, he
says:--

"Under that roof are three hearts beating anxiously now, I know. Soon
to be sadder, though; possibly, one of them to break outright. _Pobere
senora_! what will she say when she hears--when she sees this?
_Santissima_! 'twill go wellnigh killing her, if it don't quite!"

While speaking, he has glanced over his shoulder at the other horseman,
who is half a length behind. But again facing to the house, and fixing
his gaze upon it, he continues:--

"And Cypriano--poor lad! He'll have his little heart sorely tried, too.
So fond of his cousin, and no wonder, such a sweet _chiquitita_. That
will be a house of mourning, when I get home to it!"

Once more he pauses in his muttered speech, as if to consider something.
Then, looking up at the sun, proceeds:

"It'll be full two hours yet before that sets. Withal I must wait for
its setting. 'Twill never do to take him home in broad daylight. No;
she mustn't see him thus, and sha'n't--if I can help it. I'll stop here
till it's dark, and, meanwhile, think about the best way of breaking it
to her. _Carramba_! that will be a scene! I could almost wish myself
without eyes, rather than witness it. Ah! me! It'll be enough painful
to listen to their lamentations."

In conformity with, the intention just declared, he turns his horse's
head towards a grand _ombu_--growing not far off--the same which, the
day before, guided him back to his lost way--and riding on to it pulls
up beneath its spreading branches. The other horse, following, stops
too. But the man upon his back stays there, while the gaucho acts
differently; dismounting, and attaching the bridles of both horses to a
branch of the tree. Then he stretches himself along the earth, not to
seek sleep or rest, but the better to give his thoughts to reflection,
on that about which he has been speaking.

He has not been many minutes in his recumbent attitude before being
aroused from it. With his ears so close to the ground, sounds are
carried to him from afar, and one now reaching them causes him first to
start into a sitting posture, and then stand upon his feet. It is but
the trample of a horse, and looking in the direction whence it comes
sees the animal itself, and its rider soon is seen, recognising both.

"Cypriano!" he mechanically exclaims, adding, "_Pobrecito_! He's been
impatient; anxious; too much to stay for my return, and now's coming
after."

It is Cypriano, approaching from the d