I cannot truthfully say that he made any definite promise, but this was the impression I received:--Knowing that all my father's property was forfeit to the law, he had exerted his influence to secure it. At that time he thought the trouble would be settled without fighting, and intended in a year or two to restore the estates. When the war broke out, he endeavoured to bring the viceroy over to the cause of reform, but finding that impossible, was compelled reluctantly to join the Patriots. Of course, in the matter of the estates, nothing could be done now till the war was over. "Thus," said he cheerfully, "the future is safe. If the Patriots win, we can have the confiscation revoked; while, on the other hand, I count so many friends among the moderate Royalists that the viceroy would hardly care to thwart me." "In any case," said I bluntly, though with no wish to vex him, "the Indians will see that I am not wronged!" "Trust me," he answered, his voice sounding now like the purring of a cat; "Felipe Montilla never makes mistakes." I had a stinging reply on my lips, but refraining from giving it utterance, I bade him farewell. "Come again, Juan," said he, "if the general can spare you!" And though not overburdened with wits, I had a sense of being laughed at. I was joined in the corridor by Rosa, who wanted to know why I was going so soon. "I really must," I answered, smiling. "I have spent no time with my mother yet, and I may be sent for at any moment." "But this will not be _good-bye_?" "On the contrary, I hope to see you often. Your father has given me the kindest of invitations." At this she opened her eyes wide; but quickly recovering herself, she smiled pleasantly, and accompanied me to the hall. As I rode by, she was standing at a window waving her hand. I had much to think of during the short ride home, but I got little satisfaction from my thoughts. Nothing had been gained by my visit to Montilla, and his story only went to confirm the truth of the reports of my father's death. As to my faith in his startling promises, it grew weaker with every step my horse took. I said nothing to my mother; but Jose, to whom I related all that had passed, laughed loudly. "The cunning old fox!" cried he; "he hasn't his equal for craft in Peru! You will see that, whoever sinks, Don Felipe Montilla will swim." "Not at my expense," I exclaimed, "while I have strength to raise an arm." The rest of that day I spent with my mother, forcing myself to forget that any trouble existed in the world. It was only a brief spell of happiness, but we enjoyed every second of it, and by nightfall my mother's face had lost some of its sadness, and her eyes shone brightly as in the olden days.