Good old Antonio was at the little gate, so I dismounted and spoke a word with him, though my feet itched to be dashing along the courtyard. Then I sent my horse to the stables, with strict orders that it should be carefully groomed and fed, and made comfortable. At last! My heart beat loudly; my head was dizzy; I could barely distinguish the figures in the hall. But my mother's arms were round me, her lips pressed close to mine, in a fond embrace. Then came my father's welcome, and presently, in the brilliantly-lit drawing-room, a young girl came forward and placed her hand in mine. She was dressed in black, and looked somewhat sad and careworn, as if life had not been particularly pleasant of late. "Welcome home, Juan," said she softly; and I saw by her face she was thinking of the night when I had ridden hurriedly away in the vain endeavour to save her father's life. We did not speak of it then, and when, after changing my clothes, I returned to the drawing-room, Rosa was not there. "She has gone to her own room," explained my mother, noticing my look of disappointment. "It would have been difficult for the poor child to stay with us this first evening." "She has heard of her father's death, then?" "Yes," said my father, quickly and with a warning glance. "She knows that the Indians shot him, thinking he had been in correspondence with the Royalists." I understood at once that my father was aware of the truth, but that, with his usual kindly thought, he had kept it from both the bereaved girl and my mother. He never alluded to the miserable incident, nor did I; and Rosa was left in ignorance of the real reason for her father's untimely end. Of course, we sat late talking over my adventures in the mountains, and of the terrible battle which had secured the independence of Peru. "Yes," said my father confidently, "whatever else happens, the Spaniards will never again rule over this country; their power is broken. But we are not yet out of the wood: as a Peruvian, I still fear Bolivar's ambition." "Oh," I exclaimed gaily, "I had forgotten Bolivar! He has made me a captain!" and I told them all about my interview with the celebrated general. "I admit his good points," laughed my father; "but I do not like to see one person invested with such tremendous power. Still, there is no doubt we owe our liberty in great part to his wonderful energy, together with his determination never to acknowledge defeat. He has toiled day and night like a slave." "I shall be glad when your regiment returns, Juan," said my mother. "I am longing to see your brave friends, and especially Alzura. I seem to know him quite well already." "You are sure to like him, mother. He is a delightful companion, full of fun, and always laughing and joking. Plaza is older and more of a soldier, but I owe a great deal to his kindness."