirmish, and, as the
+bone was broken, and it didn't seem to come round as it ought, I came
+here to be coddled, and am having a great time of it. Senora Delmonte is
+a fine woman, sir. You don't see many such women in a lifetime. She has
+a little hospital here, as complete as if she had New York City in her
+back dooryard; all her own place, you understand. Kind of Florence
+Nightingale woman. What's more, little Rita promises to become her
+right hand; if she's given a chance, that is--I'll come to that by and
+by, though. The way that little girl takes hold, sir, is a caution.
+She's quick, and she's quiet, and she's cheerful; and she has brains in
+her head, which is a mighty good thing in a woman when you do find it.
+She and Senora Delmonte are like mother and daughter already; and this
+brings me to something else I want to say. It's pretty clear that Jack
+Delmonte has lost his heart to this little girl of ours. It began, I
+suspect, the night he carried her off from the Spaniards; you have heard
+all about that; and it's been going on here, while a little flesh wound
+he had was healing. Yes, sir, he's in it deep, and no mistake; and, for
+that matter, I guess she is, too, though those things aren't in my line.
+Anyhow, what I want to say is this: Jack Delmonte is as fine a fellow as
+there is this side of the Rockies; and I don't know that I'll stop
+there, barring my brother Hugh. This war isn't going to last much
+longer. By some kind of miracle, this place--sugar plantation, and well
+paying in good times--hasn't been meddled with; and Jack ought to be
+able to support a wife, if he puts good work into the business, as he
+will. He's a first-rate all-round fellow, and has brains in his
+head--said that before, didn't I? well, it's a good thing in a man, too.
+I'm not much of a hand at writing, as I guess you'll see. All I mean to
+say is, if he and little Rita want to hitch up a double team, my opinion
+is it would be a mighty good thing, and I hope you'll give them your
+blessing and all that sort of thing, when the time comes.
+
+Much obliged for your letter, but sorry your knee still bothers you.
+Father has been laid up, too, so he writes; rheumatism. I'm getting on
+first-rate, and shall be out of this soon. I think a month or so more
+will see the whole blooming business over, and peace declared. Time,
+too! this is no kind of a country to stay in.
+
+                                   Your affectionate nephew,
+                                                   JAMES MONTFORT.
+
+P.S. Tell Cousin Margaret that J. D. is _all right_.
+
+                                           LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+MY DEAR MR. MONTFORT:--I wonder if you remember Mary Russell, with whom
+you used to dance now and then when you came to Claxton in the old days,
+we will not say how many years ago. I certainly have not forgotten the
+pleasant partner who waltzed so well, and I am glad to have the
+opportunity of claiming acquaintance with you. I meant to write as soon
+as your niece arrived at my house, but the battle in this neighbourhood
+the day after brought us such an influx of wounded that my hands were
+very full, and the hasty dictated line was all I could manage. We are
+now in a little eddy of the storm (which, we hope, is nearly over), and
+have only a dozen men in the house, and most of these convalescent;
+so I must not delay longer in assuring you of the very great pleasure
+and help it has been to me to have Margarita with me. Indeed, I hardly
+know what I should have done without her the first week, as two of my
+nurses were ill just at the time when we were fullest. She shows a
+remarkable aptitude for nursing, which is rather singular, as she tells
+me that until lately she has been extremely timid about such matters,
+fainting at the sight of blood, etc. You never would think it now, to
+see her going about her work in the wards. The patients idolise her, and
+what is more (and less common), so do the nurses, who declare that she
+will miss her vocation if she does not go into a training-school as soon
+as she leaves Las Rosas; but I fancy you would not choose so arduous a
+life for her.
+
+[Illustration: "THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER."]
+
+This brings me, my dear Mr. Montfort, to what is really the chief object
+in my writing to you to-day. Without beating about the bush, I am going
+to say, at once and frankly, that my dear son, Jack, has become deeply
+attached to this charming niece of yours. Who could be surprised at it?
+she must always have been charming; but the sweetness and thoughtfulness
+that I have seen growing day by day while she has been under my charge
+are, I somehow fancy, a new phase of her development. Indeed, Rita
+herself has told me, in her vivid way, of some of the wild pranks of her
+"unguided youth," as she calls it,--the child will be nineteen, I
+believe, on her next birthday!--and we have laughed and shaken our heads
+together over them. She is far more severe upon herself than I can be,
+for I see the quick, impulsive nature, and see, too, how it is being
+subdued and brought more and more under control by a strong will and a
+good heart. A very noble woman our Rita will make, if she has the right
+surroundings.
+
+Can we give her these? that is the question; a question for you to
+answer, dear Mr. Montfort. Jack saw readily, when I pointed it out to
+him, that it would not be suitable for him to speak of love to an orphan
+girl--an heiress, too, I believe--without her guardian's express
+consent. He chafes at the delay, for he is very ardent, being half
+Cuban; but you may have entire confidence that he will say nothing to
+Rita until I hear from you.
+
+You can easily find out about Jack; there is nothing in his life that he
+need conceal. Colonel G. and Mrs. B----, in New York, Professor Searcher
+and Doctor Lynx, of Blank College, will tell you of his school and
+college days; and Captain Montfort will, I think, say a good word for
+his record as a soldier and a patriot. Of course, in my eyes, he is a
+little bit of a hero; but maternal prejudice laid aside (if such a thing
+may be!), I can truly say that he is a clean, honest, high-minded man,
+with a sound constitution and an excellent disposition. Add to this a
+moderate income (not, I am happy to say, enough to allow him to dispense
+with work, were he inclined to do so, which he is not), and a very
+earnest and devoted attachment, and you have the whole case before you.
+May I hope to have your answer as soon as you shall have satisfied
+yourself on the various points on which you will naturally seek
+information? I assure you that, with the best intentions in the world,
+Jack does find it hard to restrain himself. Let me add that, if your
+answer is favourable, it will make me as well as my son very happy. Rita
+is all that I could wish for in a daughter; and I shall try my best to
+fill a mother's place toward her.
+
+In any case, believe me, dear Mr. Montfort,
+
+                                          Cordially yours,
+                                             MARY RUSSELL DELMONTE.
+
+P.S. You may ask, does Rita return Jack's affection? _I think she
+does!_
+
+
+                                             SANTIAGO, June --, 1898.
+
+HONOURED SENOR:--Your valued letter, containing inquiries on the subject
+of Senor Captain John Delmonte is at hand and contents notified. I
+hasten to reply with all the ardour of which I am capacious. This young
+man is a nobleman; few princes have equalled him in virtuous worth.
+Brave, honourable, pious (though Protestant; but this belief is probably
+your own, and is held by many of those most valuable to me, your
+honoured brother among them), a faithful and obedient son, a leader
+beloved to rapture by his soldiers. If more could be to say, I would
+hasten to cry it aloud. You tell me, with noble frankness, he is a
+pretender for the hand of my beloved Margarita; already it has been my
+happiness to be aware of it. Senor Montfort, to see these two admirable
+young persons united in the holy bondages of weddinglock is the last and
+chief wish of my life. I earnestly beg your sanction of their unition.
+In Jack I find a son for my solitary age; in Margarita a daughter, the
+most tender as she is the most beautiful that the world contains. To
+close my aged eyes on seeing them unified, is, I repeat it, the one wish
+of,
+
+                      Honoured Senor,
+                 Your most obedient and humble servitor,
+                                                    MIGUEL PIETOSO.
+
+
+                                           LAS ROSAS, June --, 1898.
+
+MY DEAR MR. MONFORT:--I have just read your letter to my mother, and I
+want to thank you before I do anything else. There isn't much to say,
+except that I will do my best to be in some degree worthy of this
+treasure, if I win it. I will try to make her happy, sir, I will indeed.
+No one could be good enough for her, so I will not pretend to that.
+
+She is awake now, so I must go.
+
+                                           Gratefully yours,
+                                                       JOHN DELMONTE.
+
+
+                                                 LAS ROSAS, Evening.
+
+DEAREST, DEAREST MARGARET:--Why are you not here? I want you--oh, I want
+you so much! I am so happy, so wonderfully, almost _terribly_ happy, how
+can I put it on paper? The paper will light itself, will burn up for
+joy, I think; but I will try. Listen! an hour ago--it is an evening of
+heaven, the moon was shining for me, for me and--oh, but wait! I was in
+the garden, resting after the day's work; I had been asleep, and now
+would take the remainder of my free time in waking rest. The air was
+balm, the roses all in blossom. Such roses were never seen, Marguerite;
+the place is named for them, Las Rosas. They are in bowers, in garlands,
+in heaps and mounds--I smell them now. The rose is my flower, remember
+that, my life long. I used to tell you it was the jessamine; the
+jessamine is a simpleton, I tell you. I was picking white roses, the
+kind that blushes a little warm at its heart--when I heard some one
+coming. I knew who it was; can I tell how? It was Captain Jack. I
+trembled. He came to me, he spoke, he took my hand. Oh, my dear, my
+dear, I cannot tell you what he said; but he loves me; he is my Jack, I
+am his Rita. Marguerite, will you tell me how it can be true? Your wild,
+silly, foolish Rita, playing at emotions all her childish life: she
+wakes up, she begins to try to be a little like you, my best one; and
+all of a sudden she finds herself in Paradise, with a warrior
+angel--Marguerite, I did not think of it till this moment; my Jack is
+the express image of St. Michael. His nose tips up the least bit in the
+world--I don't mind it; it gives life, dash, to his wonderful face;
+otherwise there is _no_ difference. My St. Michael! my soldier, my Star
+of Horsemen! Marguerite, no girl was ever so happy since the world was
+made. Oh, don't think me fickle; let me tell you! In the South here, are
+we different? It must be so. I _was_ fond of Santayana; but that was in
+another life. I was a sentimental, passionate child; he was handsome as
+a picture; it was a dream of seventeen. Now--can you believe that I am a
+little grown up? I really think I am. Perhaps I think it most because
+now, for the first time, I _really_ want to be like you, Marguerite. I
+used to be so pleased with being myself--I was the vainest creature that
+ever lived. Now, I want to be like you instead; I want to be a good
+woman, a good wife. Ah! what a wife you will make if you marry! But how
+can you marry, my poor darling? There is only one man in the world good
+enough for you, and he is mine. I cannot give him up, even to you, my
+saint. I have two saints now; I ought to be a Catholic. The second one
+is his mother, the Saint of Las Rosas, as she is called all through this
+part of the island. Marguerite, I must strive to grow like her, too, if
+such a thing were possible. I have work enough for my life, but what
+blessed work! to try to make myself worthy of Jack Delmonte, my Jack, my
+own!
+
+He took me to his mother; I have just come from her. I am her daughter
+from that moment, she says; oh, Marguerite, I will try to be a good one.
+Hear me--no! I am not going to make vows any more, or talk like girls in
+novels; I am just going to try. I loved her from the first moment I saw
+her grave, beautiful face. She took me in her arms, my dear; she said
+things--I have come up here to weep alone, tears of happiness. Dearest,
+you alone knew thoroughly the old Rita, the foolish creature, who dies,
+in a way, to-night. Say good-bye to her; give her a kiss, Marguerite,
+for she too loved you; but not half as dearly as does the new, happy,
+blessed
+
+                                      MARGARITA DE SAN REAL MONTFORT.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Page 12, "authoritaties" changed to "authorities" (by the authorities)
+
+Page 25, word "by" inserted into text (takes me by)
+
+Page 74, "senorita" changed to "senorita" (patriotism of the senorita)
+
+Page 129, "senorita" changed to "senorita" (would befit the senorita)
+
+Page 148, word "be" inserted into text (there'd have to be)
+
+Page 213, "gentlemen" changed to "gentleman" (little old gentleman)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rita, by Laura E. Richards
+
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