"I must look to my horse and arms," said I, rising, and going towards the door, in hopes of meeting her without. "They have been attended to; Gode is there. Come, boy! She is not in the hall. Stay where you are. I will get the arms you want. Adele! Zoe! Oh, doctor, you are returned with your weeds! It is well. We journey to-morrow. Adele, some coffee, love! and then let us have some music. Your guest leaves you to-morrow." The bright form rushed between us with a scream. "No, no, no, no!" she exclaimed, turning from one to the other, with the wild appeal of a passionate heart. "Come, little dove!" said the father, taking her by the hands; "do not be so easily fluttered. It is but for a short time. He will return again." "How long, papa? How long, Enrique?" "But a very short while. It will be longer to me than to you, Zoe." "Oh! no, no; an hour will be a long time. How many hours do you think, Enrique?" "Oh! we shall be gone days, I fear." "Days! Oh, papa! Oh, Enrique! Days!" "Come, little chit; they will soon pass. Go! Help your mamma to make the coffee." "Oh, papa! Days; long days. They will not soon pass when I am alone." "But you will not be alone. Your mamma will be with you." "Ah!" And with a sigh, and an air of abstraction, she departed to obey the command of her father. As she passed out at the door, she again sighed audibly. The doctor was a silent and wondering spectator of this last scene; and as her figure vanished into the hall, I could hear him muttering to himself-- "Oh ja! Poor leetle fraulein! I thought as mosh." CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. UP THE DEL NORTE. I will not distress you with a parting scene. We were in our saddles before the stars had died out, and riding along the sandy road. At a short distance from the house the path angled, striking into thick, heavy timber. Here I checked my horse, allowing my companions to pass, and, standing in the stirrup, looked back. My eyes wandered along the old grey walls, and sought the azotea. Upon the very edge of the parapet, outlined against the pale light of the aurora, was the object I looked for. I could not distinguish the features, but I easily recognised the oval curvings of the figure, cut like a dark medallion against the sky. She was standing near one of the yucca palm trees that grew up from the azotea. Her hand rested upon its trunk, and she bent forward, straining her gaze into the darkness below. Perhaps she saw the waving of a kerchief; perhaps she heard her name, and echoed the parting prayer that was sent back to her on the still breath of the morning. If so, her voice was drowned by the tread of my chafing horse, that, wheeling suddenly, bore me off into the sombre shadows of the forest.