The friends left the hermitage with varied emotions, which we will not try to interpret. They went slowly down the side of the mountain into the long ravine, thence out upon a more cheerful lay of the ground, where they found the walking more to their liking. They were in no hurry to reach the hunter's home; for darkness, they decided, should cover their entrance to it. A half hour after the arrival of the party at Tezcot's found Cacami on his way to the camp of the soldiers to inform them of the intended early departure for the valley on the morrow; and also to make a detail of men to be at the hunter's at an early hour in the morning, to bear the palanquin in which the hermit was to make the journey. At the same time Euetzin and Mitla were out for a quiet talk. They were just approaching the little knoll where their last meeting occurred some weeks before, and he was saying: "This spot would presently become memorable to us if our meetings on it should be continued." "Yes, and you might add, for me, at least, not less endeared than memorable," she replied. "I shall take pleasure in looking back to it, be assured, Mitla, and will try to imagine that I see you seated upon it in quiet happiness," he said, as they were sitting down. "And I am going to ask that you will permit your thoughts to occasionally dwell upon this hour, and that other; for, Mitla, I wish to be remembered." "Can it be, tzin Euet, that you deem it possible for me to forget you, though a cycle in years were added to my natural life? How little do you understand the heart of woman, especially mine, so full of undying gratitude," returned the stricken maiden, her voice suddenly subsiding in a hush of sadness; for his words told her that the door of his heart was still shut against her. "You say truly, Mitla; I am, indeed, incapable of understanding the heart of woman, or I would not be continually saying things which should be left unsaid. I know very well that for either of us to forget is an impossibility; for, to do so, it would be necessary to forget an incident, the terrible circumstances of which are indelibly fixed upon each of our memories. You must forgive my blundering, and believe me truly regretful, Mitla, that I am so thoughtless of speech," said he, contritely. "There is nothing to forgive. I am foolishly sensitive, that is all," she answered, with a sigh. "Forget it." "No, Mitla, I shall not forget it," he replied, "but will only let it pass, to be a reminder, in the future, that I must guard my tongue." "As you please, but, pray, do not allow it to annoy you," she returned, with an effort at cheerfulness. Seeing the effort, and thinking to encourage it, the tzin said: "Now you appear more like yourself--more like the Mitla I first knew. Cheerfulness is natural to you, and you should continually court its presence, for its absence leaves you a loser."