but who--as once her own father--had the misfortune to belong to the
party now out of power; many of them in exile, or retired upon their
estates in the country--for the time taking no part in politics. As for
himself, he had not been lately seen in the city of Mexico, though it
was said he was still in the country; as rumour had it, hiding away
somewhere among the mountains. And rumour went further, even to the
defiling of his fair name. There were reports of his having become a
robber, and that, under another name, he was now chief of a band of
_salteadores_, whose deeds were oft heard of on the Acapulco Road, where
this crosses the mountains near that place of many murders--the Cruzdel
Marques.

Nothing of this sinister tale, however, had reached the ears of Don
Ignacio's daughter. Nor till that day--indeed that very hour--had she,
more interested in him, heard aught of it. Hence much of the wild
excitement under which she was labouring.

"Forgive me, Ysabel!" said her friend, opening her arms, and receiving
the Countess in sympathetic embrace; "forgive me for the mistake I have
made."

"Nay, 'tis I who should ask forgiveness," returned the other, seeing the
misapprehension her words had caused, with their distressing effect. "I
ought to have spoken plainer. But you know how much my thoughts have
been dwelling on dear Ruperto."

She did know, or should, judging by herself, and how hers had been
dwelling on dear Florencio.

"But, Ysabel: you say they made him a prisoner! Who has done that, and
why?"

"The soldiers of the State. As to why, you can easily guess. Because
he belongs to the party of Liberals. That's why, and nothing else. But
they don't say so. I've something more to tell you. Would you believe
it, Luisita, that they accuse him of being a _salteador_?"

"I can believe him accused of it--some of those in power now are wicked
enough for anything--but not guilty. You remember we were acquainted
with Don Ruperto, before that sad time when we were compelled to leave
the country. I should say he would be the last man to stain his
character by becoming a robber."

"The very last man! Robber indeed! My noble Ruperto the purest of
patriots, purer than any in this degenerate land. _Ay-de-mi_!"

"Where did they take him, and when?"

"Somewhere near San Augustin, and I think, several days ago, though I've
only just heard of it."

"Strange that. As you know, I've been staying at San