"It was her room--we have not touched anything."
"And where is your cousin now?"
"We know not."
"There is a mystery," thought I. I pressed the subject no farther. It
was nothing to me now. My heart was happy.
"Let us walk farther, Lupita."
She turned her eyes upon me with an expression of wonder. The change in
my manner--so sudden--how was she to account for it? I could have knelt
before her and explained all. Reserve disappeared, and the confidence
of the preceding night was fully restored.
We wandered along under the _guardarayas_, amidst sounds and scenes
suggestive of love and tenderness. Love! We heard it in the songs of
the birds--in the humming of the bees--in the voices of all nature
around us. We felt it in our own hearts. The late cloud had passed,
making the sky still brighter than before; the reaction had heightened
our mutual passion to the intensity of non-resistance; and we walked on,
her hand clasped in mine. We had eyes only for each other.
We reached a clump of cocoa-trees; one of them had fallen, and its
smooth trunk offered a seat, protected from the sun by the shadowy
leaves of its fellows. On this we sat down. There was no resistance--
no reasoning process--no calculation of advantages and chances, such as
is too often mingled with the noble passion of love. We felt nothing of
this--nothing but that undefinable impulse which had entered our hearts,
and to whose mystical power neither of us dreamed of offering
opposition. Delay and duty were alike forgotten.
"I shall ask the question now--I shall know my fate at once," were my
thoughts.
In the changing scenes of a soldier's life there is but little time for
the slow formalities, the zealous vigils, the complicated _finesse_ of
courtship. Perhaps this consideration impelled me. I have but little
confidence in the cold heart that is won by a series of assiduities.
There is too much calculation of after-events--too much selfishness.
These reflections passed through my mind. I bent towards my companion,
and whispered to her in that language--rich above all others in the
vocabulary of the heart:
"_Guadalupe, tu me amas_?" (Guadalupe, do you love me?)
"_Yo te amo_!" was the simple reply. Need I describe the joyful
feelings that filled my heart at that moment? My happiness was
complete.
The confession rendered her sacred in my eyes, and we sat for some time
silent, enjoying that transport only known to those who have truly,
purely loved.
The trampling of hoofs! It was Clayley at the head of the troop. They
were mounted, and waiting for me. Don Cosme was impatient; so was the
Dona Joaquina. I could not blame them, knowing the cause.
"Ride forward! I shall follow presently."
The horsemen filed off into the fields, headed by the lieutenant, beside
whom rode Don Cosme, on his white mule.
"You will soon return, Enrique?"
"I shall lose no opportunity of seeing you. I shall long for the hour
more than you, I fear."
"Oh! no, no!"
"Believe me yes, Lupita! Say again you will never cease to love me."
"Never, never! _Tuya--tuya--hasta la muerte_!" (Yours--yours--till
death!)
How often has this question been asked! How often answered as above!
I sprang into the saddle. A parting look--another from a distance--a
wave of the hand--and the next moment I was urging my horse in full
gallop under the shadowy palms.