RITA

BOOKS FOR GIRLS By Laura E.Richards

The MARGARET SERIES

Three Margarets Margaret MontfortPeggy Rita Fernley House

The HILDEGARDE SERIES

Queen Hildegarde Hildegarde'sHoliday Hildegarde's HomeHildegarde's Neighbors Hildegarde'sHarvest

DANA ESTES & COMPANYPublishers Estes Press, Summer St.,Boston

RITA

BY

LAURA E. RICHARDS

AUTHOR OF

"PEGGY," "MARGARETMONTFORT," "THREEMARGARETS," ETC.

Illustrated by ETHELDRED B.BARRY

BOSTON DANA ESTES &COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1900 BY DANA ESTES&COMPANY

Colonial Press Electrotyped andPrinted 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 toany of my readers, I can only refer themto some one of the many publishedaccounts of the Spanish-American War.They will find that many delicate andtenderly nurtured girls were forced toendure dangers and privationscompared to which Rita's adventuresseem like child's play.

L. E. R.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE I.THREATENING WEATHER 11 II.THE STORM BURSTS 23 III. ONTHE WAY 33 IV. THE CAMPAMONG THE HILLS 54 V. TOMARGARET 77 VI. IN THE NIGHT93 VII. CAMP SCENE 110 VIII. THEPACIFICOS 130 IX. IN HIDING 142X. MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY163 XI. CAPTAIN JACK 176 XII.FOR LIFE 190 XIII. MEETINGSAND GREETINGS 200 XIV.

ANOTHER CAMP 216 XV. AFOREGONE CONCLUSION 233

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

"RITA MONTFORT DREW HERDAGGER AND WAITED" Frontispiece

IN THE GARDEN 21

"THE FAMISHED CHILDLOOKED FROM THE BISCUIT TOTHE GLOWING FACE" 43

"'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL.'SIT STILL'" 104

"'WAS SUCH A HAT EVER SEENIN PARIS '" 147

"'I THROW OPEN THE DOORAND STEP BACK, MY HEART INMY MOUTH'" 172

"NOW AGAIN IT WAS A RIDE FORLIFE" 205

"THE PATIENTS IDOLISE HER"237

RITA.

CHAPTER I.

THREATENING WEATHER.

TO SENOR,

Senor the illustrious Don John Montfort.

Honoured Senor and Brother : There areseveral months that I wrote to informyou of the deeply deplored death ofmy lamented husband, Senor DonRichard Montfort. Your letter ofcondolation and advice was balm

poured upon my bleeding wounds,received before yesterday at the handsof my banker, Don Miguel Pietoso.You are the brother of my adoredhusband, your words are as if spokenfrom his casket. You tell me, stay athome, remain in quietness, till thesealarms of war are over. Alas!respectable senor, to accomplish thisHavana is since the shocking affair ofthe Maine in uproar; on each side arethreats, are cries, "Death to theAmericanos!" My bewept angel, DonRichard, was in his heart Spanish, bybirth American; I see brows black uponme me, a Castilian! when I go from myhouse. Already they speak of to burnthe houses of wealthy Americans, to

drive forth those dwelling in.

Again, senor, my daughter, your nieceMargarita what to do, I ask you, of thisyoung person She is Cuban, she isfanatic, she is impossible. I applymyself to instruct her as her station andfortune demand, as befits a Spanishlady of rank; she insubordinates me,she makes mockery of my position ashead of her house. She teach her parrotto cry "Viva Cuba Libre!" She play atopen windows her guitar, songs ofCuban rebels, forbidden by theauthorities. I exert my power, I exhort, Icommand, she laughs me at the nose,and sings more loud. I attend that infew days we are all the two in prison.

What to do you already know that herbetrothed, Senor Santillo de Santayana,is dead a year ago of a calenture. Hergrief was excessive; she intended to die,and made preparation costing largesums of money for her obsequies. Sheforget all now, she says, for her country.In this alarming time, the freedom herfather permitted her (his extremephilanthropy overcoming hisjudgmatism) becomes impossible. Iimplore you, highly honoured senorand brother, to write your commandsto this unhappy child, that she submitherself to me, her guardian in nature,until you can assert your legalpotencies. I intend shortly to makeretreat in the holy convent of the White

Sisters, few miles from here. Ritaaccompanionates me, and I trust thereto change the spirit of rebellion soshocking in a young person unmarried,into the soul docile and sheep-like asbecomes a highly native Spanishmaiden. The Sisters are of justicecelebrated for their pious austeritiesand the firmness of their rule. Rita willremain with them until peace is assured,or until your emissaries apport distinctadvice.

For me, your kind and graciousinquiries would have watered my heartwere it not already blasted. Desolationmust attend my remaining years; butthrough them all I shall be, dear senor

and brother, your most grateful and inaffliction devoted sister and servant,

MARIA CONCEPCION DENARAGUA MONTFORT. Havana,April 30, 1898.

DEAREST, DEAREST UNCLE: Mystepmother says she has written to youconcerning me. I implore you, as youloved your brother, my sainted father,to believe no single word she says. Thiswoman is of a duplicity, a falseness,impossible for your lofty soul tocomprehend. It needs a Cuban, myuncle, to understand a Spaniard. Shewants to take me to the convent, tothose terrible White Sisters, who will

shave my head and lacerate my fleshwith heated scourges, Manuela has toldme about them; scourges of iron chainsknotted and made hot, me, a Protestant,daughter of a free American. UncleJohn, it is my corpse alone that she willcarry there, understand that! Never willI go alive. I have daggers; here on mywall are many of them, beautifullyarranged; I polish them daily, it is myone mournful pleasure; they are sharpas lightning, and their lustre dazzles theeye. I have poison also; a drop, and thedaughter of your brother is white andcold at the feet of her murderess.Enough! she will be avenged. CarlosMontfort lives; and you, too, I know it,I feel it, would spring, would leap

across the sea to avenge your Rita, whofondly loves you. Hear me swear, myuncle, on my knees; never, never will Igo alive to that place of death, theconvent. (I pray you to pardon thisblot; I spilt the ink, kneeling in passion;what would you have )

Your unhappy RITA.

BELOVED MARGUERITE: I havewritten to our dear and honoured uncleof the perils which surround me. Mylife, my reason, are at stake. It may bethat I have but a few weeks more tolive. Every day, therefore, dearest, let mepour out my soul to you, now my onecomfort on earth, since my heart was

laid in the grave of my Santayana.

It is night; all the house is wrapped inslumber; I alone wake and weep. Iseldom sleep now, save by fitfulsnatches. I sit as at this moment, by mylittle table, my taper illuminated, in mypeignoir (you would be pleased withmy peignoir, my poor Marguerite! it iswhite mousseline d'Inde, flowing very fullfrom the shoulders, falling in veritableclouds about me, with deep ruffles ofValenciennes and bands of insertion;the ribbons white, of course; maidensshould mourn in white, is it not so,Marguerite no colour has approachedme since my bereavement; fortunatelyblack and white are both becoming to

me, while that other, Concepcion, lookslike a sick orange in either. Even theflowers in my room are solely white.)

It seems a thousand years since I heardfrom you, my cool snow-pearl ofcousins. Write more often to your Rita,she implores you. I pine for news ofyou, of Uncle John, of all at dear, dearFernley. Alas! how young I was there! asimple child, sporting among theNorthern daisies. Now, in thewhirlwind of my passionate existence, Ilook back to that peaceful summer. Foryou, Marguerite, the green oasis, thepalm-trees, the crystal spring; for me,the sand storm and the fiery death. Nomatter! I live and die a daughter of

Cuba, the gold star on my brow, thethree colours painted on my heart.Good night, beloved! I kiss the happypaper that goes to you. Till to-morrow,and while I live,

Your RITA.

HAVANA, May 1, 1898.

Not until afternoon goes the mailsteamer, Marguerite, only pearl of myheart. I wrote you a few burning wordslast night; then I flung myself on mybed, hoping to lose my sorrows for afew minutes in sleep. I slept, a thinghardly known to me at present; it wasthe sleep of exhaustion, Marguerite.

When I woke, Manuela was puttingback the curtains to let in the light ofdawn. It is still early morning, fresh anddewy, and I am here in the garden. Atno time of the day is the garden morebeautiful than now, in the purity of theday's birth. I have described it to you atnight, with the cocuyos gleaming likelamps in the green dusk of the orange-trees, or the moonlight striking theworld to silver. I wish you could see itnow this garden of my soul, so soon, itmay be, to be destroyed by ruthlesshands of savage Spaniards. The palmsstand like stately pillars; till the greenplumes wave in the morning breeze,one fancies a temple or cathedral, withaisles of crowned verdure. Behind

these stand the banana-trees, rows androws, with clusters hanging thick,crimson and gold. Would Peggy behappy here, do you think Poor littlePeggy! How often I long to cut down atree, to send her whole bunches of thefruit she delights in. The mangoes, too!I used to think I could not live withoutmangoes. When I went to you, itappeared that I must die without myfruits; now their rich pulp driesuntasted by my lips: what have I to dowith food, save the bare necessary tosupport what life remains I am waitingnow for my coffee; at this momentManuela brings it, with the grape-fruitand rolls, and places it here on the tableof green marble, close by the fountain

where I sit. The fountain soothes mysuffering heart, as it tinkles in the broadbasin of green marble. Nature,Marguerite, speaks to the heart ofdespair. You have not known despair,my best one; may it be long, longbefore you do. Among her other vices,this woman, Concepcion, would like tostarve me, in my own house. Shecounts the rolls, she knows how manylumps of sugar I put in my coffee; anhour will dawn I say no more! I ampatient, Marguerite, I am forbearing, astatue, marble in the midst of fire; butbeyond a certain point I will notendure persecution, and I say to you, letConcepcion Montfort, the widow ofmy sainted father, beware!

Adios, my Magnolia Flower! I mustfeed my birds. Already they are awakeand calling the mistress they love. Theyhang I have told you in large airy cages,all round under the eaves of thesummer-house beside the fountain.They are beautiful, Margaret, the Javasparrows, the little love-birds, thesplendid macaw, the paroquets, andmocking-birds; but king among themall is Chiquito, our parrot, Marguerite,yours and mine, the one link here thatbinds me to my Northern home; for Imay call Fernley my home, Uncle Johnhas said it; the lonely orphan can think

of one spot where tender hearts beatfor her, not passionately, but withsteadfast pulses. Chico is in superbhealth; he is I tell you every time arevelation in the animal kingdom. Morethan this, he is a bird of heart; he feelsfor me, feels intensely, in this dark time.Only yesterday he bit old Julio severely;I am persuaded it was his love for methat prompted the act. Julio is aSpaniard of the Spaniards, the slave ofConcepcion. He attempted to cajole myChico, he offered him sugar. To-day hegoes with his arm in a sling, and cursesthe Cuban bird, with threats against hislife. Never mind, Marguerite! a time willsoon come I can say no more. I amdumb; the grave is less silent; but do

you think your Rita will submiteternally to tyranny and despotism No,you know she will not, it is not hernature. You look, my best one, forsome outbreak of my passionatenature, you attend that the volcanospring some sudden hour into flame,overwhelming all in its path. You areright, heart of my heart. You shall notbe disappointed. Rita will prove herselfworthy of your love. How hush! asknot, dream not! trust me and be silent.

MARGARITA DE SAN REALMONTFORT.

CHAPTER II.

THE STORM BURSTS.

GREATLY HONOURED SIR: Ipermit myself the privilege ofaddressing your Excellency, my namebeing known to you as man ofbusiness of late your admired brother,Senor Don Ricardo Montfort. I findmyself, senor, in a position of greathardness between the two admirableladies, Senora Montfort, widow ofDon Ricardo, and his beautifuldaughter, the Senorita Margarita. Theseladies, admirable, as I have said, inbeauty, character, and abilities, find it,nevertheless, impossible to live in

harmony. As man of affairs, I ampresent at painful scenes, which wringthe heart. Each cries to me to save herfrom the other. The senora desires tomake retreat at the convent of theWhite Sisters, thrice holy and beatifiedpersons, but of a strictness repugnantto the lively and ardent spirit of thesenorita. Last evening took place aterrible enactment, at which I mostunluckily assisted. Senora Montfortpermitted her lofty spirit to assert itselfmore strongly than her delicatecorporosity was able to endure, and fellinto violent hystericality. Her shriekswanted little of arousing theneighbourhood; the servants becameappalled and lost their reason. Senorita

Margarita maintained her calmness, andeven refused to consider the senora'scondition as serious. On the assuranceof the young lady and the senora'smaid, I was obliged to accept the beliefthat the senora would shortly recover ifleft to herself, and came away in deepgrief, leaving that illustrious matron Ispeak with respect in fits upon thefloor. One would have said, a child ofsix deprived of its toy. Greatlyhonoured Senor Montfort, I am a manno longer young. Having myself noconjugal ameliorations, I make nopretence to comprehend the moredelicate and complex nature of females.I am cut to the heart; the senorascrupled not to address me as "Old

Fool." Heaven is my witness that I haveendeavoured of my best lights tosmoothen the path for her well-bornand at present bereaved feet. But whatcan I do Neither lady will listen to me.The senorita, let me hasten to say,shows me always a tender, I mightwithout too great a presumption say afilial, kindness. I held her in my armsfrom the day of her birth, senor; she isthe flower of the world to me. Whenshe takes me by the hands and says,"Dear old Donito Miguelito, let me doas I desire and all will be well!" I haveno strength to resist her. Had I a houseof my own, I would take this charmingchild home with me, to be my daughterwhile she would; but a bachelor living

in two rooms what would you, senor itis not possible. Deign, I beseech you, toconsider this my respectful report, andif circumstances are proprietary cometo my assistance, or send meinstructions how to act.

Accept, senor, the assurance of myperfect consideration, and believe me

Your obedient, humble servant,MIGUEL PIETOSO.

TO THE HONOURABLE SENORDON JOHN MONTFORT.

Honoured and dear Brother : Since I wroteyou last week, things the most frightful

have happened. Rita's conduct grewmore and more violent and unruled; indespair, I sent for Don Miguel. This oldman, though of irreproached character,is of a weakness pitiable to see in onewearing the form of mankind. I calledupon him to uphold me, and commandRita to obey the wife of her father. Hehad only smooth words for each of us,and endeavoured to charm thiswretched child, when terror shouldhave been his weapon. I leave you toimagine if she was influenced by hisgentle admonitions. To my face shecaressed him, and he responded to hercaresses. Don Miguel is an old man,eighty years of age, but nevertheless myanger, my just anger, rose to a height

beyond my power of control. I faintedfrom excess of emotion; I lay as onedead, and no heart stirred of mysufferings. Since then I have been in mybed, with no power more than has ababe of the cradle. This morningMargarita came to me and expressedregret for her conduct, saying that shewas willing from now to submit herselfto my righteous authority. I forgave her,I am a Christian, dear brother, andcannot forget the principles of my holyreligion, 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 frightfuldisposition of my stepdaughter. I feel itmy duty to relate these occurrences to

you, dear and honoured brother, for Ifeel that I may succumb under theweight of my afflictions. We start thisevening, and Don Miguel will informyou of our departure and safe arrival atthe holy convent, whither heaccompanies us.

Permit me to express, dear brother, thesentiments of exalted considerationwith which I must ever regard you asnext in blood to my adored consort,and believe me

Your devoted, MARIACONCEPCION DE NARAGUAMONTFORT.

GREATLY HONOURED ANDILLUSTRIOUS SIR: Let me entreatyou to prepare yourself for news ofalarming nature. Yesterday evening Iwas honoured by the commands of theSenora Montfort, that I convey her andSenorita Margarita to the holy conventof the White Sisters. My age, senor, issuch that a scene of emotion isinfinitely distressing to me, but I couldnot disobey the commands of thisillustrious lady, the widow of mykindest patron and friend. I went,prepared for tears, for outcries, perhapsfor violent resistance, for the ardentand high-strung nature of my belovedSenorita Margarita is well known to me.Figure to yourself, honoured senor, my

surprise at finding this charmingdamsel calm, composed, even smiling.She greeted me with her accustomedtenderness; a more enchantingpersonality does not, I am assured,adorn the earth than that of this lovelychild. She bade me have no alarms forher, that all was well, she was reconciledto her lot; indeed, she added that shecould not now wish things otherwise.Amazed, but also enchanted with herdocility and sweetness, I gave her anold man's blessing, and my prayers thatthe rigour of the holy Sisters might besoftened toward her tender and high-spirited youth. She replied that she hadno fear of the Sisters; that in truth shethought they would give her no trouble

of any kind. I was ravished with thisassurance, having, I may confess it toyou, senor, dreaded the contactbetween the senorita and the holyMother, a woman of incredible forceand piety. But I must hasten mynarrative. At seven o'clock last eveningtwo volantes were in readiness at thedoor of the Montfort mansion. Thefirst was driven by the senora's ownman, the second by Pasquale, a negrodevoted since childhood to thesenorita. The senora would have placedher daughter in the first of thesevehicles; but no! the senorita spranglightly into the second volante,followed by her maid, a young person,also tenderly attached to her.

Interposing myself to produce calm, Ipersuade the admirable senora to takethe position that etiquette commanded,in the first carriage. It is done; I seatmyself by her side; procession is made.The way to the convent of the WhiteSisters, senor, is a steep and rugged one;on either hand are savage passes, aremountains of precipitation. Toconceive what happened, how is itpossible When we reached the conventgate, the second volante was empty.Assassinated with terror, I makedemand of Pasquale; he admits that hemay have slept during the long trajectup the hill. He swears that he heard nosound, that no word was addressed tohim. He calls the saints to witness that

he is innocent; the saints make no reply,but that is not uncommon. I search; Irend the air with my cries; alone silenceresponds to me. The senora is carriedfainting into the convent, and I returnto Havana, a man distracted. I shouldsay that in the carriage was found thelong mantle in which the senorita hadbeen gracefully attired; to its fold a notepinned, addressed me in affectionateterms, begging her dear DonitoMiguelito not to have fear, that she wasgoing to Don Carlos, her brother, andall would be well. Since then is twodays, senor, that I have not closed theeye. I attend a fit of illness, from griefand anxiousness. In duty I intelligenceyou of this dolorous event, praying you

not to think me guilty of sin withoutpardon. I have deputed a messenger oftrust to scrub thoroughly the countryin search of Don Carlos, death to awaithim if he return without news of mybeloved senorita. He is gone nowtwelve hours. If it arrive me at anymoment the tidings, I make instantly toconvey them to your Excellency,whether of joy or affliction.

Receive, highly honoured senor, theassurance of my consideration themost elevated.

MIGUEL PIETOSO.

CHAPTER III.

ON THE WAY.

"Ah, senorita! what will become of us Ican go no farther. Will this wildernessnever end "

"Courage, Manuela! Courage, daughterof Cuba! See, it is growing light already.Look at those streaks of gold in theeast. A few moments, and the sky willbe bright; then we shall see where weare going, and all will be well. In themeantime, we are free, and on Cubansoil. What can harm us "

Rita looked around her with kindlingeyes. She was standing on a rock thatjutted from the hillside; it was a friendlyrock, and they had been sleeping underit, wrapped in their warm cloaks, forthe night was cool. A group of palmsnodded their green plumes over therock; on every side stretched a tangle ofshrubs and tall grasses, broken here andthere by palms, or by rocks like this.Standing thus in the early morninglight, Rita was a picturesque figureindeed. She was dressed in a blouse andshort skirt of black serge, with a whitekerchief knotted around her throat,and another twisted carelessly aroundher broad-brimmed straw hat. Herbeautiful face was alight with eager

inquiry and determination; her eyesroved over the landscape, as if seekingsome familiar figure; but all was strangeso far. Manuela, crouching at the footof the rock, had lost, for the moment,all the fire of her patriotism. She wascold, poor Manuela; also, she had had aheavy bag to carry, and her arms ached,and she was hungry, and, if the truthmust be told, rather cross. It was absurdto bring all these things into the desert.What use for the white silk blouse, orthe lace fichu but indeed they had noweight, whereas this monster of a

"How is Chico " asked Rita, comingdown from the rock. "Poor bird! whatdoes he think of our wandering he

must be in need of food, Manuela. Youbrought the box of seed "

"I did, senorita; as to the need ofbirdseed in a wilderness of hideousforest, I have nothing to say. My fingersare so cramped from carrying thisdetestable cage, I shall never recover thefull use of them. But the senorita mustbe obeyed."

"Assuredly she must be obeyed!" saidRita; and a flash of her eyes addedforce to the words. "Could I have comeaway, I ask you, and left this faithful,this patriot bird, to starve, or bemurdered outright Old Julio wouldhave wrung his neck, you know it well,

Manuela, the first time he spoke outfrom his heart, spoke the words offreedom and patriotism that hismistress has taught him. Poor Chiquito!thou lovest me thou art glad that Ibrought thee away from that place oftyranny and bloodshed speak to thymistress, Chico!"

But Chico's spirits had been ruffled, aswell as Manuela's, by being carriedabout in his cage, at unseemly hours,when he should have been hangingquietly in the verandah, where hebelonged. He looked sulky, and onlysaid, "Caramba! no mi gusta!"

"He is hungry! he starves!" cried Rita;

"give me the seed!" Sitting down on therock, she proceeded to feed the parrot,as composedly as if they were indeedon the wide shaded verandah, insteadof on a wild hillside, far from sight orsound of anything human.

"And the senorita's own breakfast "said Manuela at last, when Chiquitohad had enough, and had deigned torelax a little, and even to mutter, "Migustan todas!" "Is the senorita not alsodying of hunger for myself, I perish,but that is of little consequence, savethat my death will leave the senoritaalone with the parrot."

Rita burst into merry laughter. "My

poor Manuela!" she said. "Thou shaltnot perish. Breakfast we will have it thismoment. Where is the bag "

The bag being produced, it really was aheavy one, and it was hardly to bewondered at that Manuela should be alittle peevish about it, Rita drew from ita substantial box of chocolate, and atin of biscuits. "My child, webreakfast!" she announced. "If kingsdesire to breakfast more royally, I makethem my compliment. For free Cubans,bread and chocolate is a feast. Feast,then, Manuela mine. Eat, and behappy!"

Bread or rather, delicate biscuits, and

chocolate, were indeed a feast to thetwo hungry girls. They nibbled andcrunched, and Manuela's spirits rosewith every bite. Rita's had no need torise. She was having a real adventure;her dreams were coming true; she was abona-fide heroine, in a bona-fide"situation." "What have we in the bag,best of Manuelas " she asked. "I toldyou in a general way; I even addedsome trifles, for Carlos's comfort; poordear Carlos! But tell me what you putin, my best one!"

Manuela cast a rueful glance at theplump valise.

"The white silk blouse," she said; "the

white peignoir with swansdown."

"In case of sickness!" cried Rita,interrupting. "You would not have meill, far from my home, and bereft ofevery slightest comfort, Manuela surelyyou would not; I know your kind hearttoo well. Besides, the peignoir weighsnothing; a feather, a puff of vapour.Go on! what else "

"Changes of linen, of course," saidManuela. "The gold-mounted toilet-set;two bottles of eau de Cologne;cigarettes for the Senorito Don Carlos;bonbons; the ivory writing-case; thefeather fan; three pairs of shoes "

"Enough! enough!" cried Rita. "Weshall do well, Manuela. You have beenan angel of thoughtfulness. You didnot bring any jewels no I thoughtperhaps the Etruscan gold set, sosimple, yet so rich, might suit myaltered life well enough; but no matter.After all, what have I to do with jewelsnow The next question is, how are weto find Carlos "

"To find Don Carlos " echoedManuela. "You know where he is,senorita "

"But, assuredly!" said Rita, and shelooked about her confidently. "He ishere!"

"Here!" repeated Manuela.

"In the mountains!" said Rita, wavingher hand vaguely in the direction of thehorizon. "It is a search; we must lookfor him, without doubt; but he is heresomewhere. Come, Manuela, do notlook so despairing. I tell you, we shallmeet friends, it may be at any turn. Themountains are full of the soldiers ofCuba; the first ones we meet will takeus to Carlos."

"Yes," said Manuela. "But what if wemet the others, senorita what if we metthe Spanish soldiers first Hark! whatwas that "

A sound was heard close behind them;a rustling, sliding sound, as ifsomething or somebody were makinghis way swiftly through the tall grass.Manuela clutched her mistress's arm,trembling; Rita, rather pale, butcomposed, looking steadily in thedirection of the noise. It came nearerthe grass rustled and shook closebeside them; and out from the tuftedtangle came three large land-crabs,scuttling along on their ungainly claws,and evidently in a hurry. Manuelauttered a shriek, but Rita laughedaloud.

"Good luck!" she said. "They are good

Cubans, the land-crabs. Many a goodmeal has Carlos made on them, poorfellow. If we followed them, ManuelaThey may be going somewhere. Let ussee!"

The crabs were soon out of sight, butthe two girls, taking up their burdens,followed in the direction they hadtaken, along the hillside, going theyknew not whither.

There seemed to be some faintsuggestion of a path. The grasses werebent aside, and broken here and there;something had trodden here, whetherfeet of men or of animals one couldnot tell. But glad to have any guide,

however insufficient, the girls amusedthemselves by trying to discover freshmarks on tree or shrub or grass-clump.It was a wild tangle, palms andmangoes, coarse grass and savage-looking aloes, with wild vines runningriot everywhere. So far, they had seenno sign of human life, and the sun wasnow well up, his rays beating downbright and hot. Suddenly, coming to aturn on the hillside, they heard voices; amoment later, and they were standingby a human dwelling.

At first sight it looked more like theburrow of some wild animal. It was

little more than a hole dug in the sideof the clay bank. Some boughs andpalm-leaves were wattled together toform a rustic porch, and under thisporch three people were sitting, on thebare ground, two women, one young,the other old, and a little child,evidently belonging to the youngwoman. They were clothed in a fewrags; their cheeks were hollow withfamine, their eyes burning with fever.The old woman was stirring a handfulof meal into a pot of water; the otherslooked on with painful eagerness. Ritarecoiled with a low cry of terror. Shehad heard of this; these were some ofthe unhappy peasants who had beendriven from their farms. She had never

seen anything like it before. This thiswas not the play she had come to see.

The women looked up, and saw thetwo girls standing near. Instantly theybegan to cry out, in wailing voices."Go! go away! there is nothing for you;nothing! we have not more than amouthful for ourselves. Take yourselvesaway, and leave us in peace."

Rita came forward, the tears runningdown her cheeks. "Oh, poor things!"she cried. "Poor souls, I want nothing. Iam not hungry! See! I have broughtfood for you. Quick, Manuela, the bagthe biscuits, child! Give them to me!Here, thou little one, take this, and eat;

there is plenty more!"

The famished child looked from thebiscuit to the glowing face that bentover it. It made a feeble movement;then drew back in fear. The old womanstill clamoured to the girls to go away;but the younger snatched the biscuit,and began feeding the child hastily, yetcarefully. "Mother, be still!" she said,imperiously. "Hush that noise! do younot see this is no poor wretch likeourselves This is a noble lady comefrom heaven to bring us help. Thanks,senorita!" With a quick, gracefulmovement, she lifted the hem of Rita'sdress and pressed it to her lips. "Wewere dying!" she said, simply. "It was

the last morsel; we meant to give it tothe little one, and some one might findit when we were dead, and keep the lifein it."

"But, eat; eat!" cried Rita, filling thehands of both women with chocolateand biscuits. "It is dreadful, terrible! oh,I have heard of it, I have read of it, butI had not seen, I had not known. Oh,if my cousin Margaret were here, shewould know what to do! Eat, my poorstarving ones. You shall never behungry again if I can help it."

The child pulled its mother's raggedgown.

"Is it an angel " it asked, its mouth fullof chocolate.

"Hear the innocent!" said the mother."No, lamb, not yet an angel, only anoble lady on the road to heaven. See,senorita! he was pretty, while his cheekswere round and full. Still, his eyes arepretty, are they not "

"They are lovely! he is a darling!" criedRita; and she took the child in her arms,and bent over him to hide the tears.Was this truly Rita Montfort Yes, thesame Rita, only awake now, for the firsttime now in her pretty idle life. She feltof the little limbs. They were mere skinand bone; no sign of baby chubbiness,

no curve or dimple. Indeed, she hadcome but just in time. "Listen!" shesaid, presently. "Where do you comefrom where is your home "

The old woman made a gesture as wideand vague as Rita's own of a fewminutes before. "Our home, noble ladythe wilderness is our home to-day. Ourlittle farm, our cottage, our patch ofcane, all gone, all destroyed. Only thegraves of our dead left."

"We come from Velaya," said the youngwoman. "It is miles from here; we weredriven out by the Spaniards. My fatherwas killed before our eyes; she is notherself since, poor soul; do we wonder

at it we have wandered ever since. Myhusband do I know if he is alive ordead He was with our men, he knowsnothing of what has happened. If hereturns, he will think us all dead. PoorPedro! These are the conditions of war,senorita."

She spoke very quietly; but her simplewords pierced deeper than the plaintsof the poor old woman.

"Listen, again!" said Rita. "I am goingto my brother; he also is with our army;he is with the General. Do you know,can you tell me, in what direction tolook for them When I find them, I willsee; I will have provision made for you.

You must stay here now, for a fewhours; but have courage, help will comesoon. My brother Carlos and the goodGeneral will care for you. Only tell mewhere to find them, and all will bewell."

She spoke so confidently that hope andcourage seemed to go from her, andcreep into the hearts of the forlorncreatures. The baby smiled, andstretched out its little fleshless handsfor more of the precious food; even theold grandmother crept a little nearer, tokiss the hand of their benefactress, andcall on all the saints to bless her andbring her to Paradise. The youngerwoman said there had been firing

yesterday in that direction, and shepointed westward over the brow of ahill. They had seen no Cuban soldierssince they had been here, but a boy hadpassed by this morning, on his way tojoin the General, and he took the samewesterly direction, and said the nearestpickets were not far distant.

"And why did you not follow him "asked Rita. "Why did you not go withhim, and throw yourself at the feet ofour good General, as I will do for younow Yes, yes, I know; you were tooweak, poor souls; you had no strengthto travel farther. But I am young andstrong, and so is Manuela; and we willgo together, and soon we will come

again, or send help for you. Manuela,will you come with me or will it bebetter for you to stay and care for thesepoor ones while I seek Don Carlos "

But Manuela was, very properly,scandalised at the thought of heryoung lady's going off alone on anysuch quest. It appeared, she said, as ifthe senorita had left her excellentintelligence behind in Havana. Thesepeople would do very well now; theyhad food; they had, indeed, all therewas, practically, and the senorita mightherself starve, if they did not find DonCarlos 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 bestirred as mine is; but never mind thehungry are fed, and that is the thing ofimportance. Farewell, then, friends!How do they call you, that I may knowhow to tell those whom I shall send "

The younger woman was namedDolores, she said. Her husband wasPedro Valdez, and this old one was hismother. If the senorita should seePedro if by Heaven's mercy he shouldbe with the General at this moment, allwould indeed be well. In any case, theirprayers and blessings would go withthe senorita and her valued attendant.

Often and often, the soft Spanishspeech of compliment and ceremonysounded hollow and artificial in Rita'sears, even though she had been used toit all her life; but there was no doubtingthe sincerity of these earnest andheartfelt thanks. Her own heart felt verywarm, as she turned, with a final waveof the hands, to take a last look at thelittle group by the earth-hovel.

"We have made a good beginning,Manuela," she said. "We have savedthree lives, I truly believe. Now we shallgo on with new courage. I feel,Manuela, that I can do anything meetany foe. Ah! what is that a snake! a

horrible green snake! I faint, Manuela! Idie no, I don't. See, I am the sister of asoldier, and I am not going to die anymore, when I see these fearful creatures.Manuela, do you observe I am firm;marble, Manuela, is soft in comparisonwith me. Ah, he is gone away. This is aworld of peril, my poor child. Let ushasten on; Carlos waits for us, thoughhe does not know it."

Talking thus, with much more of thesame kind, Rita pushed on, andManuela followed as best she might.Rita had left the parrot's cage undercharge of Dolores, and carried the birdon her shoulder, with only a cordfastened to his leg. Chico was well used

to this, and made no effort to fly away;indeed, he had reached an age when itwas more comfortable to sit on a softshoulder and be fed and petted, than toflutter among strange trees and find hisliving for himself; so he sat still,crooning to himself from time to time,and cocking his bright yellow eye at hismistress, to see what she thought of itall.

It was hard work, pushing through thejungle. The girls' hands were scratchedand torn with brambles; Rita's delicateshoes were in a sad condition; her dressbegan to show more than one jaggedrent. Still she made her way forward,with undaunted zeal, cheering the

weary Manuela with jest and story.Indeed, the girl seemed thoroughlytransformed, and her Northerncousins, who had known and loved hereven in her wilful indolence, wouldhardly have recognised their Rita in thisvaliant maiden, who made nothing ofheat, dust, or even scorpions, andpressed on and on in her quest of herbrother.

After an hour of weary walking, thegirls came to a road, or something thatpassed for a road. There was no sign oflife on it, but there was something thatmade them start, then stop and look ateach other. Beside the rough path, in atangle of vines and thorny cactus,

stood the ruin of a tiny chapel. Agroup of noble palms towered aboveit; from the stony bank behind itbubbled a little fountain. The door ofthe chapel was gone; it was long sincethere had been glass in the windows,and the empty spaces showed onlyemptiness within; yet the bell still hungin the mouldering belfry; the bell-ropetrailed above the sunken porch, itswhole length twined with floweringcreepers. It was a strange sight.

"Manuela!" cried Rita; "do you see "

"I see the holy chapel," said Manuela,who was a good Catholic. "Somesaintly man lived here in old times. Pity,

that the altar is gone. It must have beena pretty chapel, senorita."

"The bell!" cried Rita. "Do you see thebell, Manuela what if we rang it, to letCarlos know that we are near It is agood idea, a superb idea!"

"Senorita, I implore you not to touch it!For heaven's sake, senorita! Alas, whathave you done "

Manuela clasped her hands, and fairlywailed in terror, for Rita had graspedthe bell-rope, and was pulling it withright good will. Ding! ding! the notesrang out loud and clear. The rockbehind caught up the echo, and sent it

flying across to the hill beyond. Ding!ding! The parrot screamed, and Ritaherself, after sounding two or threepeals, dropped the rope, and stood withparted lips and anxious eyes, waiting tosee what would come of it.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CAMP AMONG THE HILLS.

A sound of voices! eager voices ofmen, calling to one another. The treadof hasty feet, the noise of breakingbushes, of men sliding, jumping,running, hurrying, coming every instant

nearer and nearer. What had Rita done,indeed Manuela crouched on themouldering floor at her mistress's feet,too terrified even to cry out now; RitaMontfort drew her dagger, and waited.

Next instant the narrow doorway wasthronged with men; swarthy black-browed men, ragged, hatless, shoeless,but all armed, all with rifle cocked, allpressing forward with eager, wonderinglooks.

"Who rang the bell what has happened"

A babel of voices arose; Rita could nothave made herself heard if she would;

and, indeed, for the moment no wordscame to her lips. But there was one tospeak for her. Chiquito, the old grayparrot, raised his head from hershoulder, where he had been quietlydozing, and flapped his wings, andcried aloud:

"Viva Cuba Libre! viva Garcia! vivaGomez! a muerto Espana!" There was amoment's silence; then the voices brokeout again in wild cries and cheers.

"Ah, the Cuban bird! the parrot offreedom! Welcome, senorita! You bringus good luck! Welcome to the Cubanladies and their glorious bird! VivaCuba Libre! viva Garcia! viva el papageno!

long life to the illustrious lady!"

Rita, herself again, stepped from thechapel, erect and joyous, holding theparrot aloft.

"I thank you, brothers!" she said. "Icome to seek freedom among you; I ama daughter of Cuba. Does any amongyou know Don Carlos Montfort "

The babel rose again. Know DonCarlos but surely! was he not theircaptain Even now he was at theGeneral's quarters, consulting himabout the movements of the next day.What joy! what honour for the poorsons of Cuba to form the escort of the

peerless sister of Don Carlos toheadquarters! But the distance wasnothing. They would carry the senoritaand her attendant; they would make athrone, and transport them as lightly asif swans drew them. Ah, the fortunateday! the lucky omen of the blessedparrot!

They babbled like children, crowdinground Chiquito, extolling his beauty,his wisdom, the miracle of his timelyutterance. Chiquito seemed to think, forhis part, that he had done enough. Hepaid no attention to the blandishmentsof his ragged admirers, but turnedhimself upside down, always a sign ofcontempt with him, said "Caramba!"

and would say nothing more.

A little procession was formed, the leastragged of the patriots leading the way,Rita and Manuela following. The otherscrowded together behind, exclaiming,wondering, pleased as children withthis wonderful happening. Thus theycrossed a ragged hill, threaded a groveof palms, and finally came upon anopen space, roughly cleared, in themiddle of which stood a tent, withseveral rude huts around it. Thesoldiers explained with eager gestures.Behold the tent of the illustriousGeneral. Behold the dwelling of DonRodrigo, of Don Uberto, of DonCarlos; behold, finally, Don Carlos

himself, emerging from the General'stent. The gallant ragamuffins drewback, and became on the instantspectators at a play. A slender youngman came out of the tent, evidently toinquire the meaning of the commotion.At what he saw he turned apparently tostone, and stood, cigarette in hand,staring at the vision before him. But forRita there was no hesitation now.Running to her brother, she threw herarms around his neck with unaffectedjoy.

"Carlos!" she cried. "I have come toyou. I had no one else to go to. Theywere taking me to the convent, and Iwould have died sooner. I have come to

you, to live or die with you, for ourcountry."

Manuela wept; the soldiers were movedto tears, and brushed their raggedsleeves across their eyes. But CarlosMontfort did not weep.

"Rita!" he said, in English, returning hissister's caress affectionately, but withlittle demonstration of joy. "What is themeaning of this what induced you howcould you do such a thing as this wheredo you come from how did you findyour way " And he added to himself,"And what the mischief am I to dowith you now you are here "

Rita explained hastily; gave a dramaticsketch of her adventures, not forgettingthe unfortunate peasants, who must,she said, be rescued that instant fromtheir wretched plight; and wound upwith a vivid description of the bell-ringing, the gathering of the patriotforces, and the magnificent behaviourof her beloved Chiquito.

"Good gracious! you have brought theparrot, too!" cried poor Carlos. "Rita!Rita! this is too much."

At this moment a new person appearedon the scene. A tall old man, stoopinghis head, came out from the tent, andgreeted the wandering damsel with

grave courtesy.

Perhaps the General had seen too muchof life and of war to be surprised atanything; perhaps he was sorry for theembarrassment of his young lieutenant,and wished to make things easier forhim; however it was, he apparentlyfound it the most natural thing in theworld for a young lady and her maid tobe wandering in the wilderness insearch of the Cuban army. The firstthing, he said, was to make the senoritacomfortable, as comfortable as theirlimited powers would allow. She wouldtake his tent, of course; it was her ownfrom that instant; but equally of courseneither Rita nor Carlos would hear of

this. A friendly dispute ensued; and itwas finally decided that Rita andManuela were to make themselves ascomfortable as might be in Carlos'sown tent, while he shared that of hiscommander. The General yielded onlyunder protest to this arrangement; yethe did yield, seeing that resistancewould distress both brother and sister.Since the senorita would not take histent, he said, the next best thing wasthat she should accept his hospitality,such as he could offer her, within it; orrather, before it, since the evening waswarm. His men were even nowpreparing the evening meal; when thesenorita was refreshed and rested, hehoped she and Don Carlos would share

it with him.

Rita withdrew into the little hut, in aglow of patriotism and enthusiasm."Manuela," she cried, "did you ever seesuch nobleness, such lofty yet graciouscourtesy Ah! I knew he was a man todie for. How happy we are, to be hereat last, after dreaming of it so long! Ithrill; I burn with sacred fire what is thematter, Manuela you look the spirit ofgloom. What has happened "

Manuela was crouching on the bareearthen floor, her shoulders shruggedup to her ears, her dark eyes glancingaround the tiny room with everyexpression of marked disapproval. It

was certainly not a luxuriousapartment. The low walls were ofrough logs, the roof was a ragged pieceof very dingy canvas, held in place bystones here and there. In one cornerwas a pile of dried grass and leaves,with a blanket thrown over it, evidentlyDon Carlos's bed. There was a camp-stool, a rude box set on end, thatseemed to do duty both for dressingand writing table, since it was litteredwith papers, shaving materials,cigarette-cases, and a variety of otherarticles.

Manuela spread out her arms with adespairing gesture. Was this, she asked,the place where the senorita was going

to live Where was she to hang thedresses where was she to lay out thedressing things As to making up thebed, it would be better to die at once, inManuela's opinion, than to live HereManuela stopped suddenly, for she hadseen something. Rita, whose back wasturned to the doorway of the hut, wasrating her severely. Was this Manuela'spatriotism, she wished to know had shenot said, over and over again, that shewas prepared to shed the last drop ofblood for their country, as she herself,Rita, was longing to do and now, whenit was simply a question of a littlediscomfort, of a few privations sharedwith their brave defenders, here wasManuela complaining and fretting, like

a peevish child. Well! and what was thematter now

Manuela had risen from her despairingposition, and was now bustling aboutthe hut, brushing, smoothing, tidyingup, with an air of smiling alacrity. Butindeed, yes! she said; the senorita puther to shame. If the senorita couldendure these trials, it was not for herpoor Manuela to complain. No, indeed,sooner would she die. And after all, thehut was small, but that made thingsmore handy, perhaps. The beautifultable that this would become, if shemight remove the Senor Don Carlos'scigar-ashes There! a scarf thrown overit ah! What fortune, that she had

brought the crimson satin scarf!Behold, an exhibition of beauty! As forthe bed, she had heard from from thosewho were soldiers themselves, that nocouch was so soft, so wooing to sleep,as one of forest boughs. It stood toreason; there was poetry in the thought,as the senorita justly remarked. Now,with a few nails or pegs to hang thingson, their little apartment would becomplete. Let the senorita of hergoodness forget the foolishness of herpoor Manuela; she should hear nomore of it; that was a promise.

Rita looked in amazement at herfollower; the girl's eyes were sparkling,her cheeks flushed, and she could not

keep back the smiles that camedimpling and rippling over her prettyface.

"But what has happened to you,Manuela " cried Rita. "I insist uponknowing. What have you seen "

What had Manuela seen, to producesuch a sudden and amazing changeNothing, surely; or next to nothing. Aragged soldier had strolled past thedoor of the hut; a black-browed fellow,with a red handkerchief tied over hishead, and a black cigar nearly a footlong; but what should that matter toManuela

Rita looked at her curiously, but couldget no explanation, save that Manuelahad come to her senses, owing to thenoble and glorious example set her byher beloved senorita.

"Well!" said Rita, turning away half-petulantly. "Of course I know you areas changeable as a weathercock,Manuela. But as you were saying, if wehad a few nails, we should do wellenough here. I will go ask the SenorDon Carlos "

"Pardon, dearest senorita!" criedManuela, hastily. "But what a pity thatwould be, to disturb the senor duringhis arduous labours. Without doubt the

illustrious Senor Don Generalissimo(Manuela loved a title, and always madethe most of one) requires him everyinstant, in the affairs of the nation. I Ican find some one who will get nailsfor us, and drive them also."

"You can find some one " repeatedRita. "And whom, then, can you find,pray "

"Only Pepe!" said Manuela, in a smallvoice.

Was the name a conjuring-spell It hadhardly been spoken when Pepe himselfstood in the doorway, duckingrespectfully at the senorita, but looking

out of the corners of his black eyes atManuela. Rita smiled in spite of herself.Was this ragamuffin, barefoot, tattered,his hair in elf-locks, was this the onceelegant Pepe, the admired of himselfand all the waiting-maids of HavanaHe had once been Carlos's servant,when the young Cuban had time andtaste for such idle luxuries; now he washis fellow soldier and faithful follower.

"Well, Pepe," said Rita; "you also arehere to welcome us, it appears. That iswell. If you could find us a few nails,my good Pepe the Senor Don Carlos isoccupied with the General at present,and you can help us, if you will."

Where had Rita learned this new andgracious 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, insideas well as outside Certainly the prettyairs and graces have given way to awomanly and thoughtful look not at allunbecoming to any face, howeverbeautiful.

The thoughtful look deepened intoanxiety, as a sudden recollection flashedinto her mind. "Oh!" she cried. "Andhere I sit in peace, and have donenothing about those poor creatures in

the hut! I must go to the General! Butstay! Pepe, do you know is there a manin the camp called Pedro Valdez "

But, yes! Pepe said. Assuredly there wassuch a man. Did the senorita requirehim

"Oh, please bring him!" said Rita. "Tellhim that I have something ofimportance to tell him. Quick, my goodPepe!"

Pepe vanished, and soon returned,dragging by the collar a lean scarecroweven more dilapidated than himself.Apparently the poor fellow had beenasleep, and had been roughly clutched

and hauled across the camp, for his hairwas full of leaves and grass, and he wasrubbing his eyes and swearing softlyunder his breath, vowing vengeance onhis captor.

"Silence, animal!" said Pepe,admonishing him by a kick of thepresence of ladies; "Behold theillustrious senorita, who does you thehonour to look at you. Attention,Swine of the Antilles!"

Thus adjured, poor Pedro straightenedhimself, made the best bow he could,and stood sheepishly before Rita, tryingfurtively to brush a few of the sticksand straws off his ragged clothing.

"You are Pedro Valdez " asked Rita.

At the service of the illustrioussenorita. Yes, he was Pedro Valdez; inno condition to appear in suchcompany, but nevertheless her slave andher beast of burden.

"Oh, listen!" cried Rita, her eyessoftening with compassion and anxiety."You have a wife, Pedro Valdez, a wifeand a dear little child, is it not so andyour mother she is old and weak. Whenhave you seen them all, Valdez Wheredid you leave them "

The man looked bewildered. "Leave

them, senorita I left them at home, inour village. They were well, all was well,when I came away. Has anythingbefallen them "

"They are safe! All is well with themnow, or will be well, when you go tothem. They are near here, Valdez. TheSpaniards broke up the village, do yousee Dolores and your mother fled withthe little one. The village was burned,and many souls perished; but Doloreswas so strong, so brave, that she got theold mother away alive and safe, and thechild as well. They have sufferedterribly, my poor man; you must lookto find them pale and thin, but they arealive, and all will be well when once

they have found you."

Seeing Valdez overcome for themoment, Rita hastened to the General'stent and told her story, begging that thehusband and father might be allowedto go at once to the relief of hissuffering family.

"And he shall bring them here, shall henot " she cried, eagerly. "They cannot beseparated again, can they, dear SenorGeneral you will make room forDolores that is the wife; oh, such abrave woman! and the old mother, andthe dear little child!"

The General looked puzzled; a look

half quizzical, half sad, stole over hisfine face; while he hesitated, Carlosbroke out hastily: "Rita! you are toounreasonable! Do you think we are in acity here do you think the General haseverything at his command, to maintainan establishment of women andchildren It is not to be thought of. Wehave no room, no supplies, noconveniences of any kind; they must goelsewhere."

"They can have my house!" cried Rita,"Your house, brother Carlos, which youhave given to me. I will sleep in ahammock, under a tree. What matter Iwill live on bread and water; I will "

"My dear young lady!" said the General,interrupting her eager speech with alifted hand. "My dear child, if an oldman may call you so, if only we hadbread for all, there would be no furtherquestion. We would gladly take thesepoor people, and hundreds of othersuffering ones who fill the hills andvalleys of our unhappy country. ButCarlos is right, alas! that I must say it.Here in the mountain camp, it isimpossible for us to harbour refugees,unless for a night or so, while otherprovision is making. Let Valdez bringhis family here for the night we canmake shift to feed and shelter them solong. After that "

He shook his head sadly. Rita claspedher hands in distress. To be broughtface to face with the impossible was anew experience to the spoiled child.There was a moment's silence. Then:

"Senor General," she cried, "I know! Isee! all may yet be managed. They shallgo to our house."

"To "

"To our house, Carlos's and mine, inHavana. There are servants, troops ofthem; there is food, drink, everything,in abundance, in wicked, shamefulabundance. Julio shall take care ofthem; Julio shall treat them as his

mother and his sister. I will writecommands to him; this instant I willwrite."

Snatching a sheet of paper from thetable, she wrote furiously for amoment, then handed the paper to theGeneral with a look of satisfaction.The General oh, how slow he was!adjusted his glasses, and read the papercarefully; looked at Rita; looked atCarlos, and read the paper again. Ritaclenched her little hands, but was calmas marble, as she assured herself. "HaveI the senorita's permission to read thisaloud " asked the old man at last. "Itmay be that Don Carlos's advice athousand thanks, senorita." He read:

"JULIO: The bearer of this is the wifeof Pedro Valdez. You are to take herand her family in, and give them thebest the house contains; the best, doyou hear put them in the marble guest-chamber, and place the house at theirdisposal. Send for Doctor Blanco toattend them; let Teresa wait upon them,and let her furnish them with clothesfrom my wardrobe. If you do not doall this, Julio, I will have you killed; sofail not as you value your life.

"MARGARITA DE SAN REALMONTFORT.

"P.S. The Senor Don Carlos is here with

me, and echoes what I say. We are withthe brave General Sevillo, and if youdare to disobey, terrible revenge will betaken."

"The ardent patriotism of the senorita,"said the General, cautiously, "isbeautiful and inspiring; nevertheless, isit not possible that a more conciliatorytone might I would not presume todictate, but "

"Oh, Rita!" cried Carlos. "Child, whenwill you learn that we are no longeracting plays at home This is absurd!"

With an impatient movement thatmight have been Rita's own, he

snatched the paper and tore it in two."The General cannot be troubled withsuch folly!" he said, shortly. "Go toyour room, my sister, and reposeyourself after your fatigues."

"By no means!" cried the kindlyGeneral, seeing Rita's eyes fill with tearsof anger and mortification. "Thesenorita has promised to make my teafor me this evening. Give orders, I prayyou, Don Carlos, that Valdez bring hisfamily to us for the night; the rest canwell wait for to-morrow's light. Thesenorita is exhausted, I fear, with hermanifold fatigues, and she must haveno more anxieties to-day. Behold thetea at this moment! Senorita Rita, this

will be the pleasantest meal I have hadsince I left my home, two years ago."

No anger could stand against theGeneral's smile. In a moment Rita wassmiling herself, though the tears stillstood in her dark eyes, and one greatdrop even rolled down her cheek, tothe General's great distress. Carlos,seeing with contrition his sister's effortat self-control, bent to kiss her cheekand murmur a few affectionate words.Soon they were all seated around thelittle table, Rita and the General oncamp-stools, Carlos on a box. The teawas smoking hot; what did it matterthat the nose of the teapot was brokenRita had never tasted anything so

delicious as that cup of hot tea,without milk, and with a morsel ofsugar-cane for sweetening. The campfare, biscuits soaked in water and friedin bacon fat, was better, she declared,than any food she had ever tasted in herlife. To her delight, a small box ofchocolate still remained in her long-suffering bag; this she presented to theGeneral with her prettiest courtesy, andhe vowed he was not worthy to tastesuch delicacies from such a hand. So,with interchange of compliments, andwith a real friendliness that was farbetter, the little feast went on gaily; andwhen, late in the evening, Ritawithdrew to her tent, she told Manuelathat 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 yousay when your eyes, those calm grayeyes, rest upon the above heading Willthey open wider, I ask myself Will thebreath come quicker between thosecool rose-leaves of your lips "It istrue!" you will murmur to yourself.

"She has done as she said, as she sworeshe would. My Rita, my wildpomegranate flower, has kept her vow;she is in the mountains with Carlos; shehas taken her place beside thedefenders of her country."

Ah! you thought it was play, Marguerite,confess it! You thought the wild Cubangirl was uttering empty breath ofnothingness; you have had no realanxiety, you never dreamed that Ishould really find myself where now Iam. Where is it Listen, Marguerite! Myhouse once Carlos's house, now mineby his brotherly gift stands in a littleglen of the hills. An open space, oncedry grass, now bare earth, baked by the

sun, trodden by many feet; a cluster ofpalms, a mountain spring gushing froma rock hard by; on every side hills, thebrown, rugged hills of Cuba, fairer tome than cloudy Alps of Italy, or thoseother great mountains of which nevercan I remember the barbarous names.To teach me geography, Marguerite, younever could succeed, you willremember; more than our poor Peggyhistory. Poor little Peggy! I could wishshe were here with me; it would be thegreatest pleasure of her life. For you,Marguerite, the scene is too wild, toostern; but Peggy has a martial spiritunder her somewhat clumsy exterior.But I wander, and Peggy is withoutdoubt sleeping at this moment under

the stern eye of her schoolmistress. Ibegan to tell you about my house,Marguerite. So small a house you sawnever. Standing, I reach up my handand touch the roof, of brown canvas,less fresh than once it was. Sitting, Istretch out my arms here is one wall;there almost, but a few feet between isthe other. In a corner my bed ah,Marguerite! on your white couch there,with snowy draperies falling softlyabout you, consider my bed! a pile ofdried grasses and leaves, shaken andtossed anew every morning, coveredwith a camp blanket. I tell you, thegods might sleep on it, and ask nobetter. In another corner sleepsManuela, my faithful maid, my humble

friend, the companion of mywanderings. Some day you shall seeManuela; she is an excellent creature.Cultivated, no; intellinctual what is thatfor a word, Marguerite Ah! when willyou learn Spanish, that I may pour mysoul with freedom no; but a heart ofgold, a spirit of fire and crystal. Shekeeps my hut neat, she arranges mytoilet, singular toilets, my dear, yet notwholly unbecoming, I almost fancy, shehelps me in a thousand ways. She has alittle love-affair, that is a keen interest tome; Pepe, formerly the servant ofCarlos, adores her, and she casts tendereyes upon the young soldier. For me, asyou know, Marguerite, these things arefor ever past, buried in the grave of my

hero, in the stately tomb that hides theashes of the Santillos. I take asorrowful pleasure in watching thebudding happiness of these youngcreatures. More of this another time.

I sit, Marguerite, in the doorway of mylittle house. It is the middle hour of thenight, when tomb-yards gape, as yourShakespeare says. Am I sleepy No! Thecamp slumbers, but I I am awake, and Iwatch. I had a very long siesta, too. Themoon is full, and the little glade isbathed in silver light. Here in Cuba,Marguerite, the moon is other thanwith you in the north. You call her palemoon, gentle moon, I know not what.Here she shines fiercely, with passion,

with palpitations of fiery silver. Thepalms, the aloes, the tangled woodsabout the camp, are black as night; allelse is a flood of airy silver. I float, Iswim in this flood, entranced,enraptured. I ask myself, have I lived tillnow is not this the first real thrill of lifeI have ever experienced I alone wake, asI said; the others slumber profoundly.The General in his tent; ah, that youcould know him, Marguerite! that youand my uncle could embrace this noble,this godlike figure! He is no longeryoung, the snows of seventy wintershave blanched his clustering locks; it isthe 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 dieat his command. They are three, theseofficers; Carlos is one; the others, DonAlonzo 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 admiredformerly in Havana. I have danced withhim, my cousin, in halls of rose-wreathed marble; we meet here in thewilderness, I with my shatteredaffections, he with his country's namewritten on his soul. It is affecting; it isheart-stirring, Marguerite; yet thinknothing of it; romance is dead forMargarita Montfort. Carlos is my kindbrother, as ever. He was vexed at first at

my coming here. Heavens! what was Ito do My stepmother was dragging meto a convent; my days would have beenspent there, and in a short time my lifewould have gone out like a flame. "Out,short candle!" You see I remember yourShakespeare readings, my dearest. Can Iforget anything that recalls you to me,half of my heart If there had beentime, indeed, I might have written tomy uncle; I might even have come toyou; but the hour descended like athunderbolt; I fled, Manuela with me.The manner of my flight you will ask.Marguerite, it was managed I do notboast, I am the soul of humility, youknow 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 maynever see more I spoke with a certainrestraint, even an approach to mystery.It was thus. At first, when that womanproposed to take me to the convent, Iwas a creature distracted. The fire ofmadness burned in my veins, and Icould think of nothing save death orrevenge. But with time came reflection;came wisdom, Marguerite, andinflexible resolve. To those she loves,Margarita Montfort is wax, silk, down,anything the most soft and yielding thatcan be figured. To her enemies, steeland adamant are her composition. Ihad two friends in that house ofSpaniards; one was Pasquale, good,

faithful Pasquale, an under gardenerand helper; the other, Manuela, mymaid. I have described her to youenough! I realised that action must beof swiftness, the lightning flash, thevolcano fire that I predicted. Do notsay that I did not warn you, Marguerite;knowing me, you must have expectedfrom my last letter what must come. Icalled Manuela to my room, I madepretence that she should arrange myhair. My hair has grown three inches,Marguerite, since I left you; it nowveritably touches the floor as I sit. Ourholy religion tells us that it is a woman'scrown, yet how heavy a one at times! Iclosed the door, I locked it; I caused todraw 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 asound! dare but breathe, and you maybe my death. My life, I tell you, hangsby a thread. Hush! be silent, and tell meall. Tell me who assists Geronimo inthe stables since Pablo is ill." Manuelastruggles, she releases herself to reply

"Pasquale!"

It is the answer from heaven. Pasquale,I have said, is my one friend besideManuela. I say to her, "Do thus, andthus! give these orders to Pasquale; tellhim that it imports of your life andmine, saying nothing of his own; that

if I am not obeyed, the evil eye will bethe least of his punishments, and deathwithout the sacraments the end forhim."

Manuela hears; she trembles; she fliesto execute my commands. Then,Marguerite then, what does thedaughter of Cuba do She goes to thewall, to the trophy I have described toyou so often. She selects her weapons.Ah, if you could see them! First, a longslender dagger, the steel exquisitelyinlaid with gold, in a sheath of greenenamel; a dagger for a prince,Marguerite, for your Lancelot orTristram! Another, short and keen, theblade plain but deadly, cased in

wrought leather of Cordova. Last, mymachete, my pearl of destructiveness. Itwas his, my Santayana's; he procured itfrom Toledo, from the master sword-maker of the universe. The blade is sofine, the eye refuses to tell where itmelts into the air; a touch, and thehardest substance is divided exactly intwo pieces. The handle, gold, set withan ancestral emerald, which forcenturies has brought victory in thefield to the arm of the hero who woreit; the sheath I forget myself; thisweapon has no sheath. When a Santillode Santayana rides into battle, he has nothought 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 thenight. I go to my stepmother, I smile, Imake submission. I will do all shewishes; I am a child; her age impressesme with the truth that I should not setmy will against hers. Concepcion isthirty on her next birthday; she tells theworld that she is twenty, but I know! itgrinds her bones when I remind her ofher years, as they were revealed to me bya member of her family. So! She ispleased, we embrace, the volantes arecommanded, all goes smoothly. Idemand permission to take my parrotto the convent; it is, to my surprise,accorded; I know she thought thosesavage sisters would kill him the first

time he uttered his noble and inspiringwords.

The night comes, the hour of thedeparture. To accompany us goes mygood Don Miguel, the dear old man ofwhom I have told you, whom I revereas my grandfather. My heart yearns totell him all, to cast myself on hisvenerable bosom and cry, "Come withme; take me yourself to my brother;share with us the perils and glories ofthe tented field!" But no! he is old, thisdear friend; his hair is the snow, his stepis feeble. Hardships such as Rita mustnow endure would end his feeble life. Ispeak no word; a marble smile is all Iwear, though my heart is rent with

anguish. The carriages are at the door.Concepcion would have me ride in thefirst, that she may have her eyes on meat each instant. She suspects nothing,no; it is merely the base and suspiciousnature which reveals itself at everyoccasion. I refuse, I prodigateexpressions of my humility, of mydetermination to take the second place,leaving the first to her; briefly, I take thesecond volante, Manuela springing tomy side. After some discontent,appeased by dear Don Miguel, who isveritably an angel, and wants but deathto transport him among the saints,Concepcion mounts in the first volante.I have seen that Pasquale is on the boxof mine; I possess my soul, I lean back

and count the beats of my feveredpulse, as we ascend the steep road,winding among hills and forests. Theconvent is at the top of a long, longhill, very steep and rugged; the horsespant and strain; humanity demands thatthey slacken their pace, that thecarriages are slowly, slowly, drawn upthe rugged track. The night descends, Ihave told you, swiftly in our southernclimate; already it is dark. On either sideof the road are tall shrouded forms,which Manuela takes for sentinels, forSpanish soldiers drawn up to watch,perhaps to arrest us. I laugh; I see theyare the aloes only, planted here in rowsalong the road. Presently, at a turn ofthe road, a light! a fire burning by the

roadside, and soldiers running, realones this time, to the horses' heads."Alerta! quien va " It is the Spanishchallenge, Marguerite; it is a piquette ofthe Gringos, of the hated Spaniards.They peer into the carriages, faces ofsavages, of brutes, devils; I feel theirglances like poisoned arrows. Theydemand, Don Miguel makes answer,shows his papers. Of the instant theseslaves are cringing, are bowing to theearth. "Pass, most honourable andillustrious Senor Don Miguel Pietoso,with the heavenly ladies under yourcharge!" It is over. The volantes roll on.I clasp Manuela in my arms andwhisper, "We are free!" We mingle ourtears of rapture, but for a moment only.

We approach the steepest pitch of thelong hill (it is veritably a mountain), aplace beyond conception rugged anddifficult. The horses strain and tug; theyare at point of exhaustion. I look atPasquale; Pasquale has served me sincemy cradle. Does his head move, a verylittle, the least imaginable motion It istoo dark to see; the moon is not yetrisen. But I feel the horses checked, Ifeel the carriage pause, an instant, abreath only. I step noiselessly to theground; the volante is low, permittingthis without danger. Manuela follows.There is not a sound, not a creak, notthe rustle of a fold. Again it is over.The volante rolls on. Manuela and I arealone, are free in the mountains of

Cuba Libre.

I have but one thought: my country, mybrother! Behold me here, in the societyof one, prepared to shed my blood forthe other. You would never guess whoelse is with us; Chiquito, our poor oldfriend the parrot, the sacred legacy ofthat white saint, our departed aunt.Could I leave him behind, tounfriendly, perhaps murderous, handsOld Julio is a Spaniard at heart;Chiquito is a Cuban bird; his very souldo you doubt that a bird has a soul,when I tell you that I have seen it in hiseyes, Marguerite his very soul speaks forhis country. If you could hear him cry,"Viva Cuba Libre!" The camp is on fire

when they hear him. Ah, they are suchbrave fellows, our soldiers! poor, inrags, half-fed it matters not! each one isa hero, and all are my brothers.Marguerite, sleep hangs at last upon me.Good-night, beloved; good-night, coolwhite soul of ivory and silver. I lovethee always devotedly. Have no fear forme. It is true that the Spaniards are allabout us in these mountains, that at anymoment we may be attacked. What ofthat If the daughter of Cuba dies byher brother's side, in her country'scause, my Marguerite will know that itis well with her. You will shed a tearover the lonely grave among the Cubanhills; but you will plant a wreath forRita, a wreath of mingled laurel and

immortelle, and it will bloom eternally.

Ever, and with a thousand greetings tomy honoured and admired uncle, your

MARGARITA DE SAN REALMONTFORT.

CHAPTER VI.

IN THE NIGHT.

Rita drew a long breath as she foldedher letter. She was in a fine glow ofmingled 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 milesaway. Now she really must go to bed. Itwas one o'clock, her watch told her. Itseemed wicked, profane, to sleep undersuch moonlight as this; but still, thebody must be preserved.

"But first," she said to herself, "I musthave a drop of water; writing so longhas made me thirsty."

She took up the earthen water-jar, butfound it empty. Pepe had for once beenfaithless; indeed, neither he norManuela had escaped the witchery ofthe full moon, and she had had littlegood of them that whole evening. She

glanced at the corner where Manuelalay; the light, regular breathing told thatthe girl was sound asleep. It would be apity to wake her from her first sweetsleep, poor Manuela. A year, perhaps amonth ago, Rita would not havehesitated an instant; but now shemurmured, "Sleep, little one! I myselfwill fetch the water."

She stepped out into the moonlight,with the jar in her hand. All was still assleep itself. No sound or motion fromhuts or tent. Under the palms lay anumber of brown bundles, motionless.Dry leaves, piled together for burningno! soldiers of Cuba, wrapped in suchcovering as they could find, taking their

rest. Alone, beside a little heap of twigsthat still smouldered, the sentry sat; hisback was turned to her. Should shespeak to him, and ask him to go to thespring for her No; how much moreinteresting to go herself! Everythinglooked so different in this magic light;it was a whole new world, the moon'sfairyland; who knew what wonderfulsights might meet her eyes Besides, herold nurse used to say that water drawnfrom a pure spring under the full moonproduced a matchless purity of thecomplexion. Her complexion was wellenough, perhaps, but still and anyhow,it would be an adventure, howeversmall a one.

The girl's feet, in their soft leatherslippers, made no sound on the bareearth. The sentry did not turn his head.Silent as a cloud, she stole across thelittle glade, and passed under the treesat the farther end. Here the groundbroke off suddenly in a rocky pitch,down which one scrambled to anothervalley or glen lying some hundred feetlower; the cliff (for it was steep enoughto merit that name) was mostly barerock, but here and there a little earthhad caught and lodged, and a few seedshad dropped, and a tuft of grass or alittle tree had sprung up, defying thegulf below. A few feet only from theupper level, just below a group ofpalms that nodded over the brink, the

stream gushed out from the face of therock, clear and cold. The soldiers hadhollowed a little trough to receive thetrickling stream, and one had only tohold one's pitcher under this spout fora few minutes, to have it filled withdelicious water. Rita had often comehither in the daytime, during the weekthat had now passed since her arrival atthe mountain camp. It was a wild andpicturesque scene at any time, but nowthe effect of the intense white light,falling on splintered rock, hanging tree,and glancing stream was magicalindeed. Rita lay down on her face at theedge of the precipice, as she had seenthe soldiers do, and lowered her jarcarefully. As the water gurgled placidly

into the jar, her eyes roved here andthere, taking in every detail of themarvellous scene before her. Never, shethought, had she seen anything sobeautiful, so unearthly in its loveliness.Peace! silver peace, and silence, thesilence of hark! what was that

A crack, as of a twig breaking; arustling, far below in the gorge; ashuffling sound, as of soft shod feetpressing the soft earth. Rita crouchedflat to the ground, and, leaning over asfar as she dared, peered over theprecipice. The bottom of the gorge wasfilled with a mass of tall grasses andfeathery blossoming shrubs, with hereand there a tree rising tall and straight.

The leaves were black as jet in thestrong light. Gazing intently, she sawthe branches tremble, wave, separate;and against the dark leaves shone agleam of metal, that moved, and camenearer. Another and yet another; andnow she could see the dark faces, andthe moon shone on the barrels of thecarbines, and made them glitter likesilver.

Swiftly and noiselessly the girl drewback from the brink, crouching in thegrass till she reached the shadow of thegrove. Then she rose to her feet, stillholding her jar of water carefully, forthere was no need of wasting that, andran for her life.

A whispered word to the sentry, whosprang quickly enough from his reveriebeside the fire; then to the General'stent, then to Carlos, with the samewhispered message. "The Gringos arehere! Wake, for the love of Heaven!"

In another moment the little glade wasalive with dusky figures, springing fromtheir beds of moss and leaves,snatching their arms, fumbling forcartridges. The General was alreadyamong them. Carlos and the otherofficers came running, buckling theirsword-belts, rubbing their eyes.

"Where are they " all were asking in

excited whispers. "Who saw them Is itanother nightmare of Pepe's "

"No! no!" murmured Rita. "I saw them,I tell you! I saw their faces in themoonlight. I went to get some water.They are climbing up the cliff. I did notstop to count, but there must be manyof them, from the sound of their feet.Oh, make haste, make haste!"

The General gave his orders in a low,emphatic tone. Twenty men, withCarlos at their head, glided likeshadows across the glade, anddisappeared among the trees. Rita'sbreath came quick, and she prepared tofollow; but the old General laid a kind

hand on her arm. "No, my child!" hesaid. "You have done your country agreat service this night. Do not imperilyour life needlessly. Go rather to yourroom, and pray for your brother andfor us all."

But prayer was far from Rita's thoughtsat that moment. "Dear General," sheimplored, with clasped hands, the tearsstarting to her eyes, "Let me go! let mego! I implore you! I will pray afterward,I truly will. I will pray while I amfighting, if you will only let me go. See!I have come all this way to fight for mycountry; and must I stay away from thefirst battle Look, dear Senor General!Look at my machete! Isn't it beautiful it

is the sword of a hero; I must use it forhim. Let me go!" The beautiful face,upturned in the moonlight, the darkeyes shining through their tears, mighthave softened a harder heart than thatof General Sevillo. He opened his lipsto reply, his fatherly hand still on herarm, when suddenly a sharp report washeard. A single shot, then a volley, theshots rattling out, struck back and forthfrom cliff to cliff, multiplying inhideous echoes. Then broke out criesand groans; the crash of heavy bodiesfalling back among the trees below, andshouts of "Viva Cuba;" and still theshots rang out, and still the echoescracked and snapped. Rita turned paleas death, and clasped her hands on her

bosom. "Ah! Dios!" she cried. "I hadforgotten; there will be blood!" andrushing into her hut, she flung herselfface downward on her leafy bed.

The perplexed General looked after herfor a moment, pulling his grizzledmoustache. "Caramba!" he muttered."To understand these femininesDecidedly, this charming child must besent into safety to-morrow." Andshaking his head and shrugging hisshoulders, he strode in the direction ofthe firing.

Ten minutes' sharp fighting, and theskirmish was over. The Spanish"guerilla" was scattered, many of the

guerilleros lying dead or wounded atthe foot of the precipice, the othersscrambling and tumbling down as bestthey might. Carlos and his men had sogreatly the advantage in position, if notin numbers, that not a single Cubanwas killed, though two or three weremore or less seriously wounded.Among these was the unfortunatePedro Valdez, who had only thatevening returned to camp, having lefthis child and his old mother in a placeof safety. His wife had been allowed toremain for a short time in camp, at therequest of the surgeon, as she had hadsome experience in nursing. Now hewas shot in the arm, and his comradeslifted him gently, and carried him back.

His wife was waiting for him. Sheseemed to have expected something ofthe kind, for she made no outcry; shefollowed quietly to the clump of treesdistant a little way from the rest of thecamp, where good Doctor Ferrandohad the solitary rancho, the case ofsurgical instruments and the few rollsof bandages that constituted his fieldhospital. A rough table had beenknocked together for operations;otherwise the sick and wounded faredmuch as the rest did, sleeping on bedsof leaves and dry grass, and fighting themosquitoes as best they might. Here thebearers laid Pedro down, and Dolorestook her place quietly at his side,fanning away the insects that hovered

in clouds about the wounded man,holding the poor arm while the doctordressed it, and behaving as if her lifehad been spent in a hospital.

Doctor Ferrando spoke a few words ofapproval, but the woman heeded themlittle; it was a matter of course thatwhere there was suffering, she shouldbe at work. So, when Pedro presentlydropped off to sleep, she moved softlyabout among the wounded men,smoothing a blanket here, changing aligature there, doing all with light, swiftfingers whose touch healed instead ofhurting.

She was sitting beside a lad, the last to

be brought in from the scene of theskirmish, when the screen of bushes bythe rancho was parted, and Ritaappeared. Slowly and timidly she drewnear; her face was like marble; her eyeslooked unnaturally large and dark.Dolores made a motion to rise, but agesture bade her keep her place.

"Hush!" said the young girl. "Sit still,Dolores! I have come to to learn!"

"To learn, senorita " repeated thewoman, humbly. The senorita was inher grateful eyes a heaven-descendedbeing, whose every look and word mustbe law; this new bearing amazed andpuzzled her.

"What can this poor soul teach thenoble and high-born lady " she asked,sadly. "I know nothing, not even toread; I am a poor woman merely. Thesenor doctor is this moment gone totake his distinguished siesta; do I callhim for the senorita "

Rita shook her head, and crept nearer,gazing with wide eyes of fear at theprostrate form beside which Doloreswas sitting.

"See, Dolores!" she said; and her tonewas as humble as the woman's own. "I

must learn to take care of him ofthem!" She nodded at the sufferer. "Allmy life, you see, I could never bear thesight of blood. To cut my finger, Ifainted at the instant. Always they said,'Poor child! it is her delicacy, hersensibility;' they praised me; I thought ita fine thing, to faint, to turn pale at theword even. Now oh, Dolores, do yousee I desire to help my country, mybrother, all the heroes who are riskingtheir life, are shedding their their bloodfor Cuba. I think I can fight; I forget; Isee only the bright shining blades, thevictorious banners; I forget that theseheroes must bleed, that this horribleblood must flow in streams, in torrents,that oceans of it must overwhelm us,

the defenders of my country. Ay de mi! Ibegged the General even now to let mefight, to let me stand beside my Carlos,and wield my beautiful machete.Suddenly, Dolores I heard the shots; Iheard terrible sounds! screams oh,Dios! screams of men, perhaps of myown brother, in anguish. All at once itcame over me I cannot tell you I saw itall, the blood, the wounds, the horrorto death. I awoke from my dreams; Iwas a child, do you see, Dolores I was achild, playing at war, and thinkingthinking the thoughts of a silly, sillychild. Now I am awake; now I knowwhat what war means. So I am foolish,but I can learn; I think I can learn. Youare a brave woman; I have been

watching you through the leaves forhalf an hour. I saw you I saw youchange those cloths; those terriblebloody cloths on that poor man's head.At first my eyes turned round, I sawblack only; but I opened them again, Ifixed them on what you held, Iwatched. Now I can bear quite well tolook at it. Help me, Dolores! teach meto help as you help; teach me to care forthese brothers, as you do."

Dolores looked earnestly in thebeautiful young face. In spite of thedeadly pallor, she saw that the girl wasfully herself, was calm and determined.With a simple, noble gesture she liftedRita's slender hand to her lips, saying

merely: "This hand shall bring blessingto many! come, my senorita, and see! itis so easy, when once one knows theway of it."

Very gently the poor peasant's wifeshowed the rich man's daughter the AB C of woman's work among the sickand suffering. At first Rita could dolittle more than control her own nerves,and fight down the faintness that camecreeping over her at sight of thebandaged faces, ghastly under thebrown, of the torn flesh and nervelesslimbs. Gradually, however, she began togain strength. The rough brown handmoved so easily, so lightly; it laid holdof those terrible bandages as if they

were mere ordinary bits of linen. Surelynow, she, Rita, could do that too. AsDolores took a cloth from herhusband's head, the girl's hand wasoutstretched, took it quietly, andhanded a fresh one to the nurse. Thecloth she took was covered with redstains. For a moment Rita's head swam,and the world seemed to turn darkbefore her eyes; but she held the thingfirmly, till her sight cleared again; thendropped it in the tub of water thatstood ready, and taking up the fan ofgreen palm-leaf, swept it steadily to andfro, driving the clouds of flies andmosquitoes away from the sufferer.

Coming back from his siesta half an

hour later, good Doctor Ferrandopaused a moment at the entrance of thehospital grove. There were two nursesnow; the good man gazed inastonishment at the slender figurekneeling beside one of the rough cots,fanning the wounded man, and singingin a low, sweet voice, a song of Cuba.Several of the men were awake, andgazing at her with delight. Dolores,with a look of quiet happiness on herface, sat beside the bed where herhusband was sleeping peacefully."Come!" said the doctor, "war, after all,has its beauty as well as its terror.Observe this heavenly sight, youbenevolent saints!" he waved his cigarupward, inviting the attention of all

attendant spirits. "Consider this lovelychild, awakened to the holiness ofwomanhood! and the General willdestroy all this to-morrow, from respectfor worldly conventions! He is withoutdoubt right; yet, what a pity!"

CHAPTER VII.

CAMP SCENE.

"If I must, dear Senor General I will begood, I will, indeed; but my heart willbreak 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 camewith you, Senorita Margarita.Nevertheless, duty is duty; I should bewanting in mine, most wofully andwickedly wanting, if I allowed you toremain here, in hourly danger, when afew hours could place you incomparative safety. Perfect safety, I donot promise. Where shall we find it,even for our nearest and dearest, in thispoor distracted country But with DonAnnunzio and his family you will besafe at least for a time; whereas here "The General looked around, andshrugged his shoulders, spreading hishands out with a dramatic gesture. "The

Gringos have learned the way to ourmountain camp; they will not forget it.Another attack may come any night;our camp is an outpost, placed ofpurpose to guard this position, whichmust of necessity be one of danger. Tohave women with us it is not onlyexposing them to the terriblepossibilities of war, but "

He paused. "I see!" cried Rita. "I see!you are too kind to say it, but we are aburden upon you. We make harder thework; we are an encumbrance. DearSenor 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 mycountry's defenders; never! Too long we

have stayed already; Manuela shall makeon the instant our packets, and in alittle hour you shall forget that we werehere at all."

The good General cried out, "No! no!my dear child, my dear senorita; ceasethese words, I implore you. You cut meto the heart. Consider the help that youhave brought to us; consider thenursing, the tender care that you andthe wife of Valdez have given to oursufferers, in the rancho there. Never willthis be forgotten, rest assured of that.But it is true that you must go; yet nottoo soon. This evening, when thecoolness falls, Don Carlos, with achosen escort, will conduct you to the

residence of Don Annunzio. There, Irejoice to think that you will find, notluxury, but at least some few of thecomforts of ordinary life. Here youhave suffered; your lofty spirit will notconfess it, but you have you must havesuffered, delicate and fragile as you are,in the rough life of a Cuban camp.Enough! The day is before you, dearestsenorita. I pray you, while it lasts, makeuse of me, of all that the campcontains, in whatever way you canimagine. I would make the day apleasant one, if I might. Command me,dear senorita, in anything andeverything. The camp is yours, with allit contains."

He bowed with courtly grace, and Ritacourtsied and then turned quickly away,to hide the tears that would come inspite of her. It was a keendisappointment. When Carlos told herthat morning that she must leave thecamp, she had refused pointblank. Astormy scene followed, in which theold Rita was only too much inevidence. She raged, she wept, shestamped her little foot. She was aCuban, as much as he was; she was anurse, a daughter of the army; nohuman power should drive her fromthe ground where she was prepared toshed her last drop of blood for thedefenders of her country. Now a fewkind, grave words from a gray-haired

man, and all was changed. She was nota necessity, she was a hindrance; shesaw that this must be so; the pain wassharp, but she would not show it; shewould never again lose her self-control,never. Carlos should see that she wasno longer a child. He had called her achild, not half an hour ago, a naughtychild, who was making trouble foreverybody. Well Rita stood still; thethought came over her suddenly, it wastrue! she had been childish, had beennaughty. Suppose Margaret or Peggyshould behave so, stamping andstorming; how would it seem Oh, well,that was different. Their blood wascool, almost cold. It flowed sluggishlyin their veins. She was a child of the

South; it was not to be expected thatshe should be like Margaret. Yes! butthe thought would come, troubling allher mind; suppose Margaret were here,with her calm sense, her cheerful face,and tranquil voice; would not she be ofmore use, of more help, than a girl whocould not help screaming when she wasin a passion

These thoughts were new to RitaMontfort. Full of them, she walkedslowly to her hut, with bent head, andeyes full of unshed tears. Meanwhile,the good General went back to his tent,where Carlos awaited him with someanxiety.

"Well " he asked, as the gray head bentunder the tent-flaps.

"Well," responded his commander. "Itis very well, my son. The senorita she isadorable, do you know it Never have Iseen a more lovely young person! Thesenorita is most reasonable. Shecomprehends; she understands thedesolation that it is to me to send awayso delightful a visitor; nevertheless sheaccepts all, with her own exquisitegrace."

Carlos shrugged his shoulders; thatsame exquisite grace had flashed adagger in his eyes not ten minutesbefore, vowing that it should be

sheathed in the owner's heart beforeshe left the camp; but it was notnecessary to say this to the General.Carlos was an affectionate brother, andwas honestly relieved and glad to findthat Rita had come to her senses. Hethanked General Sevillo warmly for hisgood offices, and, being off duty, wentin search of his sister, determining thathe would make her last day in camp apleasant one, so far as lay in his power.He found Rita sitting sadly in the doorof her hut, watching Manuela, who waspacking up their belongings,unwillingly enough. Manuela hadenjoyed her stay in camp greatly, andthought life would be very dull, incomparison, at Don Annunzio's

cottage; but there was no escape, andthe white silk blouse and theswansdown wrapper went into the bagwith all the other fineries.

"Come, Rita," said Carlos, taking hissister's hand affectionately; "come withme, and let me show you some thingsthat you have not yet seen. You mustnot forget the camp. Who knows Someday you may come back to pay us avisit."

Rita shook her head, and the tears cameto her eyes again; but she drove themback bravely, and smiled, and laid herhand in her brother's; and they passedout together among the palm-trees.

Manuela looked after them, and laidher hand on her heart; it was a gesturethat she had often seen her mistressuse, and it seemed to her infinitelytouching and beautiful. "Ohime," sighedManuela. "War is terrible, indeed! Tothink that we must go away, just whenwe are so comfortable. But where, then,is this idiot Pepe! When I call you, willyou come, animal Pepe!"

The thicket near the rancho rustled andshook, and Pepe appeared. This youngman presented a different figure fromthe forlorn one that had greeted thetwo girls on their first arrival at thecamp. His curly hair was now carefully

brushed and oiled. The scarlethandkerchief was still tied about hishead, but it was tied now with a gracethat might have done credit to the mostdandified 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 thatshe was the light of his eyes and theflower of his soul. He was nowbeginning some remarks of thisdescription, but Manuela interruptedhim, laying her pretty brown handunceremoniously on his lips.

"For once, Pepe, endeavour to possess

a small portion of sense," she said."Listen to me! We must leave thecamp."

"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, ofaddressing intelligent remarks to such acorporosity My mistress and I,simpleton. This General of yoursdrives us from his quarters; hebegrudges the morsel we eat, the rudehut that shelters us. Enough! we go;even now I make preparation. Pull thisstrap for me, Pepe; at least you havestrength. Ah! If I were but a great

stupid man, it would be well with methis day!"

"But well for no one else, my idol," saidPepe, tugging away at the strap."Desolation and despair for the rest ofmankind, Rose of the Antilles.Accidental death to this bag! why haveyou filled it so full There! it is strapped.Manuela, is it possible that I livewithout you No! I shall fall an easyvictim to the first fever that comes;already I feel it scorching my "

"Oh, a paralysis upon you! Can Iexercise my thoughts, with the chatterof 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 andfiery protestations, but was biddenperemptorily to shut it again.

"I desire now to hear myself speak,"said Manuela. "I weary, Pepe, for thesound of my own poor little voice.Listen, then! These days I have beenhere, and you have never asked mewhat 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, someother friend, some other good son ofCuba. I thought of you, I rememberedyou, even in the rush of our departure.

See! It is yours. May it bring youfortune!"

She handed him a little packet, neatlyfolded in white paper, and tied with acrimson ribbon. Receiving it withdramatic eagerness, Pepe opened it andlooked with delight at its contents.

"A detente!" he cried. "Manuela! and themost beautiful that has been seen uponthe earth. This is not for me! No!Impossible! The General alone isworthy to wear this object of anelegance so resplendent."

Reassured on this point, he proceededto pin the emblem on his jacket, and

contemplated it with delighted pride. Itwas a simple thing enough; a square ofwhite flannel the size of an ordinaryneedlebook, neatly scalloped aroundthe edge with white silk. In the centrewas embroidered a crimson heart, andunder 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 thesplendid city, think of the lonely soldier"

"Yes, I did," said Manuela, "when I hadnothing else to do. And now you maygo away, Pepe, I am busy; I cannot

attend to you any longer."

"But," said Pepe, bewildered, "youcalled me, Manuela."

"Yes; to strap my bag. It is done; Ithank you. It is finished."

"And you have given me the detente,moon of my soul!"

"Then you cannot complain that Inever gave you anything. And now Igive you one thing more, leave todepart. Adios, Don Pepe!" and sheactually shut the door of the hut in theface of her astonished adorer, whodeparted muttering strange things

concerning the changeableness of allwomen, and of Manuela in particular.

Meanwhile, Rita and Carlos werewandering about the camp, and Ritawas seeing, as her brother promised,some things that were new to her, evenafter a stay of nearly a week. She sawthe kitchen, or what passed for akitchen, a pleasant spot under a palm-tree, where the cook was even thentoasting long strips of meat over theparilla, a kind of gridiron, made bysimply driving four stakes, and layingbits 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, picturesqueand ragged, who was turning the stripswith a forked stick.

"Pardon, gracious senorita, it does burnup; not the first time, nor perhaps thesecond, 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 intothe fire when it breaks "

"Sufficiently often, most noble. What

of that It imparts a flavour of its own;one brushes off the ashes soldiers donot dine at the Hotel Royal, one mustobserve. May I offer the senorita a bitof this excellent beef This has notfallen 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 ofguarapo, the hospitable cook begged;and he hastened to bring her a cup ofpolished cocoanut shell, filled with thefavourite drink, which was simply hotwater with sugar dissolved in it. Ritatook the cup graciously, and drank tothe health of the camp, and to thefreedom of Cuba; the cook responded

with many bows and profuse thanksfor the honour she had done him, andthe brother and sister passed on.

"There are some good bananas nearhere," said Carlos; "little red ones, thekind you like, Rita. I'll fill a basket foryou to take with you; Don Annunzio'smay not be so good."

They were making their way through atangle of tall grass and young palm-trees, when suddenly Rita stopped, andlaid her hand on her brother's arm.

"Look!" she said. "Look yonder, Carlos!The grass moves."

"A snake, perhaps," said Carlos; "or aland-crab. Stand here a moment, and Iwill go forward and see."

He advanced, looking keenly at theclump of yellowish grass that Rita hadpointed out. Certainly, the grass didmove. It quivered, waved from side toside, then seemed to settle down, as ifan invisible hand were pulling it frombelow. Carlos drew his machete, andbent forward; whereupon a loud yellwas heard, and the clump of grass shotup 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 onoutpost duty. Have peace, Pablo! yourhour is not yet come."

"Caramba! I thought it was, my captain!"said the negro scout, grinning. "Betterbe a crab than a Cuban in these days."

He was a singular figure indeed. Fromhead to waist he was literally clothed ingrass, bunches of it being tied over hishead and round his neck andshoulders, falling to his thighs. A pairof ragged trousers of no particularcolour completed his costume. A moreperfect disguise could not be imagined;

indeed, except when he lifted his head,he was not to be distinguished from theclumps and tufts of dry grass all abouthim.

"Pablo is a good scout!" said Carlos,approvingly. "No Gringo couldpossibly see you till he stepped on you,Pablo; and then "

"And then!" said Pablo, grinning fromear to ear; and he drew his machete andwent through an expressive pantomimewhich, if carried out, would certainlyhave left very little of Gringo or anyone else.

"Is your post near here show it! The

senorita would like to see how a Cubanscout lives."

Pablo, a man of few words, gave apleased nod, and scuttled away throughthe bush, beckoning them to follow.Rita, stepping carefully along, holdingher brother's hand, kept her eyes on thescout for a few moments; then heseemed to melt into the rest of thegrass, and was gone. A few steps more,and they almost fell over him, as hisblack face popped up again, shakingback its grassy fringes.

"Behold the domicile of Pablo!" hesaid, with a magnificent gesture. "Theproperty, with all it contains, of the

senorita and the Senor Captain DonCarlos."

Brother and sister tried to lookbecomingly impressed as they surveyedthe domain. Close under a wavingpalm-tree a rag of brown canvas wasstretched on two sticks laid acrossupright branches stuck in the ground.Under this awning was space for a manto sit, or even to lie down, if he did notmind his feet being in the sun. A smalliron pot, hung on three sticks oversome blackened stones, showed wherethe householder did his cooking; aheap of leaves and grass answered forbed and pillows; this was the domicileof Pablo.

Breaking a twig from a neighbouringshrub, the scout bent over the pot, andspeared a plantain, which he offered toRita with grave courtesy. She took itwith equal dignity, thanking him withher most gracious smile, and ate itdaintily, praising its flavour and theperfection of its cooking till the goodnegro's face shone with pleasure.

"And you stay here alone, Pablo " sheasked. "How long you are not afraidNo, of course not that; you are asoldier. But lonely! is it not very lonelyhere, at night above all "

Pablo spread out his hands. "Senorita,

possibly if it were not for the crabs.These good souls they have thedisposition of a Christian! sit with me,in the intervals of their occupations,and are excellent company. They cannottalk, but that suits me very well. Then,there is always the chance of some onecoming by as to-day, when the BlessedVirgin sends the senorita and the SenorDon Carlos. Also at any moment thedevil may send me a Gringo; theirscouts are as plenty as scorpions. No,senorita, I am not lonely. It is a fine life!In a prison, you see, it would be quiteotherwise."

"But there are other ways of living,Pablo, beside scouting and going to

prison," said Rita, much amused.

"Without doubt! Without doubt!" saidPablo, cheerfully. "And assuredlyneither would befit the senorita. Mayshe live as happy as she is beautiful, thesun being black beside her. Adios,senorita; adios, Senor Captain DonCarlos!"

"Adios, good Pablo! good luck to youand your crabs!" and laughing andwaving a salute, they left the scoutnodding his grass-crowned head like atransformed mandarin, and went backto the camp.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE PACIFICOS.

A long, low adobe house, brilliantlywhite with plaster; a verandah withswinging hammocks; the inevitablegreen blinds; the inevitable cane andbanana patch; this was DonAnnunzio's. Don Annunzio Carrenohimself (to give him his full name foronce, though he seldom heard or usedit) sat in a large rocking-chair on theverandah, smoking. He was enormouslystout and supremely placid, and helooked the picture of peace andprosperity, in his spotless white suit and

broad-brimmed hat.

To Rita, weary after her ten miles' ridefrom the camp, the whole place seemeda page out of a picture-book. Her mindwas filled with rugged and startlingimages: the rude hospital, with itsghastly sights and homely thoughdevoted tendance; the ragged soldiers,with head or arm bound in bloodybandages; the camp fire and kitchen,the scout in his grassy panoply. Hereyes had grown accustomed to sightslike these, and the bright whiteness ofhouse and householder, the trim arrayof flower-beds and kitchen-garden,struck her as strange and artificial. Shefelt as if Don Annunzio ought to be

wound up from behind, and waswhimsically surprised to see him riseand come forward to meet them.

Carlos made his explanation, andpresented General Sevillo's letter. DonAnnunzio's hat was already in his handand he was bowing to Rita with all thegrace his size allowed; but now heimplored them to enter the house,which he declared he occupiedhenceforward only at their pleasure.

"If the senorita will graciouslydescend!" said the good man. "On theinstant I call my wife. Prudencia! Whereare you, then Visitors, Prudencia;visitors of distinction. Hasten quickly!"

A woman appeared in the doorway; talland lean, clad in brown calico, with asun-bonnet to match, but with apronand kerchief as snowy as DonAnnunzio's "ducks."

"For the land's sake!" said SenoraCarreno.

Rita looked up quickly.

"Visitors, my love!" Don Annunzioexplained rapidly, in good enoughEnglish. "The Senor Captain and theSenorita Montfort, bringing a notefrom his Excellency General Sevillo.The senorita will remain with us for

some days; I have placed all at herdisposal; I "

"There, Noonsey!" said the lady, notunkindly. "You set down, and let mesee what's goin' on."

She laid a powerful hand on herhusband's shoulder, and pushed himinto his chair again; then advanced tothe verandah steps, regarding thenewcomers with frank but cheerfulscrutiny.

"What's all this " she said. "Goodmornin'! Yes, it's a fine day. Won't youstep in "

Carlos told his story, and askedpermission for his sister and her maidto spend some days at the house untilsome permanent place could be foundfor her.

The senora considered with frowningbrows, not of anger but ofconsideration.

"Well," she said, "I did say I wouldn'ttake no more boarders. I had troublewith the last ones, and said I'd gotthrough accommodatin' folks. Still Idunno but we could manage does sheunderstand when she's spoke toEnglish, I mean "

"Yes, indeed, I do!" cried Rita, comingforward. "I am only half Cuban; it isgood to hear you speak. If you will letme stay, I will try to give little trouble.May I stay, please "

"Well, I guess you may!" cried the NewEngland woman. "You walk right inand lay off your things, and makeyourself to home. The idea! Why didn'tyou say why, it's as good as a meal o'victuals to hear you speak. Been to theStates, have you Well, now, if that don'tbeat all! Noonsey, you go and tell Josewe shall want them chickens forsupper. Set down, young man! Thisyour hired gal, dear Does she speakEnglish Well no, I s'pose not."

She said a few words to Manuela inSpanish which, if not melodious, wasintelligible, and then led Rita into thehouse, talking all the way.

"Here's the settin'-room; and here's thespare-room off'n it. There! lay yourthings on the bed, dear. I keep ontalkin', when all the time I want to hearyou talk. It is good to hear your nativespeech, say what they will. Husband, hedoes his best, to please me; but it's likeas 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 Englishwith her and her brother; of thesummer spent in the North with heruncle and cousins. "Oh," she said, "youare 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. "Idon't see as 'twould be any harm, and Ishould like dretful well to hear thename again. I was a widow when Imarried Don Noonzio. Yes'm. My firsthusband was captain of a fruitschooner. I voyaged with him

considerable. He died in Santiago, and Inever went back home: I couldn't seemto. I washed and sewed for families Iknew, and then bumbye I married DonNoonzio. 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 doif 'twa'n't for my settin'-room. Did younotice it, comin' through I just go thereand set sometimes, and look round,and cry. It does me a sight o' good."

Rita had indeed glanced around thesitting-room as she passed through it,but it said nothing to her. The sixhaircloth chairs, the marble-toppedcentre-table with its wool and bead mat,

its glass lamp with the red wick, itsphotograph-album and gilt familyBible, did not speak her language.Neither did the mantelpiece, with itstwo china poodles and its bunches ofdried grasses in vases of red and whiteBohemian glass. The Cuban girl couldnot know how eloquent were all thesethings to the exiled Vermont woman;but she looked sympathetic, and felt so,her heart warming to the homely soul,with her rugged speech and awkwardgestures.

Marm Prudence now insisted that herguest must be tired, and brought out asuperb quilt, powdered with red andblue stars, to tuck her up under; but

word came that Captain Montfort wasgoing, and Rita hurried out to theverandah to bid him farewell. Carlostook her in his arms, affectionately."How is it, then, little sister " he asked."Are you reconciled at all Can you stayhere in peace a little, with these goodpeople "

Rita returned his caress heartily. "Youwere right, Carlos!" she said. "You andthe dear General were both right. It waswonderful to be there in camp; I shallnever forget it; I hope I shall be betterall my life for it; but I could not havestayed long, I see that now. Here I shallbe taken care of; here I shall rest, asunder a grandmother's care. This good

Marm Prudence, that is what I am tocall her, Carlos, already I love her,already she tends me as a bird tends heryoung. Ah, Carlos, you will not neglectChico I leave him as a sacred legacy.The men implored me so. They said thebird had brought them good fortuneonce, and would be their salvationagain; I had not the heart to take himfrom them. You will see that they donot feed him too much Already he hashad a fit of illness from too muchkindness on the part of our faithfulsoldiers. Thank you! and have nothought of me, my brother; all will bewell with me. Return to your gloriousduty, son of Cuba. It may be that evenhere, in this peaceful spot, it may be

given to your Rita to serve the motherwe both adore. Adios, Carlos! Heavenbe with thee!"

Carlos, who was of a practical turn ofmind, was always uncomfortable whenRita spread her rhetorical wings. He didnot see why she could not speak plainEnglish. But he kissed heraffectionately, heartily glad that hecould leave her content with hersurroundings; and with a cordialfarewell to the good people of thehouse, he rode away, followed by hisclanking orderlies, leading the horseRita had ridden.

While all this had been going on,

Manuela had been arranging hermistress's things; shaking out thecrumpled dresses, brushing off the bitsof grass and broken straw that clung tohem and ruffle, mementoes of the daysin camp. Manuela sighed over theserelics, and shook her head mournfully.

"Poor Pepe!" she said. "If only he doesnot fall into a fever from grief! Ah, loveis a terrible thing! Dios! what a rent inthe senorita's serge skirt! A paralysis onthe brambles in that place! yet it was agood place. At least there was life. Oneheard voices, neighing of horses,jingling of stirrups. Here we shall growinto two young cabbages beside thatold one, my senorita and her poor

Manuela. Ah, life is very sad!"

Here Manuela chanced to look out ofthe window, and saw a handsomeCreole boy leading a horse to water inthe courtyard. Instantly her face lightedup. She flew to the looking-glass, andwas arranging her hair with passionateeagerness, when the door opened, andRita entered, followed by their kindhostess. Manuela started, then turnedto drop a demure courtsey. "I wasexamining the glass," she explained, "tosee if it was fit for the senorita to use.These common mirrors, youunderstand, they draw the countenancethis way, that way, " she expressed hermeaning in vivid pantomime, "one

thinks one's visage of caoutchouc. Butthis is passable; I assure you, senorita,passable."

"Well, I declare!" said Marm Prudence."My best looking-glass, that I broughtfrom Chelsea, Massachusetts, when Iwas first married! If it ain't goodenough for you, young woman, you'refree to do without it, and so I tell you."

She spoke with some severity, butsoftened instantly as she turned to Rita."Now you'll lie down and rest you aspell, won't you, dear " she said. "I mustgo and see about supper, and I sha'n'tbe satisfied till I see you tucked upunder my 'Old Glory spread.' That's

what I call it; it has the colours, you see.There! comfortable Now you shut yourpretty eyes, and have a good sleep. Andyou," she added, turning to Manuela,"can come and help me a spell, ifyou've nothing better to do. I'm short-handed; help is turrible skurce in war-time, and I can keep you out of Satan'shands, if nothing else."

CHAPTER IX.

IN HIDING.

"You busy, Miss Margaritty "

It was Marm Prudence's voice, and atthe sound Rita opened her doorquickly. She and Manuela had beenholding a mournful consultation overthe state of her wardrobe, which hadhad rough usage during the past twoweeks, and she was glad of aninterruption.

"I thought mebbe you'd like to comeand set with me a spell while I worked."

"Oh, yes!" cried Rita, eagerly. "And mayI not work, too Isn't there something Ican do to help "

"Why, I should be pleased!" said thegood woman. "I'm braidin' hats for the

soldiers. I promised a dozen to-morrow night. It's pretty work; mebbeyou'd like to try."

"For the soldiers For our soldiers Oh,what joy, Marm Prudencia! No,Prudence, you like better that. Showme, please! I burn to begin."

"Why, you're real eager, ain't you " saidMarm Prudence. "Now I'm glad Ispoke; I thought mebbe 'twould suityou. Young folks like to be atsomething."

In a few minutes the two were seatedon the cool inner verandah, looking outon the garden, with a great basket

between them, heaped with delicatestrips of palmetto leaf, white andsmooth.

"Husband, he whittles 'em for me,"Marm Prudence explained. "It'soccupation for him. Fleshy as he is, hecan't get about none too much, and thiskeeps his hands busy. It's hard to be aman and lose the activity of your limbs.But there! there's compensations, Ialways say. If Noonsey was as he wasten years ago, he'd be off with the rest,and then where'd I be "

"Then" Rita's eyes flashed, and she bentnearer her hostess, and spoke low."Then you are not at heart pacificos,

Marm Prudence. On the surface, Iunderstand, I comprehend, it isnecessary; but au fond, in your secrethearts, 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 fivegenerations back. We don't have nodealin's with the Gringos, more thanwe're obleeged to. Livin' right close t'the road as we do, we can't let out theway we feel, but I guess there's mightyfew Mambis about here but knowswhere to come when they want things.There ain't many so bold as yourbrother, to come in open daylight, but

come night, they're often as thick asbats about the garden here. There! Ihave to shoo' em off sometimes; yet Ilike to have 'em, too."

Rita's face glowed with excitement."Oh, Marm Prudence," she cried; "howglorious! Oh, what fortune, what joy, tobe here with you! We will worktogether; we will toil; our blood shallflow in fountains, if it is needed.Embrace me, mother of Cuba!"

Marm Prudence put on her spectacles,and surveyed the excited girl with someanxiety.

"Let me feel your pult, dear!" she said,

soothingly. "You got a touch o' sun,like as not, riding in that heat thismorning. Now there's no call to getworked up, or talk about blood-sheddin'. Blood-sheddin' ain't in ourline, yours nor mine, nor husband'sneither. Fur as doin' goes, we're allpacificos here, Miss Margaritty, and youmustn't forget that. Just wait a minute,and I'll go and git you a cup of mybalm-tea; 'tis real steadyin' to the nerves,and I expect yours is strung up somewith all you've be'n through."

Rita protested that she was perfectlywell, and not at all excited; but shesubmitted, and drank the balm-teameekly, as it was cold and refreshing.

"It is my ardent nature!" she explained."It is the fire of my patriotism whichconsumes me. Do you not feel it, MarmPrudence, oftentimes, like a flame inyour bosom "

No, Marm Prudence was not aware thatshe did. Things took folks different,she said, placidly. She had an aunt whenshe was a little gal, that used to havespasms reg'lar every time she heard thebaker's cart. Some thought she had hadhopes of the baker before he married awidow woman, but you couldn't alwaysaccount for these things. What a prettybraid Rita was getting!

Indeed, the work suited Rita's nimblefingers to perfection, and yard afteryard of snowy braid rolled over her lapand grew into a pile at her feet. She waseager to make her first hat. After anhour or two of braiding, shediscovered that it suited Manuela'sgenius better than her own. The basketof splints was turned over to thewilling handmaiden, and good-naturedMarm Prudence showed Rita how tosew the braids together smooth andflat, and initiated her into the mysteriesof crown and brim. In a creditablyshort space of time, Rita, with infinitepride, held her first hat aloft, and

twirled it round and round on herfinger.

"But, it is perfect!" she cried. "Theshape, the colour, the air of it. Manuela,quick! a mirror! hold it for me so!look!" She took the ribbon from herbelt, and began to twist it in onecoquettish knot after another about thehat, which she had set on her dark hair.

"Is that chic Is it adorable, I ask you Wassuch a hat ever seen in Paris Never! Iwear no other from this day on; hearme swear it! It will become the rage; Iwill make it so. Or no! I will keep tomyself the secret, and others will die ofenvy. I name it, Manuela. The

Prudencia, for thee, my kind hostess.Why do you laugh "

Marm Prudence was twinkling in herquiet way. "I was only thinkin' there'dhave to be one soldier boy go withouthis 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 fromher head.

"Ah!" she cried, casting it on the floor."Wretch, ingrate, serpent that I am! Takeaway the glass, girl! take it away; break itinto a thousand pieces, to shame myvanity, and never speak to me of hats

again. Henceforward I tie a shawl overmy head, for the remainder of my life; Ihave said it."

Much depressed, she worked away insilence, as if her life depended upon it.Manuela, shrugging her shoulders,carried off the glass, but did not thinkit necessary to obey the injunction tobreak it. She was used to her senorita'soutbreaks, and returned placidly to herbraiding as if nothing had happened.

The good hostess regarded her prettyvisitor with some alarm, mingled withamusement and admiration. She mighthave her hands full, she thought, if sheattempted to keep this young lady

occupied, and out of mischief. Thetime when she was asleep was likely tobe the most peaceful time in CasaAnnunzio. Yet how pretty she was! andwhat a pleasure it was to hear her speak,something between a bird and a flute.On the whole, Marm Prudence thoughther coming a thing to be thankful for.

Talking with Don Annunzio himselfthat evening, Rita found him far lessguarded than his wife in his expressionof patriotic zeal. He echoed her saying,that every Mambi in the country knewwhere to come when he wantedanything; and he went on to draw luridpictures of what he would do to theGringos if he but had the power.

"See, senorita!" he said, in his wheezy,asthmatic voice. "I am powerless, am Inot Already of a certain age, I amafflicted with an accession of flesh;moreover, I am short of breath, owingto this apoplexy of an asthma. Worsethan this, my legs, if the senorita canpardon the allusion, refuse now thesetwo years to do their office. With twosticks, I can hobble about the houseand garden; without them, behold me afixture. How, then When the war breaksout, I go to my General, to GeneralSevillo, under whom I served in the tenyears' war. I say to him, 'Things are thusand thus with me, but still I wouldserve my country. Give me a horse, and

let me ride with you as an orderly.' Alas!it may not be. 'Annunzio,' he says, 'yourday of service in the field is over. Stayat home, and help our men when theycall upon you. Thus you can do moregood ten-fold than you could do in thesaddle.'

"Ohime! my heart is broken; it isreduced to powder, but what will youreason, joined to authority, I am but asimple man, and I obey. Since then, I sitand whittle splints for my admirablewife. A woman, senorita, to rule anation! The Gringos pass by, and seeme working at my trade. I greet themcivilly, I supply requisitions whenbacked by authority; again, what will

you I suffer in silence till their back isturned, and my maledictionsaccompany them along the road. Ah! ifnone of them had longer life than Iwish him, the road would beencumbered with corpses. Then, drawyour chair nearer, senorita, if you willhave the infinite graciousness, then, atnight it may be this very night theothers come. Hush! yes the Mambis; thesons of Cuba. Quietly, by ones, bytwos, they appear, dropping from thesky, rising from the earth. Then ha!then, you shall see. Not a word more,Senorita Margarita! Donna Prudencia isa pearl, an empress among women, butrightly named; she complains that I talktoo much on these subjects. But when

one's heart is in the field, and one's legsrefuse to follow, again, what would youNo matter! silence is golden! Wait but alittle, and you shall see. Who knows Itmay be this very night."

Thus Don Annunzio, with many nodsand winks, and gestures of dramaticcaution. His words fanned the flame ofRita's zeal, and she longed for one ofthe promised nocturnal visits. Thatnight and the next she was constantlywaking, listening for a whisper, theclank of a chain, the jingle of a spur;but none came, and the nights passedas peacefully as the days. The dozen,and more, were completed; and then, inspite of her vow, Rita found time to

make one for herself, certainly as prettya hat as heart could desire. So pretty,Rita thought it a thousand pities thatthere was no one beside DonAnnunzio and Marm Prudence to seeher in it. She sighed, and thought ofthe camp among the hills, of Carlosand the General, and Don Uberto.

One day, soon after noon, MarmPrudence asked Rita if she would liketo take a walk with her. Rita assentedeagerly, and put on her pretty hat. Shelooked on with surprise as MarmPrudence proceeded to take from acupboard an ample covered basket,from which protruded the neck of abottle and some plump red bananas.

"Are we going on a picnic, then " sheasked.

The good woman nodded. "You'll see,time enough!" she said. "It's a picnic forsomebody, if not for us, MissMargaritty. Look, dear! is Don Noonseyout in the ro'd there "

Don Annunzio was out in the road,having made what was quite a journeyfor him, down the verandah steps,along the garden walk, and across thesunny road. He now stood shading hiseyes with his hand, looking this wayand that with anxious glances.

At length, "All is quiet!" he said. "Theroad is clear, and no sign anywhere.Make haste then, mi alma, and crosswhile yet all is safe."

Beckoning to Rita, Marm Prudenceslipped out and across the road swiftly,not pausing till she had gained thescreen of a thick clump of cacti. Ritakept close to her side, drinking themystery like wine. They stood for a fewmoments behind the aloes; then DonAnnunzio spoke again.

"All is still perfect, and you may gowithout fear. Carry my best greetingswhither you are going. At the properhour I will await you here, and signal

when return is safe."

Without wasting words, his wife wavedher hand, and turning, plunged into theforest, followed by the delighted Rita.

The tangle of underbrush was higherthan their heads, but they made theirway quickly, and Rita soon saw that anarrow path wound along through thebush, and that the ground under herfeet had been trodden many times. Thetrees towered high above the denseundergrowth, some leafy andbranching, others, the palms, tossingtheir single plume aloft. Open near thewood, the wood grew thicker andthicker, till it stood like a wall on either

side of the narrow footpath; the twigsand leaves, broken and crushed hereand there, showed, like the path, thetraces of frequent passage.

Rita was burning with curiosity, yet shewould not for worlds have asked aquestion. They were nearing everymoment the heart of the mystery; shewould not spoil the dramatic effect byprying into it too soon.

Suddenly, a gleam of sunlight struckthrough the trees. They were near theend of the wood, then. A few stepsmore, and she caught her breath, with alow cry of amazement.

A round hollow, dipping deep like acup, with here and there a great treestanding. On one side, a clear springflowing from a rocky cleft. Under onetree, a hammock slung, and in ahammock a man asleep. Thus muchRita saw at the first glance. The nextinstant the man was on his feet, and thelong barrel of his carbine gleamed levelat sight.

"Alto! quien va " the challenge rang clearand sharp.

"Cuba!" replied Senora Carreno. "Forthe land's sake, Mr. Delmonty, don'tstart a person like that. You'd oughterknow my sunbunnit by this time."

The young man had already lowered hisweapon, and showed a laughing face ofapology as he lifted his broad-brimmedhat.

"I beg your pardon, Donna Prudencia,"he said. "I was asleep, and dreaming;not of angels!" he added, as he madeanother low bow, which included Ritain 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 lightenedhis face in an extraordinary manner.

Who might this be

"Mr. Delmonty, let me make yeacquainted with Miss MargarittyMontfort!" said Senora Carreno, withsome ceremony. "Miss Montfort isstoppin' with us for a spell. Both ofyou bein' half Yankee, I judged youmight be pleased to meet up with eachother."

Rita bowed with her most queenly air;then relaxed, as she met the merryglance of the blue eyes.

"Are you " she said. "I am very glad butyour name is Spanish."

"My father was a Cuban," said theyoung man; "my mother is American.She was a Russell of Claxton." Hepaused a moment, as if invitingcomment; but Rita, brought up inCuba, knew nothing of the Russells ofClaxton, a famous family.

"I've been in the North most of thetime since I was a little shaver," he wenton, "at school and college; came downhere last year, when things seemed to bebrewing. Have you been much inBoston, Miss Montfort We might havesome acquaintances in common."

Rita shook her head, and told him ofher one summer in the North. "I hope

to go again," she said, "when ourcountry is free. When Cuba has nolonger need of her daughters, as well asher sons, I shall gladly return to thatfair northern country."

Again she caught a quizzical glance ofthe blue eyes, and was reminded, shehardly knew why, of her Uncle John.But Uncle John's eyes were brown.

"You are alone here, Senor Delmonte "she asked, glancing around the solitarydell.

"Yes," said the young man, composedly."I'm in hiding."

Rita's eyes flashed. Hiding! a son ofCuba! skulking about in the woods,while his brother soldiers were at thefront, or, like Carlos, guarding the hillpasses! This was indeed being only halfa Cuban. She would have nothing to dowith recreant soldiers; and she turnedaway with a face of cold displeasure.

"How's your foot " asked SenoraCarreno, abruptly. "That last dressingfetch it, do you think "

"All right!" said the young man. "Look!I have my shoe on." And he held upone foot with an air of triumph. "Ishall be ready for the road to-night, andtake my troublesome self off your

hands, Senora Carreno."

"No trouble at all!" said the goodwoman, earnestly. "Not a mite oftrouble but what was pleasure, CaptainJack."

Captain Jack! where had Rita heard thatname Before she could try to think, herhostess went on.

"Well, I kinder hate to have you go, butof course you're eager, same as allyoung folks are. But look here! You'dbetter pass the night with us, and let mesee to your foot once more, and giveyou a good night's sleep in a Christianbed; and then I can mend up your

things a bit, and you lay by till nightagain, and start off easy andcomfortable."

"It sounds very delightful," said theyoung man, with a glance at thecharming girl who would stand withher head turned away. "But how aboutthe Gringos, Donna PrudenciaSupposing some of them should comealong to-morrow!"

"They won't come to-morrow!" saidMarm Prudence, significantly.

"No you have assurance of that andwhy may they not come to-morrow "

"Because they've come to-day, mostlikely!"

Rita started, and turned back towardthe speakers.

"The Gringos to-day " she cried.

Marm Prudence nodded. "That waswhy I brought you here, dear," she said;"most of the reason, that is. We gotword they was most likely comin', quitea passel of 'em; and we judged it waswell, Don Noonsey and me, that theyshouldn't see you. I thought mebbe,"she added, with a sly glance at thebasket, "that if I brought a littlesomething extry, we might get an

invitation to take a bite of luncheon,but we don't seem to."

"Oh! but who could have supposedthat I was to have all the good things inthe world " cried Delmonte, merrily."This is really too good to be true. Helpme, Donna Prudencia, while I set outthe feast! Why, this is the great day ofthe whole campaign."

The two unpacked the basket, withmany jests and much laughter; theywere evidently old friends. MeantimeRita stood by, uncertain of her ownmood. To miss an experience, possiblyterrible, certainly thrilling; to have lostan opportunity of declaring herself a

daughter of Cuba, possibly ofshooting a Spaniard for herself, and tohave been deceived, tricked like a child;this brought her slender browstogether, ominously, and made her eyesglitter in a way that Manuela wouldhave known well. On the other handhere was a romantic spot, a youngsoldier, apparently craven, but certainlywounded, and very good-looking; andhere was luncheon, and she wasdesperately hungry. On the whole

The tragedy queen disappeared, and itwas a cheerful though very dignifiedyoung person who respondedgracefully to Delmonte's petition thatshe would do him the favour to be

seated at his humble board.

CHAPTER X.

MANUELA'S OPPORTUNITY.

That was a pleasant little meal, underthe great plane-tree in the cup-shapeddell. Marm Prudence had kept, throughall her years of foreign residence, herNew England touch in cookery, andSenor Delmonte declared that it wasworth a whole campaign twice over totaste her doughnuts. They drank "CubaLibre" in raspberry vinegar that hadcome all the way from Vermont, and

Rita was obliged to confess that SenorDelmonte was a charming host, andthat she was enjoying herself extremely.

It was late in the afternoon when sheand Marm Prudence took their wayback through the forest. At first Ritawas silent; but as distance increasedbetween them and the dell, she couldnot restrain her curiosity.

How was it, she asked, that this youngman was there alone, separated fromhis companions He said he was inhiding. Hiding! a detestable, anunworthy word! Why should a son ofCuba be in hiding, she wished to know!She had worked herself into a fine

glow of indignation again, and wasready to believe anything andeverything bad about the agreeableyouth with the blue eyes.

"I must know!" she repeated, droppingher voice to a contralto note that shewas fond of. "Tell me, Marm Prudence;tell me all! have I broken the bread of arecreant "

"I thought it was my bread," said MarmPrudence, dryly. "I'll tell you, if you'llgive me a chance, Miss Margaritty. Isupposed, though, that you'd haveheard of Jack Delmonty; Captain Jack,as they call him. Since his last raid theGringos have offered a big reward for

him, alive or dead. He was wounded inthe foot, and thought he might henderhis troop some if he tried to go withthem in that state. So he camped here,and we've seen to him as best wecould."

Rita was dumb, half with amazement,half with mortification. How was itpossible that she had been so stupidHeard of Captain Jack where were herwits the daring guerrilla leader, thepride of the Cuban bands, the terror ofall Spaniards in that part of the island.Why, he was one of her pet heroes;only only she had fancied him soutterly different. The Captain Jack ofher fancy was a gigantic person, with

blue-black curls, with eyes like wells ofblack light (she had been fond of thisbit of description, and often repeated itto herself), a superb moustache, and anose absolutely Grecian, like theSantillo nose of tender memory. Thishalf-Yankee stripling, blue-eyed, with anose that yes, that actually turned up alittle, and the merest feather of brownlaid on his upper lip how could she orany one suppose this to be the famouscavalry leader

Rita blushed scarlet with distress, as sheremembered her bearing, which she hadtried to make as scornful as wascompatible with good manners. Shehad meant, had done her best, to show

him that she thought lightly of aCuban soldier who, for what reasonsoever, proclaimed himself withoutapology to be "in hiding." To be sure,he had not seemed to feel the rebuke asshe had expected he would. Once ortwice she had caught that look ofUncle John in his eyes; the laughing,critical, yet kindly scrutiny that alwaysmade her feel like a little girl, and a sillygirl at that. Was that what she hadseemed to Captain Delmonte Ofcourse it was. She had had the great, thecrowning opportunity of her life, ofdoing homage to a real hero (she forgotgood General Sevillo, who had been ahero in a quiet and business-like wayfor sixty years), and she had lost the

opportunity.

It was a very subdued Rita whoreturned to the house that evening. Atthe edge of the wood they were met byDon Annunzio, who stood as before,smoking his long black cigar, andscrutinising the road and thesurrounding country. A wave of hishand told them that all was well, andthey stepped quickly across the road,and in another minute were on theverandah.

Don Annunzio followed them with anelaborate air of indifference; but onceseated in his great chair, he began tospeak eagerly, gesticulating with his

cigar.

"Dios! Prudencia, you had aninspiration from heaven this day. WhatI have been through! the sole comfortis that I have lost twenty pounds atleast, from sheer anxiety. Imagine thatyou had not been gone an hour, whenup they ride, the guerrilla that wasreported to us yesterday. At their head,that pestiferous Col. Diego Moreno. Hedismounts, demands coffee, bananas,what there is. I go to get them; and, thesaints aiding me, I meet in the face thepretty Manuela. Another instant, andshe would have been on the verandah,would have been seen by these swine,female curiosity having led her to

imagine a necessary errand in thatdirection. I seize this charming child bythe shoulders, I push her into herroom. I tell her, 'Thou hast a dangerousfever. Go to thy bed on the instant, it isa matter of thy life.'

"My countenance is such that she obeyswithout a word. She is an admirablecreature! Beauty, in the female sex "

"Do go on, Noonsey," said his wife,good-naturedly, "and never mind aboutbeauty now. Land knows we have gotother things to think about."

"It is true, it is true, my own!" repliedthe amiable fat man. "I return to the

verandah. This man is striding up anddown, cutting at my poor vines with hisapoplexy of a whip. He calls me; Istand before him thus, civil but erect.

"'Have you any strangers here, DonAnnunzio '

"'No, Senor Colonel.'

"It is true, senorita. To make a strangerof you, so friendly, so gracious thethought is intolerable.

"He approaches, he regards me fixedly.

"'A young lady, Senorita Montfort, andher maid, escaped from the carriage of

her stepmother, the honourable SenoraMontfort, while on the way to theconvent of the White Sisters, ten daysago. A man of my command was takenby these hill-cats of Mambis, andcarried to a camp in thisneighbourhood. He escaped, andreported to me that a young lady andher attendant were in the camp. I raidedthe 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 histeeth, fire flashed from his eyes. 'Theywere gone!' he said. 'They had been

gone but a few hours, for the fires werestill burning, but no trace of them wasto be found. I found, however, in adeserted rancho, this!' and he held up adelicate comb of tortoise-shell."

"My side-comb!" cried Rita. "Iwondered where I had lost it. Go on,pray, Don Annunzio."

"He questioned me again, this colonel,on whom may the saints send alingering disease. I can swear that thereis no young lady in the house butassuredly, I can, and do swear it, withall earnestness. He whistles, and swearsalso in a different manner. He says, 'Imust search the house. This is an

important matter. A large reward isoffered by the Senora Montfort for thediscovery of this young lady.'

"'Search every rat-hole, my colonel,' Ireply; 'but first take your coffee, whichis ready at this moment.'

"In effect, Antonia arrives at the instantwith the tray. While she is serving him,I find time to slip with the agility of theserpent into the passage, and turn thehandle of the bedroom door. 'Spottedfever!' I cry through the crack; and amback at my post before the colonelcould see round Antonia's broad back.Good! he drinks his coffee. He devoursyour cakes, my Prudencia, keeping his

eye on me all the time, and plying mewith questions. I tell him all is well withus, except the sickness.

"'How then what sickness '

"'A servant is ill with fever,' I say. 'Wehope that it will not spread through thehouse; it is a bad time for fever.' I see hedoes not like that, he frowns, hemutters maledictions. I profess myselfready to conduct him through my poorpremises; I lead him through theparlour, which he had not sense toadmire, to the kitchen, to our ownapartment, my cherished one. All thetime my heart flutters like a woundeddove. I cry in my soul, 'All depends on

the wit of that child. If she had butgone with Prudencia to the forest!'

"Finally there is no escape, we mustpass the door. I stop before it. 'Open!'says the colonel.

"'Your Excellency will observe,' I say,'that there is a dangerous case ofspotted fever in this room.'

"He turns white, then black. He pullshis moustache, which resembles amattress.

"At last 'How do I know ' he cries; 'Youmay be lying! all Cubans are liars. Thegirl may be in this room!'

"I throw open the door and step back,my heart in my mouth, my eyes flingingthemselves into the apartment.Heavens! what do we see a hideous faceprojects itself from the bed. Red blacka face from the pit! A horrible smell isin our nostrils we hear groans enough!The colonel staggers back, cursing. Iclose the door and follow him out tothe verandah. My own nerves areshaken, I admit it; it was a thing toshatter the soul. Still cursing, hemounts his horse, and rides away withhis troop. I see them go. They carryaway 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 itthou '

"I am bidden to enter. I open the door,and find that admirable child at thetoilet-table, washing her face andlaughing till the tears flow. Already halfof her pretty face is clean, but half stillhideous to behold.

"'How did you do it ' I ask her. Shelaughs more merrily than before; if youhave noticed, she has a laughter ofsilver bells, this maiden. 'The red lip-salve,' she says, 'and a little ink. Have no

fear, Don Annunzio; it was you whodiscovered the fever, you know.'

"'But the smell, my child there must besomething bad here, somethingunhealthy; a vile smell!'

"She laughs again, this child. 'I burneda piece of tortoise-shell,' she says. 'SaintUrsula forgive me, it was one of thesenorita's side-combs, but there wasnothing else at hand.'

"Thus then, senorita, thus, myPrudencia, has Manuela virtually savedour house and ourselves. Hasten toembrace her! I have already permittedmyself the salute of a father upon her

charming cheek, as simple gratitudeenjoined it."

As if by magic could she have beenlistening in the passage Manuelaappeared, blushing and radiant. DonnaPrudencia did not think it necessary tokiss her, but she shook her warmly bythe hand, telling her that she was agood girl, and fit to be a Yankee, acompliment which Manuela hardlyappreciated. As for Rita, she kissed thegirl on both cheeks, and stood holdingher hands, gazing at her with wistfuleyes.

"Ah, Manuela," she cried; "I must notbegrudge it to you. You are a heroine;

you have had the opportunity, and youknew how to take it. Daughter ofCuba, your sister blesses you."

Before Manuela could reply, DonnaPrudencia broke in. "There! there!" shesaid. "Come down off your high horse,Miss Margaritty, there's a dear; and helpme to see to things. Here's CaptainDelmonty coming to-night, and themchicken-thieves of Gringos havecarried off every living thing there wasto eat in the house."

CHAPTER XI.

CAPTAIN JACK.

When Jack Delmonte appeared, late inthe evening, he was puzzled at thechange which had come over the prettyGrand Duchess, as he had mentallynicknamed Rita. In the afternoon shehad appeared, he could not imaginewhy, to regard him as a portion of thescum of the earth. He thought herextremely pretty, and full of charm, yethe could not help feeling provoked, inspite of his amusement, at thedisdainful curl at the corners of hermouth when she addressed him. Now,he was equally at a loss to understandwhy or how the Grand Duchess wasreplaced by a gentle and tender-voiced

maiden, who looked up at him fromunder her long curved lashes with timidand deprecatory glances. She insistedon mixing his granita herself, andbrought it in the one valuable cupMarm Prudence possessed, a beautifulold bit of Lowestoft. She begged tohear from his own lips about his lastraid about all his raids. She had heardabout some of them; the one where hehad swum the river under fire to rescuethe little lame boy; the other, when hehad chased five Spaniards for half amile, with no other weapon than abanana pointed at full cock. She evenknew of some exploits that he hadnever heard of; and the honest captainfound himself blushing under his tan,

and finally changed the subject by mainforce. It was very pleasant, of course, tohave this lovely creature hanging on hiswords, and supplementing them withothers of her own, only tooextravagantly laudatory; but a fellowmust tell the truth; and and after all,what was the meaning of it Shewouldn't look at him, three hours ago.

Had they had a gay winter in Havana heasked. He hadn't been to a dance forforty years. Was she fond of dancing ofcourse she was. What a pity theycouldn't here he happened to glance atRita's black dress, and stopped short.

"Miss Montfort, I beg your pardon! It

was very stupid of me. I ran onwithout thinking. You are in mourning.What a brute I am!"

The tears had gathered in Rita's eyes,but now she smiled through them. "Itis six months since my father died," shesaid. "He was the kindest of fathers,though, alas! Spanish in hissympathies."

"Your mother " hazarded Jack, full ofsympathy.

"My mother died three years ago. Mystepmother " then followed the tale ofher persecution, her escape, andsubsequent adventures. Captain Jack

was delighted with the story.

"Hurrah!" he exclaimed. "That wastremendously plucky, you know, goingoff in that way. That was fine! and yougot to your brother all right I wonder ishe are you any relation of CarlosMontfort Not his sister You don'tmean it. Why, I was at school withCarlos, the first school I ever went to.An old priest kept it, in Plaza Nero.Carlos was a good fellow, and gave methe biggest licking once I'm very gladwe met, Miss Montfort. And I don'tmean to be impertinent, I'm sure youknow that; but what are you going todo now "

Alas! Rita did not know. "I thought Iwas safe here," she said. "I was to stayhere with these good people till wordcame from my uncle in the States, or tillthere was a good escort that might takeme to some port whence I could sail toNew York. Now I do not know; Ibegin to tremble, Senor Delmonte. To-day, while Donna Prudencia and I werein the forest, a Spanish guerrilla camehere, looking for me. Don DiegoMoreno was in command. He is afriend of my stepmother's. I know him,a cold, hateful man. If he had foundme " she shuddered.

"I know Diego Moreno, too," saidDelmonte; and his brow darkened. "He

is not fit to look at you, much less tospeak to you. Never mind, MissMontfort! don't be afraid; we'll managesomehow. If no better way turns up, I'lltake you to Puerto Blanco myself.Trouble is, these fellows are ratherdown on me just now; but we'llmanage somehow, never fear! Hark!what's that "

He leaned forward, listening intently. Afaint sound was heard, hardly morethan a breathing. Some night-bird, wasit It came from the fringe of forestacross the road. Again it sounded, twonotes, a long and a short one, soft andplaintive. A bird, certainly, thought Rita.She started as Captain Delmonte

imitated the call, repeating it twice.

"Juan," he said, briefly. "Reporting fororders. Here he comes!"

A burly figure crossed the road in threestrides. Three more brought him to theverandah, where he saluted and stoodat attention.

"Well, Juan, where are the rest of you "

"In the usual place, Senor Captain, fourmiles from here," said the orderly. "Ihave brought Aquila; he is here in thethicket, my own horse also. Will youride to-night "

"To-morrow, at daybreak, Juan. I havepromised Senora Carreno to sleep onenight under her roof, and convince herthat my foot is entirely well. BringAquila into the courtyard. All is quiet inthe neighbourhood "

"All quiet, Senor Captain. Good; Ibring Aquila and return to the troop.You will be with us, then, beforesunrise "

"Before sunrise without fail," saidCaptain Jack. "Buenos noches, Juanito!"

The trooper saluted again, and slippedback across the road; next moment hereappeared leading a long, lean, brown

horse, who walked as if he weretreading on eggshells. They passed intothe courtyard and were seen no more,Juan making his way back to the thicketby some unseen path.

"You do not stay with us through theday then, Mr. Delmonte I am sorry!"said Rita.

"I wish I could, indeed I do; but I mustget to my fellows as soon as possible. Ishall come back, though, in a day ortwo, and put myself and my troop atyour orders, Miss Montfort. Howwould you like to lead a troop, likeMadame Hernandez " He laughed, butRita's eyes flashed.

"But I would die to do it!" she cried."Ah! Senor Delmonte, once to fight formy country, and then to die that is myambition."

"And you'd do it well, I am sure!" saidDelmonte, warmly; "the fighting part, Imean. But nobody would let you die,Miss Montfort, it would spoil theprospect."

He spoke lightly, for heroicsembarrassed him, as they did Carlos.

Soon after, Donna Prudencia appeared,with bedroom candles, and stoodlooking benevolently at the two young

people.

"I expect you've been having a goodvisit," she said. "Well, there's an end toall, and it's past ten o'clock, MissMargaritty."

Rita rose with some reluctance; nor didCaptain Delmonte seem enthusiastic onthe subject of going to bed.

"Such a beautiful night!" he said. "Mustyou go, Miss Montfort I mustn't keepyou up, of course. Good-bye, then, fora few days! I shall be gone beforedaybreak. I'm very glad we have met."

They shook hands heartily. Rita

somehow did not find words so readilyas usual. "I too am glad," she said. "It issomething I have always wished tomeet the 'Star of Horsemen!'"

"Oh, please don't!" cried Jack, in distress."That was just a joke of those idiots ofmine. Good gracious! if you go tocalling names, Miss Montfort, I shallnot dare to come back again. Goodnight!"

It was long before Rita could sleep. Shelay with wide-open eyes, conjuring upone scene after another, in all of whichCaptain Delmonte played the hero'spart, and she the heroine's. He wasrescuing her single-handed from a

regiment of Spaniards; they weregalloping together at the head of atroop, driving the Gringos like sheepbefore them. Or, he was wounded onthe field of battle, and she was kneelingbeside him, holding water to his lips,and blessing the good Cuban surgeonwho had taught her bandaging in thecamp among the hills. At length, heroand heroine, Cuban and Spaniard,faded away, and she slept peacefully.

"What is it what is the matter " Ritasprang up in her bed and listened. Thesound that had awakened her wasrepeated: a knock at the door; a voice,low but imperative; the voice of JackDelmonte.

"Miss Montfort! are you awake "

"Yes; what has happened "

"The Gringos! Dress yourself quickly,and come out. You can dress in thedark "

"Yes; oh, yes! I will come. Manuela!wake! wake! don't speak, but dressyourself; the Spaniards are here."

Hastily, with trembling hands, the twogirls put on their clothes. No thoughtnow of how or what; anything to coverthem, and that quickly. They hurriedout into the passage; Delmonte stood

there, carbine in hand. He spoke almostin a whisper, yet every word fell clearlyon their strained ears.

"It's not Moreno; it's Velaya's guerrilla:we must get away before they fire thehouse. Give me your hand, MissMontfort; you will be quiet, I know.Your maid "

"Manuela, you will not speak!"

"No, senorita!" said poor Manuela, witha stifled sob.

"My horse is ready saddled," Delmontewent on. "If I can get you away beforethey see us "

"Me! but what will become of theothers " cried Rita, under her breath. "Icannot desert Manuela and MarmPrudence Donna Prudencia."

"I am going to save you," said JackDelmonte, quietly. "If for no otherreason, I have just given my word toDonna Prudencia. The rest I'll get backas 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 andwithout the house; and at the sameinstant a bright light sprang up, andthey saw each other's faces.

Delmonte ground his teeth. "Wait!" hesaid; and going a little way along thepassage, he peered from a window. Theverandah swarmed with armed men.The door was locked and barred, butthey were smashing the window-shutters with the butts of theircarbines. He glanced along the passage.Inside the door stood Don Annunzio,in his vast white pajamas, firingcomposedly through a wicket; besidehim his wife, as quietly loading andhanding him the weapons. Behindthem huddled the few house and farmservants, negroes for the most part, butamong them was one intelligent-looking young Creole. Singling him

out, Delmonte led him apart, andpointed to Manuela. "Your sister!" hesaid. "Your life for hers."

The youth nodded, and beckoned thefrightened girl to stand beside him. Ritasaw no more, for Delmonte, graspingher hand firmly, led her through thewinding passage and into the innercourtyard. Pausing a moment on theverandah, they looked through thearchway at one side, through whichstreamed a red glare. The cane patchwas on fire, and blazing fiercely. Theflames tossed and leaped, and in frontof them men were running withtorches, setting fire to sheds and out-houses. Their shouts, the crackling and

hissing of the flames, the shots andcries from the front of the house,turned the quiet night wild with horror.A crash behind them told that the frontdoor had yielded.

"It's run for it, now!" said Delmonte,quietly. "Now, then, child, quick!"

A few steps, and they were beside thebrown horse, standing saddled andbridled, and already quivering andstraining to be off. Delmonte lifted Ritain his arms, no time now for courtlymounting, then sprang to the saddlebefore her. He spoke to the horse, whostood trembling, but made no motionto advance.

"Aquila, softly past the gate then forlife! good boy! Miss Montfort, put yourarms around me, and hold fast. Don'tlet go unless I drop; then try to catchthe reins, and give him his head. Heknows the way."

Softly, slowly, Aquila crept to thearchway. He might have been shod withvelvet for any sound he made. Couldthey get away unseen The men with thetorches were busy at their horrid work;they could not be seen yet from thefront of the house. The horse creptforward, silent as a phantom. They wereclear of the archway. "Now!" whisperedDelmonte. "For life, Aquila!" and

Aquila went, for life.

CHAPTER XII.

FOR LIFE.

"If we can put the fire between us andthem," said Captain Jack, "we shall getoff."

For a moment it seemed as if theymight do it. Already they saw the roadbefore them, the sand glowing red inthe firelight. A few more strides Justthen, a Spanish soldier came runninground the corner of the burning cane-

patch, whirling his blazing torch. Hesaw them, and raised a shout. "Alerta!alerta! fugitives! after them! shoot downthe Mambi dogs!"

There was a rush to the corner where ascore of horses stood tethered to thefence. A dozen men leaped into thesaddle and came thundering in pursuit.Aquila gave one glance back; thenstretched his long lean neck, and settledinto a gallop.

Before them the road lay straight forsome distance, red here in the crimsonlight, further on white under a latemoon. On one side the woods roseblack and still, on the other lay open

fields crossed here and there by barbedwire fences. No living creature was tobe seen on the road. No sound washeard save the muffled beat of thehorse's hoofs on the sand, and behind,the shouts and cries of their pursuers.Were they growing louder, those shoutsWere they gaining, or was the distancebetween them widening Rita turned herhead once to look back. "I wouldn't dothat!" said Delmonte, quietly. "Do youmind, Miss Montfort, if I swing youround in front of me Don't bealarmed, Aquila is all right."

Before Rita could speak, he haddropped 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 veryuncomfortable; but I can a managebetter, don't you see " But to himselfhe was saying, "Lucky I got that donebefore the beggars began to shoot.Now they may fire all they like. Stupidduffer I was, not to start right."

He had felt the girl's light figure quiveras he lifted her.

"Don't be frightened, Miss Montfort,"he said again. "There isn't a horse in thecountry that can touch Aquila when heis roused."

"I am not frightened," said Rita. "I am

excited, I suppose. It is like riding onwind, isn't it "

It was true that she felt no fear; neitherdid she realise the peril of theirposition. It was one of the dreamscome true, that was all. She was ridingwith Delmonte, with the Star ofHorsemen. He was saving her life. Theyhad ridden so before, often and often;only now

Pah! a short, sharp report was heard,and a little dust whiffed up on the roadbeside them. Pah! pah! another puff ofdust, and splinters flew from a tree justbeyond them. Aquila twitched his earsand stretched his long neck, and they

felt the stride quicken under them. Theroad rushed by; they were half-way tothe turn.

"Would you like to hold the reins for abit " asked Delmonte. "It isn't reallynecessary, but thanks! that's very nice."

What was he doing He had turned halfround in the saddle; somethingtouched her hair the butt of hiscarbine. "I beg your pardon!" saidCaptain Jack. "I am very clumsy, I fear."

Crack! went the carbine. Rita's ears rangwith the noise; she held the reinsmechanically, only half-conscious ofherself. Pah! pah! and again crack! The

blue rifle-smoke was in her eyes andnostrils, the Mauser bullets pattered likehail on the road; and still Aquilagalloped on, never turning his head,never slackening his mighty stride, andstill the road rushed by, and the turn bythe hill grew nearer nearer

Pah! Rita felt her companion wince. Hisleft arm relaxed its hold and dropped athis side. With his right hand hecarefully replaced his carbine in itssling.

"For life, Aquila!" he said softly, inSpanish; and once more Aquilagathered his great limbs under him, andonce more the terrible pace quickened.

A stone a hole in the road who knowsIn a moment they were all down, horseand riders flung in a heap together. Thehorse struggled to his knees, then fellagain. He screamed, an agonisingsound, that in Rita's excited mindseemed to mingle with the smoke andthe dust in a cloud of horror. Everymoment she expected to feel the ironhoofs crashing into her, as the frenziedcreature struggled to regain his footing.

Delmonte had sprung clear, and in aninstant he was at Rita's side, raising her."You are hurt no good! keep behindme, please."

He went to the horse, and tried to lifthim, bent to examine him, and thenshook his head. Aquila would not riseagain; his leg was shattered. Delmontestraightened himself and looked abouthim. If this had happened a hundred,fifty yards back! but now the woodswere gone, and on either handstretched a bare savannah, broken onlyby the hateful barbed wire fences. Hedrew his revolver quietly. The healthybrown of his face had gone gray; hiseyes were like blue steel. He looked atRita, and met her eyes fixed on him in amute anguish of entreaty.

"Have no fear!" he said. "It shall be as itwould with my own sister. I know these

men; they shall not touch you alive."

He bent once more over the strugglingbeast, and even in his agony Aquilaknew his master, and turned his eyeslovingly toward him, expecting help;and help came.

"Good-bye, lad!" The pistol cracked,and the tortured limbs sank into quiet.

"Lie down behind him!" Delmontecommanded. "So! now, still."

He knelt behind the dead horse, facingthe advancing Spaniards. The revolvercracked again, and the foremosthorseman dropped, shot through the

head. The troop was now close uponthem; Rita could see the fierce faces,and the gleam of their wolfish teeth.Delmonte fired again, and another mandropped, but still the rest came on.There was no help, then

Delmonte looked at Rita; she closedher eyes, expecting death. The air wasfull of cries and curses. But what othersound was that Not from before, butbehind them round the turn of theroad some one was singing! In all thehurry of her flying thoughts Ritasteadied 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 hadcome around the bend, and checked hishorse, looking at the scene before him.A giant rider on a giant horse. Themoon shone on his brown uniform, hisslouched felt hat, and the carbine laidacross his saddle-bow. Under theslouched hat looked out a bronzedface, grim and bearded, lighted by eyesblue as Delmonte's own.

Rita gave one glance. "Help!" she cried,"America, help!"

"America's the place!" said thehorseman. He waved his hand to someone behind him, then put his horse tothe gallop. Next instant he was besidethem.

Delmonte started to his feet, revolver inhand. "U. S. A. " he said. "You're just intime, uncle. I'm glad to see you."

"Always like to be on time at a party,"said the rough rider, levelling hiscarbine. "My fellows are in short, herethey 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, ehhooray!"

The Spaniards had checked theirhorses. Four of them lay dead in theroad, and several others were wounded.At sight of the mounted troop, theystopped and held a hurriedconsultation, then turned their horsesand rode away.

The giant looked at Delmonte. "Wantto follow " he asked. "This is yourhand, comrade."

"I want a horse!" said Captain Jack."Miss Montfort," he turned to Rita,who had risen to her feet, and stoodpale but quiet, "these are our own goodcountry-men. If I leave you with thembut a few moments "

"Hold on!" said the big man. "What didyou call the young lady "

Delmonte stared. "This is MissMontfort," he said, rather formally.

"Not Rita!" cried the giant. "Pike's Peakand Glory Gulch! Don't tell me it'sRita!"

"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Rita, running

forward with outstretched hands. "It isI am! and you oh, I know, I know. Youare Peggy's big brother. You are CousinJim!"

"That's what they said when theychristened me!" said Cousin Jim.

CHAPTER XIII.

MEETINGS AND GREETINGS.

It was no time for explanations. JimMontfort put out a hand like a pineknot, and gave Rita's fingers a hugeshake.

"Glad to find you, cousin," he said."I've been looking for you. Now, what'sup over there " He nodded in thedirection of the fire.

"A candela," said Delmonte, briefly. "Imust get back; there are women there.If one of your men will catch me thathorse "

"But you are wounded!" cried Rita."Cousin, he is shot in the arm. Do notlet him go!"

Delmonte laughed. "It's nothing, MissMontfort," he said; "but nothing at all,I assure you. When we get to camp you

shall put some carbolic acid on it, andtie it up for me; that's field practice inCuba. I shall be proud to be your firstfield patient." He spoke in his usuallaughing way; but suddenly his facechanged, and he leaned toward herswiftly, his hand on the horse's mane. "Ishall never forget this time our ridetogether," he said. "I hope you will notforget either please And now, MissMontfort, I have no further right overyou. I would have done my best, Ithink you know that; but I must giveyou into your cousin's protection. Youwill 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 thelady."

The troopers saluted, and raised theirhats civilly to Rita, inwardly cursingtheir luck. Because they owned the nextranch to Jim Montfort, was that anyreason why they should lose all the funand why could not girls stay at homewhere they belonged

But Rita herself cried out and claspedher hands, and ran to her cousin. "Oh,Cousin Jim Senor Delmonte let me gowith you! Please, please let me go back.My poor Manuela Marm Prudence theymay 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 bequiet Senor Delmonte, tell him I can bequiet!"

She looked eagerly at Delmonte.

"I can tell him that you are the bravestgirl I ever saw," he said. "But, you havebeen through a great deal. I don't liketo have you go back among thoserascals."

James Montfort stroked his brownbeard 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 wholeshe'll be better off with us. My sisterPeggy wouldn't like to miss any circusthere was going, would she, little girlCatch another of those beasts for thelady, Bill!"

Rita, with one of her quick gestures,caught his great hand in both hers."Oh, you good cousin!" she cried. "Youdear cousin! You are the very best andthe 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 buthere is your horse, missy."

The horses of the dead Spaniards hadbeen circling about them, more or lessshyly. Two of them were quickly caughtby the rough riders, and Rita andDelmonte mounted. As they did so,both glanced toward the spot where laythe brave horse that had borne them sowell.

"It was for life indeed, Aquila!" saidCaptain Jack, softly. His eyes met Rita's,and she saw the brightness of tears inthem. Next moment they weregalloping back to the residencia.

They came only just in time. Not tenminutes had passed since they left thecourtyard, but in that time the savageSpaniards had done their work well.The house itself was in flames, andburning fiercely. Good Don Annunziolay dead, carbine in hand, on the stepsof his ruined home. Beside him lay theCreole youth in whose chargeDelmonte had left Manuela. The ladwas still alive, for as Delmonte bentfrom the saddle above him he raised hishead.

"I did my best, my captain!" he said."They were too many."

"Where are they " asked Delmonte andMontfort in one breath.

The boy pointed down the road; raisedhis hand to salute, and fell back, dead.

Now again it was a ride for life nottheir own life this time. Rita had cleanforgotten herself. The thought of herfaithful friend and servant in the handsof the merciless Spaniards turned herquick blood to fire. She gallopedsteadily, her eyes fixed on the cloud ofdust only a few hundred yards aheadof them, which told where the enemywas galloping, too.

Jim Montfort glanced at her, andnodded to himself. "She'll do!" he saidin his beard. "Montfort grit's good grit,and she's got it. This would be nuts tolittle Peggy."

Jack Delmonte, too, looked more thanonce at the slender figure riding solightly between him and the big roughrider. How beautiful she was! He hadnot realised half how beautiful till now.What nerve! what steadiness! It mightbe the Reina de Cuba, Donna Hernandezherself, 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 hadgiven his life for theirs. She was hiscomrade then, his charge, his and nowshe was Miss Montfort, a young ladyof fortune and position, under chargeof her cousin, a Yankee captain ofrough riders; and he, Jack Delmonte,was nothing in particular.

As he was thinking these thoughts, Ritachanced to turn her head, and met hisgaze fixed earnestly upon her. Sheblushed suddenly and deeply, the lovelycolour rising in a wave over cheeks andforehead; then turned her head sharplyaway.

"Now I have offended her!" said Jack."Idiot!" and perhaps he was not verywise.

But there was little time for thinking orblushing. The Spaniards, seeingDelmonte, whom they regarded as thedevil in person, descending upon themin company with a giant and an army(for so they described the band ofrough riders at headquarters next day),abandoned their prisoners. TheAmericans chased them for a mile orso, killed three or four, and, as theyreported, "scared the rest into KingdomCome," leaving them only on comingto a thick wood, into which the

Gringos, leaping from their horses,vanished, and were seen no more. Thevictors then returned to the forlornlittle group of women and negroes,huddled together by the roadside. Ritahad already dismounted, and hadManuela in her arms. She felt her allover, hurrying question upon question.

"My child, you are not hurt notwounded these ruffians did they dareto touch you did they have the audacityto speak to you, Manuela Oh, why did Ileave you I could not help it; you saw Icould not help it. You are sure you haveno hurt "

"But, positively, senorita," said

Manuela. "See! not a scratch is on me.They one fellow offered to tie myhands; I scratched him so well that heran away. I am safe, safe praise be to allsaints, to our Holy Lady, and the SenorDelmonte. But poor Cerito, senoritawhat of him he was with us; he foughtlike a lion. I saw him fall "

"Poor Cerito!" said Rita, gravely. "Hewas a brave, brave lad. A thousand sonsto Cuba like him!"

Donna Prudencia was sitting apart on astone by the roadside. Rita went up toher, took her hand, and kissed hercheek. The Yankee woman lookedkindly at her and nodded

comprehension, but did not speak. Ritastood silent for a few minutes, timidlystroking the brown cheek and whitehair. Her cousin Margaret came into hermind. What would Margaret say, if shewere here She would know the rightword, she always did.

"Marm Prudence," she said, presently,"to have the memory of a hero, of onewho dies for his country, that issomething, is it not some little comfort"

Marm Prudence did not answer atonce.

"Mebbe so," she said, presently. "Mebbe

so, Miss Margaritty. Noonzio was agood man. Yes'm, I've lost a goodhusband and a good home! A goodhusband and a good home!" sherepeated. "That's all there is to it, Iexpect." Her rugged face was disturbedfor a moment, and she hid it in herhands; when she looked up, she washer own composed self.

"And what's the next thing " she asked."Thank you, Cap'n Delmonty, I'mfeeling first-rate. Don't you fret aboutme. You done all you could. I'll neverforget what you done. Poor husband'slast words before he was shot wasthanking the Lord Miss Margaritty wasoff safe. We knew we could trust her

with you."

"Indeed," said honest Delmonte, "it isnot me you must thank, DonnaPrudencia. I did what I could, but itwas Captain Montfort and his menwho saved both her life and mine."

He told the story briefly, and MarmPrudence listened with interest. "Well,"she said, "that was pretty close, wasn't itAnyway, you done all you could, Cap'nJack, and nobody can't do no more.And he's Miss Margaritty's cousin, yousay I want to know! He's big enoughfor three, ain't he "

Rita laughed, in spite of herself. She

beckoned to Cousin Jim, who came upand shook hands with the widow withgrave sympathy. But he seemedpreoccupied, and, while they werepreparing to return to the ruined farm,he was pulling his big beard andmeditating with a puzzled air.

"Look here!" he broke out at last,addressing his men. "I've beenwondering what was wrong. I couldn'tseem to round up, somehow, and nowI've got it. Where's that poor oldJohnny I left him with you when I rodeforward 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 longafter you signalled to us to come on.We came."

"That's so!" clamoured the rough riders,in sheepish chorus. "We came, Cap'nJim. That's a fact!"

"Well that's all right!" said Jim. "Youmight have brought the old Johnnyalong, though, seems to me. Two ofyou 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 handgallop.

Montfort turned to Rita.

"I haven't had time to tell you about itbefore," he said. "Cousin Rita, I've beenhunting for you for three days. We metan old Johnny an old gentleman, Ishould say riding about on a pony, forall the world like Yankee Doodle. He'dgot lost, poor old duffer, among theseinferior crossroads, and didn't knowwhether he was in China or Oklahoma.We picked him up, and, riding along, itcame out that he was searching for hisward, a young lady who had run away

from a convent. Ever heard of such aperson, missy He had started out alone,to ride about Cuba till he found her.Kind of pocket Don Quixote, aboutfive foot high, white hair, silk clothes;highly respectable Johnny."

"Don Miguel!" cried Rita. "Poor, dear,good Don Miguel! I have never writtento him, wicked that I am. Oh, where ishe, Cousin Jim "

"Come to ask him," Jim continued, "itappeared that the young lady's namewas Montfort. Now, I had just had aletter from Uncle John, wanting me toraise the island to get hold of you andship you North at once. He had had no

letters; was alarmed, you understand.Laid up with a bad knee, or would havecome himself. I was just going to startback to the city in search of you, whenup comes Don Quixote. When heheard I was your cousin, he fell into myarms, pony and all. Give you my wordhe did! Almost lost him in my waistcoatpocket. I cheered him up a bit, andwe've been poking about together thesethree days, looking for General Sevillo'scamp. Thought you might be there. Wewere camping by the roadside when weheard your firing. Ah! here he comesnow!"

The rough riders came back, theirhorses trotting now, instead of

galloping. Between them, amblinggently along, was a piebald pony ofamiable appearance, and on the ponysat a little old gentleman with snow-white hair and a face as mild and gentleas the pony's own. At sight of Ritarunning to meet him, he uttered a cryof joy, and checked his horse. Nextmoment he had dismounted, and hadher in his arms, sobbing like a child.

"Dear Donito Miguelito!" cried Rita."Forgive me! please do forgive me, forfrightening you. I could not go to theconvent, indeed I could not. I am awretch to have treated you so, but Icould not go to that place."

"Of course you could not, my child,"said the good old man. "Nunc dimittis,Domine! Now lettest thou thy servantdepart in peace. Of course you couldnot."

"I could not live with Concepcion;don't you know I could not, DonitoMiguelito "

"The thought is impossible, my Pearl.Speaking with all possible respect, theSenora Montfort, though high-bornand accomplished, is a hystericalwildcat. You did well, my child; you didextremely well. So long as I have foundyou, nothing matters; but, nothing atall. 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 theruined farm. The house was completelygutted; the widow of Don Annunziohad the clothes she stood in, andnothing beside. She stood quietly bywhile her husband's body was laid inthe grave beside that of young Cerito; a

shallow grave, hastily dug in what hadlately been the garden. She listened withthe same quiet face while good oldDon Miguel, with faltering voice,recited a Latin prayer. She was aMethodist, he a fervent Catholic; but itmattered little at that moment.

By this time it was daylight. A smallpatch of bananas was found, that hadescaped the destroying torch, and onthese the party made a hasty meal; thenthey rode away, all save the negroes,who preferred to stay in theneighbourhood where their lives hadbeen 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 andanxieties from the time her flight wasdiscovered to the present moment.These caused her real grief, and shebegged again and again for theforgiveness which he assured her waswholly unnecessary. But when hedescribed the hysterical rage of herstepmother, her eyes brightened, andthe colour came back to her pale cheek.She had no doubt that ConcepcionMontfort was sorry to lose her; thelarger part of her father's fortune hadbeen settled upon her, Rita, before hissecond marriage.

"The senora also has made diligentsearch for you, my child!" said DonMiguel. "She has offered ample rewards"

"I know it!" said Rita. "Only yesterdaycan it be that it was only yesterday DonDiego Moreno was here there, I shouldsay, at that peaceful home that is now aheap of ashes. These Spaniards!"

Had she seen Don Diego the old manasked; and he seemed relieved when sheanswered in the negative.

"It is well; it is well!" he said. "He is arelative of the senora's, I am aware; butit would have been unsuitable, most

unsuitable."

"What would have been unsuitable,Donito Miguelito "

Don Miguel looked confused. "Anothing, my child. The SenoraMontfort had an idea Don Diego madecertain advances in short, he wouldhave asked for your hand, my senoritawell, my Margarita, if you will have itso. But I took it upon myself to refusethese overtures without consultingyou."

Rita heard a low exclamation, andturning, saw Delmonte's face like darkfire beside her.

"I beg your pardon!" he said. "I couldnot help hearing. Don Miguel, if DiegoMoreno makes any more suchproposals, kindly let me know, and I'llshoot him at sight."

"I thank you! thank you, my son!" saidDon Miguel, somewhat fluttered. "Ihope no violence will be necessary. Iused strong language, very stronglanguage, to Don Diego Moreno. I Itold him that I considered him a personentirely objectionable, unfit to sweepthe road before the Senorita Montfort'sfeet. He went away very angry. Ithought we should hear no more ofhim; but it seems that he still retains his

presumptuous idea. Without doubt, itwill be best, my dear child, for you toseek the northern home of your familywithout delay."

Why, at this obviously sensible remark,should Rita feel a sinking at the heart,and a sudden anger against her dear oldfriend And again, why, on stealing aglance at Delmonte, and seeing thetrouble reflected in his face, should herheart as suddenly spring up again, anddance within her What had happened

They had ridden some miles, when JimMontfort, on his big gray horse, rangedalongside of Delmonte.

"It appears to me," he said, "thatsomething is going on in these woodshere. I've seen two or three bits ofbrown that weren't bark, and if I didn'tcatch the shine of a gun-barrel justnow, you may call me a Dutchman. Ithink I'll fire, and see what happens."

"No, don't do that!" said Delmonte,quietly. "It's only my fellows. They'vebeen keeping alongside for the last half-mile, waiting for a signal. They might aswell come out now."

He gave a low call in two notes; the callRita had heard was it only the nightbefore it seemed as if a week hadpassed since then.

The call was answered from the wood;and as if by magic, from every tree,from every clump of bushes, camestealing lean brown figures, leadingequally lean horses, all armed and onthe alert. They saluted, and, at a wordfrom the burly Juan, fell into order withthe precision of a troop on drill.

"What's all this, Juan " asked Delmonte."No order was given."

Juan replied with submission that anegro boy had brought news an hourago that Don Annunzio's house hadbeen burned, he and his wholehousehold murdered, and their captain

taken prisoner; and that the latter wasbeing brought in irons along the roadto Santiago. They, Juan and the rest, hadplanned a rescue, and disposedthemselves to that end in the mostadvantageous manner. That they wereabout to fire, when they recognisedtheir captain's escort as Americans; andthat they then resolved to accompanythe party as quietly as might be till theycame near the camp, and then maketheir presence known to all, as they hadat once made it known to Delmontehimself by a low call which only he hadnoticed.

"Not wishing to intrude," Juanconcluded, with a superb salute.

Delmonte turned to his companions."Miss Montfort," he said, "CaptainMontfort you'll all come up to myplace, of course, and rest, for to-day, atleast. It isn't much of a place to ask youto, but it's quiet, at least, and you canrest; and you must be half-starved. Iknow I am."

His face was eager as a boy's. Rita's wasnot less so, as she gazed at the bigcousin, who stroked his beard as usual,and reflected.

"I did mean to push straight on toSantiago," he said, "but it's a good bitof a way, to be sure; what do you say,

little cousin tired hey "

Rita blushed. "A a little tired, CousinJim; and very hungry!"

This settled it. Captain Montfort bidDelmonte "fire away." The latter said afew rapid words to Juan, and the scoutshot off like an arrow across the fields,riding as if for his life.

An hour later, the whole party wasseated around a fire, in as comfortable anook of the hills as guerilla leadercould desire, sipping coffee, and eatingbroiled chicken and fried bananas, freshfrom the parilla. The fire was builtagainst a great rock that rose abruptly

from the dell, forming one side of it,and towering so high that the smokedisappeared before it reached the top.Thick woods framed the other sides ofthe natural fastness, and here the Cubanriders could lie hidden for days andweeks, unsuspected, unseen, save by thewandering birds that now and thencircled above their heads. No tents orhuts here; the horses were tethered totrees; the commander's hammock wasswung in a shady thicket near the greatrock; as for his men, a ragged blanketand the "soft side of a stone" were allthey asked.

Rita had dressed Captain Delmonte'swound, and bandaged the arm in

approved style, Cousin Jim looking onwith grunts of approval. He andDelmonte himself both assured herthat, if they were handling it, theyshould simply squirt carbolic acid intoit, and tie it up with anything that camehandy; but Rita shook her head gravely,and three of her delicate handkerchiefs,brought from the long-suffering bagwhich Manuela had somehow managedto save from the ruins, torn into strips,made a very sufficient bandage. Thewound was, in truth, slight. Delmontelooked almost as if he wished it moresevere, for the whole matter of bathingand dressing could not be stretchedbeyond ten minutes; but Rita's pride inher neat bandage was pretty to see, and

he watched her with delighted eyesthrough every stage.

"Snug quarters!" said Jim Montfort,approvingly, as, the breakfast over, hestretched his huge length along thegrass and looked about him; and all theparty echoed his opinion. The twocaptains fell into talk of the war and itsways, while the women, wearied out,rested after their long night of distressand fatigue. Marm Prudence chose thedry grass, with a cloak for a pillow, butRita curled herself thankfully inCaptain Jack's hammock, after trying invain to persuade him that he was aninvalid, and ought to take it himself.After some rummaging in a hole in the

rock which served him for cupboardand wardrobe, Delmonte brought her asmall pillow in a somewhat weather-beaten cover. "I wish I had a betterone," he said. "This has been out in therain a good deal, and I'm afraid itsmells of smoke, but it's a great pillowfor sleeping on."

"Oh, thank you!" said Rita. "It is verycomfortable indeed. How good you areto me, Captain Delmonte. Andwhatever you may say, it is a greatshame for me to take your ownhammock. If there were only another "

"Oh, please don't!" said Jack. "It's reallyyou must not talk so, Miss Montfort.

As if there was anything I wouldn't dowhy, this hammock will never be thesame again. I I mean oh, you knowwhat I mean, and I never could makepretty speeches. But it is a pleasure, andan honour, to have you here; and youcan't think how much it means to me.Good night! I mean sleep well."

He added a few words of a Germansong relative to the desirability of acertain lovely angel's slumberingsweetly. Rita did not understandGerman, but the tone of Delmonte'svoice was in no particular language,and, tired as she was, it was some timebefore she went to sleep.

It was late afternoon when they tookthe road again. Before starting they helda council, seated together beneath thegreat tree, under whose shade Rita hadslept peacefully for several hours. JimMontfort was the first speaker.

"I take it," he said, "we'd better, eachone of us, say what we mean to do.Then the sky will be clear, and we canfit in or shake apart, as seems best ineach case. We all ride together to Pinedel Rio, as Captain Delmonte is sofriendly as to ride with us. After that I'llbegin with you, ma'am." He addressed,the widow respectfully. "How can Ibest serve you I am going to see mycousin safe off, and you must call upon

me for any service I can possibly renderyou."

"She will stay with me!" cried Rita."Dear Marm Prudence, you will staywith me, will you not "

Marm Prudence shook her head,though with a look of infinitekindliness. "Thank you, dear," she said;"it's like you to say it, but I'm goinghome to Greenvale, Vermont. I've asister living there yet. I'll go back to myown folks at last, and lay my bonesalongside o' mother's. I'll never forgityou, though, Miss Margaritty," sheadded, "nor you, Cap'n Jack. There! Ican't say much yet."

She turned away, and all were silent fora moment, as she wiped the tears fromher rugged face.

"You go straight home, I suppose, sir "said Jim, addressing Don Miguel.

"Yes, yes!" cried the little gentleman. "Igo to Pine del Rio with my dear wardhere. To see her safe on board a goodvessel, bound for the North; to sayfarewell to the joy of my old days, andput out the light of my eyes that is myone sad desire, Senor Montfort. Afterthat I am old, I have but a short timeleft, and my prayers will require that."

"Well, then, it seems as if the first thingon all hands was to find a steamersailing for home," said Jim. "If Mrs.Annunzio will take charge of you,Cousin Rita, I think that will be thebest thing. Uncle John will send someone to meet you in New York and takeyou to Fernley. How does that suit you"

Rita was silent. She had grown verypale. Delmonte looked at her eagerly,but did not speak.

"What do you say, little cousin "repeated Montfort. "You have a mindof 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 foronce.

"Cousin Jim dear Don Miguel you areboth so kind, so good. You too, MarmPrudence. I love the North. I love mydear 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. Ihave been thinking, Cousin Jim, a greatdeal, while all these things have beenhappening; these wonderful, terriblethings. I I ought to have learned a great

deal; I hope I have learned a little. Ihave talked enough about helping mycountry; too much I have talked; now Iwant to do something. I am going towork in one of the hospitals. Nursesare needed, I know, every day more ofthem. I do not know enough yet to be anurse, but I can be a helper. I am veryhumble; I will do the meanest work,but but that is what I mean to do."

She ceased, and all the others, lookingin her face, saw it bright and lovely withearnest resolve. But Don Miguel criedout in expostulation. It was impossible,he said. It could not be. She was tooyoung, too delicate, too the propositionwas monstrous. He appealed to Captain

Montfort to support him, to exercisehis authority, to persuade this dear childthat the noble idea which filled heryoung and ardent heart was whollyimpracticable.

Jim Montfort was silent for a time,looking at Rita from under his heavyeyebrows. Presently "You mean it " hesaid.

"I mean it with all my heart!" said Rita.

"Well," said Jim, "my opinion isconsidering my sister Peggy and herviews, to say nothing of Jean and Floramy opinion is, Rita hurrah for you!"

A month ago, Rita would have goneinto violent heroics at such a momentas this. As it was, she smiled, thoughher eyes filled with tears, and said,quietly, "Thank you, cousin! It is what Iexpected from Peggy's brother."

"May I speak " said another voice. Theyturned, and saw Jack Delmonte, hisblue eyes alight with eager gladness.

"If if Miss Montfort has this nobledesire to help in the good cause," hesaid, "it is easy for her to do it. Mymother has turned her residencia, justoutside the city, into a hospital. I amgoing there to-day. She needs morehelp, I know. You you would like my

mother, Miss Montfort; everybody likesmy mother. She would do all she couldto make it easy for you, and she wouldbe so glad oh, I can't tell you how gladshe would be. And I think you are quitecertain to like her."

"Ah!" said Rita. "Have I not heard ofthe Saint of Las Rosas There is no needto tell me how good and how noble theSenora Delmonte is. But but will shelike me, Captain Captain Jack "

"Will she " said Jack. "Will the sunshine "

CHAPTER XV.

A FOREGONE CONCLUSION.

LAS ROSAS, June , 1898.

DEAR UNCLE JOHN: Since I lastwrote you, telling of our finding Rita,and of her safe delivery to SenoraDelmonte, things have been happening.In the first place, I got a shot in my leg,in a skirmish, and, as the bone wasbroken, and it didn't seem to comeround as it ought, I came here to becoddled, and am having a great time ofit. Senora Delmonte is a fine woman,sir. You don't see many such women ina lifetime. She has a little hospital here,

as complete as if she had New YorkCity in her back dooryard; all her ownplace, you understand. Kind ofFlorence Nightingale woman. What'smore, little Rita promises to becomeher right hand; if she's given a chance,that is I'll come to that by and by,though. The way that little girl takeshold, sir, is a caution. She's quick, andshe's quiet, and she's cheerful; and shehas brains in her head, which is amighty good thing in a woman whenyou do find it. She and SenoraDelmonte are like mother and daughteralready; and this brings me tosomething else I want to say. It's prettyclear that Jack Delmonte has lost hisheart to this little girl of ours. It began,

I suspect, the night he carried her offfrom the Spaniards; you have heard allabout that; and it's been going on here,while a little flesh wound he had washealing. Yes, sir, he's in it deep, and nomistake; and, for that matter, I guessshe is, too, though those things aren't inmy line. Anyhow, what I want to say isthis: Jack Delmonte is as fine a fellow asthere is this side of the Rockies; and Idon't know that I'll stop there, barringmy brother Hugh. This war isn't goingto last much longer. By some kind ofmiracle, this place sugar plantation, andwell paying in good times hasn't beenmeddled with; and Jack ought to beable to support a wife, if he puts goodwork into the business, as he will. He's

a first-rate all-round fellow, and hasbrains 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 adouble team, my opinion is it would bea mighty good thing, and I hope you'llgive them your blessing and all that sortof thing, when the time comes.

Much obliged for your letter, but sorryyour knee still bothers you. Father hasbeen laid up, too, so he writes;rheumatism. I'm getting on first-rate,and shall be out of this soon. I think amonth or so more will see the wholeblooming business over, and peace

declared. Time, too! this is no kind of acountry to stay in.

Your affectionate nephew, JAMESMONTFORT.

P.S. Tell Cousin Margaret that J. D. is allright.

LAS ROSAS, June , 1898.

MY DEAR MR. MONTFORT: Iwonder if you remember Mary Russell,with whom you used to dance now andthen when you came to Claxton in theold days, we will not say how manyyears ago. I certainly have not forgottenthe pleasant partner who waltzed so

well, and I am glad to have theopportunity of claiming acquaintancewith you. I meant to write as soon asyour niece arrived at my house, but thebattle in this neighbourhood the dayafter brought us such an influx ofwounded that my hands were very full,and the hasty dictated line was all Icould manage. We are now in a littleeddy of the storm (which, we hope, isnearly over), and have only a dozenmen in the house, and most of theseconvalescent; so I must not delaylonger in assuring you of the very greatpleasure and help it has been to me tohave Margarita with me. Indeed, Ihardly know what I should have donewithout her the first week, as two of

my nurses were ill just at the time whenwe were fullest. She shows a remarkableaptitude for nursing, which is rathersingular, as she tells me that until latelyshe has been extremely timid aboutsuch matters, fainting at the sight ofblood, etc. You never would think itnow, to see her going about her work inthe wards. The patients idolise her, andwhat is more (and less common), so dothe nurses, who declare that she willmiss her vocation if she does not gointo a training-school as soon as sheleaves Las Rosas; but I fancy you wouldnot choose so arduous a life for her.

This brings me, my dear Mr. Montfort,to what is really the chief object in mywriting to you to-day. Without beatingabout the bush, I am going to say, atonce and frankly, that my dear son,Jack, has become deeply attached to thischarming niece of yours. Who could besurprised at it she must always havebeen charming; but the sweetness andthoughtfulness that I have seengrowing day by day while she has beenunder my charge are, I somehow fancy,a new phase of her development.Indeed, Rita herself has told me, in hervivid way, of some of the wild pranksof her "unguided youth," as she calls it,the child will be nineteen, I believe, onher next birthday! and we have laughed

and shaken our heads together overthem. She is far more severe uponherself than I can be, for I see thequick, impulsive nature, and see, too,how it is being subdued and broughtmore and more under control by astrong will and a good heart. A verynoble woman our Rita will make, if shehas the right surroundings.

Can we give her these that is thequestion; a question for you to answer,dear Mr. Montfort. Jack saw readily,when I pointed it out to him, that itwould not be suitable for him to speakof love to an orphan girl an heiress,too, I believe without her guardian'sexpress consent. He chafes at the delay,

for he is very ardent, being half Cuban;but you may have entire confidencethat he will say nothing to Rita until Ihear from you.

You can easily find out about Jack;there is nothing in his life that he needconceal. Colonel G. and Mrs. B , inNew York, Professor Searcher andDoctor Lynx, of Blank College, will tellyou of his school and college days; andCaptain Montfort will, I think, say agood word for his record as a soldierand a patriot. Of course, in my eyes, heis a little bit of a hero; but maternalprejudice laid aside (if such a thing maybe!), I can truly say that he is a clean,honest, high-minded man, with a

sound constitution and an excellentdisposition. Add to this a moderateincome (not, I am happy to say, enoughto allow him to dispense with work,were he inclined to do so, which he isnot), and a very earnest and devotedattachment, and you have the wholecase before you. May I hope to haveyour answer as soon as you shall havesatisfied yourself on the various pointson which you will naturally seekinformation I assure you that, with thebest intentions in the world, Jack doesfind it hard to restrain himself. Let meadd that, if your answer is favourable, itwill make me as well as my son veryhappy. Rita is all that I could wish forin 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 RUSSELLDELMONTE.

P.S. You may ask, does Rita return Jack'saffection I think she does!

SANTIAGO, June , 1898.

HONOURED SENOR: Your valuedletter, containing inquiries on thesubject of Senor Captain JohnDelmonte is at hand and contentsnotified. I hasten to reply with all the

ardour of which I am capacious. Thisyoung man is a nobleman; few princeshave equalled him in virtuous worth.Brave, honourable, pious (thoughProtestant; but this belief is probablyyour own, and is held by many ofthose most valuable to me, yourhonoured brother among them), afaithful and obedient son, a leaderbeloved to rapture by his soldiers. Ifmore could be to say, I would hasten tocry it aloud. You tell me, with noblefrankness, he is a pretender for thehand of my beloved Margarita; alreadyit has been my happiness to be awareof it. Senor Montfort, to see these twoadmirable young persons united in theholy bondages of weddinglock is the

last and chief wish of my life. Iearnestly beg your sanction of theirunition. In Jack I find a son for mysolitary age; in Margarita a daughter, themost tender as she is the most beautifulthat the world contains. To close myaged eyes on seeing them unified, is, Irepeat it, the one wish of,

Honoured Senor, Your most obedientand humble servitor, MIGUELPIETOSO.

LAS ROSAS, June , 1898.

MY DEAR MR. MONFORT: I havejust read your letter to my mother, and Iwant to thank you before I do anything

else. There isn't much to say, except thatI will do my best to be in some degreeworthy of this treasure, if I win it. Iwill try to make her happy, sir, I willindeed. No one could be good enoughfor 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, Iwant you so much! I am so happy, sowonderfully, almost terribly happy, howcan 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 isan evening of heaven, the moon wasshining for me, for me and oh, butwait! I was in the garden, resting afterthe day's work; I had been asleep, andnow would take the remainder of myfree time in waking rest. The air wasbalm, the roses all in blossom. Suchroses were never seen, Marguerite; theplace is named for them, Las Rosas.They are in bowers, in garlands, inheaps and mounds I smell them now.The rose is my flower, remember that,my life long. I used to tell you it was thejessamine; the jessamine is a simpleton,I tell you. I was picking white roses, thekind that blushes a little warm at its

heart when I heard some one coming. Iknew who it was; can I tell how It wasCaptain Jack. I trembled. He came tome, he spoke, he took my hand. Oh, mydear, my dear, I cannot tell you what hesaid; but he loves me; he is my Jack, Iam his Rita. Marguerite, will you tell mehow it can be true Your wild, silly,foolish Rita, playing at emotions all herchildish life: she wakes up, she beginsto try to be a little like you, my bestone; and all of a sudden she findsherself in Paradise, with a warrior angelMarguerite, I did not think of it till thismoment; my Jack is the express imageof St. Michael. His nose tips up theleast bit in the world I don't mind it; itgives life, dash, to his wonderful face;

otherwise there is no difference. My St.Michael! my soldier, my Star ofHorsemen! Marguerite, no girl was everso happy since the world was made.Oh, don't think me fickle; let me tellyou! In the South here, are we differentIt must be so. I was fond of Santayana;but that was in another life. I was asentimental, passionate child; he washandsome as a picture; it was a dreamof seventeen. Now can you believe thatI am a little grown up I really think Iam. Perhaps I think it most becausenow, for the first time, I really want tobe like you, Marguerite. I used to be sopleased with being myself I was thevainest creature that ever lived. Now, Iwant 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 poordarling There is only one man in theworld good enough for you, and he ismine. I cannot give him up, even toyou, my saint. I have two saints now; Iought to be a Catholic. The second oneis his mother, the Saint of Las Rosas, asshe is called all through this part of theisland. Marguerite, I must strive togrow like her, too, if such a thing werepossible. I have work enough for mylife, but what blessed work! to try tomake 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 fromthat moment, she says; oh, Marguerite, Iwill try to be a good one. Hear me no! Iam not going to make vows any more,or talk like girls in novels; I am justgoing to try. I loved her from the firstmoment I saw her grave, beautiful face.She took me in her arms, my dear; shesaid things I have come up here toweep alone, tears of happiness. Dearest,you alone knew thoroughly the oldRita, the foolish creature, who dies, in away, to-night. Say good-bye to her; giveher a kiss, Marguerite, for she too lovedyou; but not half as dearly as does thenew, 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)