"Don't be afraid," I said; "joy never kills."
I laid him gently upon the grass; Donna Luz knelt by him, and bedewed him with tears. Don Jaime soon revived and came to himself, while the young Creole, turning about, hid her face in her hands with that strange mixture of modesty and passion which lent an additional charm to her beauty.
"You must come with us no farther," said the Biscayan to me. "You have risked enough in our service, and I will abuse your kindness no longer; but, before parting, I have another favor to ask of you: it is that you take my cloak in exchange for yours; it will aid my disguise more effectually."
I consented to his request.
"You will gain little by the bargain," said Don Jaime, with a smile; "but you have done me a great service. Since you are not bound in any particular direction, you may perhaps come to Guanajuato. I shall remain a fortnight there, and you can easily find me out, and I shall be but too happy to express to you once more the gratitude which I shall feel for you all my life."
The parting moment came. We assisted the lady to her saddle. Don Jaime then mounted. Untying the mandolin which hung at his saddle-bow,
"Take this," he cried, "and keep it as a remembrance of me. For a long time this instrument and hope were all my possessions; now, instead of hope, God has given me the reality."
The tears stood in his eyes. He shook me by the hand a second time. Donna Luz paid me with a smile more than she owed me, and the pair galloped away. I followed them with my eye for a long time involuntarily, thinking that there was much between
