But they pa.s.sed along unnoticed. When they caught sight of the causeway, stretching away dimly in front of them, they again rowed out into the lake and, making a long circuit to avoid the canoes attacking Xoloc, the guns of which were firing hotly, came down on the causeway again in its rear.

They were hailed as they approached, for the Spaniards were all under arms. Roger shouted that he was a friend, who had escaped from the prison; and the Spaniards, in return, gave a shout of welcome. In another two minutes, the canoe lay alongside the causeway.

Bathalda sprang on sh.o.r.e, and held the canoe while Roger lifted Amenche up, and stepped out. A dozen hands were held out to a.s.sist him to climb the slippery bank.

His figure was known by them all. Many exclamations of welcome greeted him, and many were the inquiries as to the other captives.

"I will tell you all about it, directly. Bring the torch a little closer. I have a lady here who has fainted. We were attacked as we came out. The fight was a sharp one, and has scared her."

A soldier brought a torch and, as he did so, Roger uttered a loud cry. Amenche's face was bloodless, and her eyes were closed. But it was not this that had caused Roger's cry. There was a dark stain on her white dress, and in its center the feathered head of an arrow. While Bathalda and Roger had escaped the missiles, with which those in the boat heralded their attack; an arrow had struck Amenche, as she turned, when Roger sprang on board.

So great was Roger's horror that he reeled, and would have fallen, had not the soldiers standing round supported him.

"I think that she has but fainted from loss of blood," Bathalda said; and Roger, refusing all a.s.sistance, carried Amenche to the fort through the ranks of the Spaniards, who were engaged hotly with their a.s.sailants in the canoes.

He bore her, at once, to the chamber occupied by Marina. She was up and dressed, for the attack was a hot one, and there was no sleep in Xoloc. She uttered a cry of welcome, and gladness, as Roger entered.

"I have escaped, Malinche," he said; "but I fear that she has died in saving me. I have brought her to you, as you are the only woman here."

Marina took the girl tenderly, and laid her on a couch.

"I will see to her," she said, softly. "Leave her to me, Roger."

As Roger, blinded with tears, left the room, an officer met him at the door, and told him that Cortez had just heard of his arrival, and desired his presence. The general received him with great kindness.

"It is something to see one of my comrades back again, Sancho," he said. "I hear how sad a misfortune has befallen you; for I suppose the lady you brought ash.o.r.e was she of whom Marina spoke to me. She told me that she did not give up all hope that you might return; for that the princess whom you loved was in the city, and would, she was sure, do all that she could to save your life."

"She did so, General," Roger said; "and I fear at the cost of her own--she and a n.o.ble young cazique, who was a brother to me, when I was living at Tezcuco."

"I will not trouble you now with questions," Cortez said; "but tell me--do you know whether any of the other prisoners are alive? Every evening we have marked that terrible procession to the summit of the temple. Fifty-eight have been sacrificed, but we know not exactly how many more remain; being ignorant which of our comrades fell, and which were captured."

"I cannot tell," Roger replied. "I was the only one left, out of twenty who were in prison together. If they were taken in the same proportion from the other prisons, there can be but a few remaining now. I was set aside until the last, because the priest who had daily chosen out the victims had been bribed by my friend Cuitcatl."

Roger hastened away, as soon as Cortez dismissed him, and hurried back to Malinche's apartment. Her Mexican attendant, who was standing outside the door, opened it when she saw him approaching; and as she came up Malinche stole out, with her finger on her lips.

"We have taken out the arrow," she said. "She is still insensible; but the leech thinks that it is from loss of blood, and hopes that no vital point has been injured. More than that he cannot say, at present.

"You had best have your own wounds attended to, now. I will have a pile of rugs laid for you, in this little room to the left; and will let you know if any change takes place."

"Do you think that there is any hope, Malinche?"

Malinche shook her head.

"I know not, Roger. I have already sent off to the mainland, to fetch a leech famous for his skill in the use of herbs. Our people have many simples of which you know nothing in Europe, and they are very skillful in the treatment of wounds--much more so, I think, than the white men."

Chapter 22: Home.

After having had his wounds dressed, Roger threw himself down upon the bed that had been prepared for him, and lay tossing for hours. Hitherto he had believed, and had often reproached himself for it, that he had not loved Amenche as she had loved him. She had loved him with the pa.s.sion and devotion of the people of her race, and it was no figure of speech when she said that she was ready to give her life for him.

Roger knew that, until lately, his love had been poor by the side of hers. From the time he had sailed from England, to his first meeting with her, he had pictured to himself that some day, when he came to command a ship of his own, he would marry his cousin, if she had borne him in mind since he parted with her on Plymouth Hoe. This dream had faded away, from the time he had first met Amenche; and when Cacama had proposed the marriage to him, he had accepted the offer gladly. His chance of ever leaving the country, at that time, seemed slight; and he felt sure that he should be happy with Amenche. Since that time, the girl's frank expression of her love for him, her tender devotion, and her willingness to sacrifice country, and people, and all, to throw in her lot with him, had greatly heightened the feeling he had towards her; and he had come to love her truly; but still, perhaps, rather with the calm earnest affection of a brother, than the pa.s.sionate devotion of a lover.

But now he knew that she had his whole heart. If she died, it seemed of little consequence to him what became of his life. It was for his sake that she had risked everything, had left all--friends and home and country--and he felt that he would gladly die with her.

Morning was breaking before Malinche came into his room.

"She is sensible," she said, "and my countryman, who is with her, thinks that she will live."

The relief was so great that Roger burst into tears.

"Come with me," Malinche said, taking his hand. "We do not think she knows what has happened, but she looks anxiously about the room. She is very, very weak; but the leech thinks that if she sees you, and knows that you are safe and well, it will rouse her and put her in the way of recovery. You must not talk to her, or excite her in any way."

Roger followed Malinche into her room. Amenche was lying, without a vestige of color on her face, and with her eyes closed and her breathing so faint that Roger, as he looked at her, thought that she was dead.

"Take her hand and kneel down beside her," Malinche whispered.

Roger took the girl's hand. As he did so, a slight tremor ran through her, as if she recognized his touch. Then her eyes opened.

"Amenche, my darling, do you know me?" Roger said, as he stooped his face close to hers.

Her face brightened suddenly, and a look of intense happiness came into her eyes.

"O Roger!" she whispered; "I dreamed that they had killed you."

"I am safe and well, as you see," he said. "They have hurt you, darling; but you will get better, and we shall be happy together. You must not talk, but I may stay by you, if you will keep quiet.

"Drink this first," and he handed to her a cup that the Mexican doctor held out to him; and placing his arm under Amenche's head, raised it and poured the liquid between her lips.

Then he laid her head down again on the pillow and, kneeling beside her, held her hand in his.

She lay looking up into his face, with an expression of quiet happiness, occasionally murmuring, "Dear Roger."

Presently her eyelids drooped, and in a few minutes her regular breathing showed that she was asleep.

The Mexican doctor placed another cup of medicine within Roger's reach, and murmured in his ear, "I think that she will do now. Give her this when she awakes. I shall be within call, if I am wanted."

Amenche slept for some hours, and Roger, overcome by want of sleep, and from the anxiety through which he had pa.s.sed, dropped off many times into short dozes.

He woke from one of these at a slight movement of Amenche's hand, and opened his eyes at the moment that she was opening hers.

"What has happened, Roger? And where am I?" she asked, in wonder.

"First drink this medicine, and then I will tell you," he said. "You remember, dear, we were in the boat together, and we were attacked. An arrow struck you, but I knew nothing about it until I had reached the causeway, and found you senseless, and brought you here to Malinche's room; and she and one of the doctors of your country dressed your wound, and now you have been sleeping quietly for some hours."

"Oh yes," she said, "I remember now. I was struck with an arrow. It was a sharp pain, but I did not cry out; for you had need of all your strength and vigor. I lay there quietly, and heard the din of fighting; and at last, when I knew that you had conquered, I felt a faintness stealing over me, and thought that I was dying; and then I remember nothing more, only it seemed that, in my dreams, you came to me and knelt by the side of me and kissed me; and now I know that that part is true, and I have been having such happy dreams, ever since.