As he did not hurry, he met several officers, but they wisely affected not to see what they did not wish to see. For Doctor Worth was a person to whom very wide latitude might be given. To both the military and the civilians his skill was a necessity. The attitude he had taken was privately discussed, but no one publicly acted or even commented upon it. Perhaps he was a little disappointed at this. He had come to a point when a frank avowal of his opinions would be a genuine satisfaction; when, in fact, his long-repressed national feeling was imperious. On the third morning, as he crossed the Plaza, some one called him. The voice made his heart leap; his whole nature responded to it like the strings of a harp to the sweep of a skilful hand. He turned quickly, and saw two young men galloping towards him. The foremost figure was his son--his beloved youngest son--whom he had just been thinking of as well out of danger, safe and happy in the peaceful halls of Columbia. And lo! here he was in the very home of the enemy; and he was glad of it. “Why, Jack!” he cried; “Why, Jack, my boy! I never thought of you here.” He had his hand on the lad’s shoulder, and was gazing into his bright face with tears and smiles and happy wonder. “Father, I had to come. And there are plenty more coming. And here is my other self--the best fellow that ever lived: Darius Grant. ‘Dare’ we call him, father, for there is not anything he won’t venture if he thinks it worth the winning. And how is mi madre and Antonia, and Iza? And isn’t it jolly to see you with a rifle?” “Well, Dare; well, Jack; you are both welcome; never so welcome to Texas as at this hour. Come home at once and, refresh yourselves.” There was so much to tell that at first the conversation was in fragments and exclamations, and the voices of the two young men, pitched high and clear in their excitement, went far before them as if impatient of their welcome. Antonia heard them first. She was on the balcony, standing thoughtful and attent. It seemed to her as if in those days she was always listening. Jack’s voice was the loudest, but she heard Dare’s first. It vibrated in midair and fell upon her consciousness, clear and sweet as a far-away bell. “That is Dare’s voice--HERE.” She leaned forward, her soul hearkened after the vibrations, and again they called her. With swift steps she reached the open door. Rachela sat in her chair within it. “The Senorita had better remain within,” she said, sullenly; “the sun grows hot.” “Let me pass, Rachela, I am in a hurry.” “To be sure, the Senorita will have her way--good or bad.”