"Send your horse on," said I, "and let me walk with you to the house. There is something on which I wish to speak seriously to you." "Is it a penance for my sins?" she laughed, holding up her riding-habit. "Please don't be too severe, Juan! Now begin, and I will try to be good." "To begin is not so easy as you think, Rosa; but first let me tell you one thing--the Spaniards will never again be masters of Peru." "Pouf!" cried she, tossing her head; "that is rubbish, and says little for your understanding, Juan." "I am sorry you don't believe it; yet it is true, nevertheless. There are Royalists in Lima who hope otherwise, but they will be disappointed. More than that, some of them who are working secretly against us will meet with just punishment." "What is that to me? I can't work for the king, being only a girl, but no one can accuse me of hiding my opinions." I could have laughed at that had I been in the mood for merriment. All Lima knew that Peru did not contain a stancher Royalist than Rosa Montilla. "It is not of you I speak, but of the so-called Patriots, who are sedulously plotting for the enemy. Already names have been mentioned, and before long some of these people will be shot." I think it was then she first began to suspect my meaning. Her eyes flashed fire, and looking me full in the face, she cried,-- "What is all this to me? What have I to do with your wretched story?" My face was hot, my forehead clammy with perspiration. I mumbled out my reply like a toothless old woman. "Don't be angry, Rosa," I said. "I hate to give you pain, but--but--can't you understand?" "No," replied she calmly; "I understand nothing." "I wish to warn you," I continued desperately--"to put you on your guard. There is a rumour--I heard it in camp, but I do not vouch for its truth--" "Come, make an end of this," she said haughtily, "or allow me to proceed to the house. What is this rumour which seems to have tied your tongue so?" "I will tell you. It is said that the leader of the conspiracy is Don Felipe Montilla! Let me--" "Thank you, Juan Crawford," said she, making a superb gesture of disdain. "Now go! If our friendship has given you the right to insult me thus, you have that excuse no longer. Go, I say, before I call the servants to whip you from the place." I tried in vain to offer some explanation. "Go, senor, go!" she repeated, and at last I turned sorrowfully away. I had done my best and failed. I had lost my friend, and had effected no good, for I saw by her face that she would think it treason to mention the subject to her father. And as I rode from the gate, I wondered whether, after all, we had been mistaken in our judgment. CHAPTER XX. "SAVE HIM, JUAN, SAVE HIM!" "Aren't you coming, Juan?" Two days had passed since my interview with Rosa Montilla, and I was sitting in my room at the barracks, feeling at enmity with all the world.