We spoke in English; but at the mention of Rosa's name the mountaineer scowled savagely, and leaned forward as if to take part in the conversation. "The man has come from the mountains with a message for your mother," said Jose; "I met him at the entrance to the park. But if Rosa Montilla is here, the news is known already." His face was very pale, and he spoke haltingly, as if his words were burdensome, and there was a look in his eyes which I had never seen before. I motioned to Antonio, and the two passed through. What message did they bring? What news could link dainty little Rosa with this wild outlaw of the hills? Jose jumped to the ground and walked with me, laying a hand on my shoulder. Until then I had no thought of the truth, but the touch of his fingers sent a shiver of fear through me, and I looked at his face in alarm. "What is it, Jose?" I asked; "what has happened? Why did Rosa steal here alone and sob in my mother's arms as if her heart would break?" "The little maid has heard bad news," he answered quietly, "though how I do not know." "And as she had no mother, she came to mine for comfort," I said. "It was a happy thought: mother will make her forget her trouble." Jose stopped, and looked searchingly in my face. "Poor boy!" he said. "You have no idea of the truth, and how can I tell you? The little maid did not weep for her own sorrow, but for yours and your mother's." At that I understood without further words, though I was to learn more soon. The reason of it I guessed, though not the matter; but I knew that somewhere my dear father lay dead--killed by order of the Spanish viceroy. Jose saw from my face that I knew, and there was sympathy in the very touch of his hand. "It is true," he whispered. "The Spaniards trapped him in the mountains, whither he had gone to meet the Indians. They wished to rise against the government; but he knew it was madness just now, and thought to keep them quiet till his own plans were ready." "And the Spaniards slew him?" "Yes," replied Jose simply. "Here," pointing to the mountaineer, "is our witness." "But how did Rosa hear of it? she was not in the mountains. Ah, I forgot! Her father stands high in the viceroy's favour. And so my father is dead!" The thought unnerved me, and I could have cried aloud in my sorrow. "Hold up your head, boy!" exclaimed the harsh voice of the mountaineer. "Tears are for women and girls. Years ago my father's head was cut off, but I did not cry. I took my gun and went to the mountains," and he finished with a bitter laugh. "But my mother!" I said. "The news will break her heart." "The world will not know it," he answered, and he spoke truly. "I am glad the little maid has told her," remarked Jose, giving his horse and that of the stranger to a serving-man. "Jack, do you go in and prepare her for our coming."