e convent, and I return to Havana, a
man distracted. I should say that in the carriage was found the long
mantle in which the senorita had been gracefully attired; to its fold a
note pinned, addressed me in affectionate terms, begging her dear Donito
Miguelito not to have fear, that she was going to Don Carlos, her
brother, and all would be well. Since then is two days, senor, that I
have not closed the eye. I attend a fit of illness, from grief and
anxiousness. In duty I intelligence you of this dolorous event, praying
you not to think me guilty of sin without pardon. I have deputed a
messenger of trust to scrub thoroughly the country in search of Don
Carlos, death to await him if he return without news of my beloved
senorita. He is gone now twelve hours. If it arrive me at any moment the
tidings, I make instantly to convey them to your Excellency, whether of
joy or affliction.

Receive, highly honoured senor, the assurance of my consideration the
most elevated.

MIGUEL PIETOSO.

CHAPTER III.

ON THE WAY.

"Ah, senorita! what will become of us? I can go no farther. Will this
wilderness never end?"

"Courage, Manuela! Courage, daughter of Cuba! See, it is growing light
already. Look at those streaks of gold in the east. A few moments, and
the sky will be bright; then we shall see where we are going, and all
will be well. In the meantime, we are free, and on Cuban soil. What can
harm us?"

Rita looked around her with kindling eyes. She was standing on a rock
that jutted from the hillside; it was a friendly rock, and they had been
sleeping under it, wrapped in their warm cloaks, for the night was
cool. A group of palms nodded their green plumes over the rock; on
every side stretched a tangle of shrubs and tall grasses, broken here
and there by palms, or by rocks like this. Standing thus in the early
morning light, Rita was a picturesque figure indeed. She was dressed in
a blouse and short skirt of black serge, with a white kerchief knotted
around her throat, and another twisted carelessly around her
broad-brimmed straw hat. Her beautiful face was alight with eager
inquiry and determination; her eyes roved over the landscape, as if
seeking some familiar figure; but all was strange so far. Manuela,
crouching at the foot of the rock, had lost, for the moment, all the
fire of her patriotism. She was cold, poor Manuela; also, she had had a
heavy bag to carry,