She was happy when Seraphina let her sit at her feet, and hold her hand. She would pat it with gentle taps, squatting shapelessly on a low stool. “Why go so far from thy old nurse, darling of my heart? Ah! love is love, and we have only one life to live, but this England is very far--very far away.” She nodded her big iron-gray head slowly; and to our longing England appeared very distant, too, a fortunate isle across the seas, an abode of peace, a sanctuary of love. There was no plan open to us but the one laid down by Sebright. The secrecy of our sojourn at the _hacienda_ had, in a measure, failed, though there was no reason to suppose the two peons had broken their oath. Our arrival at dawn had been unobserved, as far as we knew, and the domestic slaves, mostly girls, had been kept from all communication with the field hands outside. All these square leagues of the estate were very much out of the world, and this isolation had not been broken upon by any of O’Brien’s agents coming out to spy. It seemed to be the only part of Seraphina’s great possessions that remained absolutely her own. Not a whisper of any sort of news reached us in our hiding-place till the fourth evening, when one of the _vaqueros_ reported to Enrico that, riding on the inland boundary, he had fallen in with a company of infantry encamped on the edge of a little wood. Troops were being moved upon Rio Medio. He brought a note from the officer in command of that party. It contained nothing but a requisition for twenty head of cattle. The same night we left the _hacienda_. It was a starry darkness. Behind us the soft wailing of the old woman at the gate died out: “So far! So very far!” We left the long street of the slave village on the left, and walked down the gentle slope of the open glade towards the little river. Seraphina’s hair was concealed in the crown of a wide sombrero and, wrapped up in a serape, she looked so much like a cloaked vaquero that one missed the jingle of spurs out of her walk. Enrico had fitted me out in his own clothes from top to toe. He carried a lanthorn, and we followed the circle of light that swayed and trembled upon the short grass. There was no one else with us, the crew of the _drogher_ being already on board to await our coming. Her mast appeared above the roof of some low sheds grouped about a short wooden jetty. Enrico raised the lamp high to light us, as we stepped on board. Not a word was spoken; the five negroes of the crew (Enrico answered for their fidelity) moved about noiselessly, almost invisible. Blocks rattled feebly aloft. “Enrico,” said Seraphina, “do not forget to put a stone cross over poor Castro’s grave.”