It never has. So far as I have observed, the young fellow has behaved with a modesty that betokens the true gentleman. I have seen him in their presence more than once, and he has conducted himself towards them as if fully sensible of his position. For that matter, I don't think he cares a straw about one or other of them."

"Indeed! How fortunate for those, who might otherwise have been his rivals!"

"Perhaps it is," quietly remarked the captain of infantry.

"Who knows?" asked Hanc.o.c.k, intentionally giving a turn to the ticklish conversation. "Who knows but the cause of quarrel--if there's been one--might not be this splendid senorita so much talked about? I haven't seen her myself; but, by all accounts, she's just the sort to make two fellows as jealous as a pair of tiger-cats."

"It might be--who knows?" drawled Crossman, who found contentment in the thought that the handsome Irishman might have his amorous thoughts turned in any other direction than towards the commissary's quarters.

"They've got him in the guard-house," remarked Hanc.o.c.k, stating a fact that had just been made known to him: for the conversation above detailed occurred shortly after their return from the Comanche campaign.

"His droll devil of a serving man is along with him. What's more; the major has just issued an order to double the guard! What does it mean, Captain Sloman--you who know so much of this fellow and his affairs?

Surely there's no danger of his making an attempt to steal out of his prison?"

"Not likely," replied the infantry officer, "seeing that he hasn't the slightest idea that he's inside of one. I've just been to the guard-house to have a look at him. He's mad as a March hare; and wouldn't know his own face in a looking-gla.s.s."

"Mad! In what way?" asked Hanc.o.c.k and the others, who were yet but half enlightened about the circ.u.mstances of the mustanger's capture.

"A brain fever upon him--delirious?"

"Is that why the guards have been doubled? Devilish queer if it is.

The major himself must have gone mad!"

"Maybe it's the suggestion--command I should rather say--of the majoress. Ha! ha! ha!"

"But what _does_ it mean? Is the old maje really afraid of his getting out of the guard-house?"

"No--not that, I fancy. More likely an apprehension of somebody else getting into it."

"Ah! you mean, that--"

"I mean that for Maurice the Mustanger there's more safety inside than out. Some queer characters are about; and there's been talk of another Lynch trial. The Regulators either repent of having allowed him a respite; or there's somebody hard at work in bringing about this state of public opinion. It's lucky for him that the old hunter has stood his friend; and it's but a continuation of his good luck that we've returned so opportunely. Another day, and we might have found the guardhouse empty--so far as its present occupants are concerned. Now, thank G.o.d!

the poor fellow shall have a fair trial."

"When is it to take place?"

"Whenever he has recovered his senses, sufficiently to know that he's being tried!"

"It may be weeks before that."

"And it may be only days--hours. He don't appear to be very bad--that is, bodily. It's his mind that's out of order--more, perhaps, from some strange trouble that has come over him, than any serious hurt he has received. A day may make all the difference; and, from what I've just heard, the Regulators will insist on his being tried as soon as he shows a return to consciousness. They say, they won't wait for him to recover from his wounds!"

"Maybe he'll be able to tell a story that'll clear him. I hope so."

This was said by Hanc.o.c.k.

"I doubt it," rejoined Crossman, with an incredulous shake of the head.

"_Nous verrons_!"

"I'm sure of it," said Sloman. "_Nos veremos_!" he added, speaking in a tone that seemed founded less upon confidence than a wish that was father to the thought.

CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.

MYSTERY AND MOURNING.

There is mourning in the mansion of Casa del Corvo, and mystery among the members of Woodley Poindexter's family.

Though now only three in number, their intercourse is less frequent than before, and marked by a degree of reserve that must spring from some deep-seated cause.

They meet only at the hour of meals--then conversing only on such topics as cannot well be shunned.

There is ample explanation of the sorrow, and much of the solemnity.

The death--no longer doubted--of an only son--an only brother-- unexpected and still unexplained--should account for the melancholy mien both of father and daughter.

It might also explain the shadow seated constantly on the brow of the cousin.

But there is something beyond this. Each appears to act with an irksome restraint in the presence of the others--even during the rare occasions, on which it becomes necessary to converse on the family misfortune!

Beside the sorrow common to all three, they appear to have separate griefs that do not, and cannot, commingle.

The once proud planter stays within doors--pacing from room to room, or around, the enclosed corridor--bending beneath a weight of woe, that has broken down his pride, and threatens to break his heart. Even strong paternal affection, cruelly bereaved, can scarce account for the groans, oft accompanied by muttered curses, that are heard to issue from his lips!

Calhoun rides abroad as of yore; making his appearance only at the hours of eating and sleeping, and not regularly then.

For a whole day, and part of a night, he has been absent from the place.

No one knows where; no one has the right to inquire.

Louise confines herself to her own room, though not continuously. There are times when she may be seen ascending to the azotea--alone and in silent meditation.

There, nearer to Heaven, she seeks solace for the sorrows that have a.s.sailed her upon Earth--the loss of a beloved brother--the fear of losing one far more beloved, though in a different sense--perhaps, a little also, the thought of a scandal already attaching to her name.

Of these three sorrows the second is the strongest. The last but little troubles her; and the first, for a while keenly felt, is gradually growing calmer.

But the second--the supreme pain of all--is but strengthened and intensified by time!

She knows that Maurice Gerald is shut up within the walls of a prison-- the strong walls of a military guard-house.

It is not their strength that dismays her. On the contrary, she has fears for their weakness!

She has reasons for her apprehension. She has heard of the rumours that are abroad; rumours of sinister significance. She has heard talk of a second trial, under the presidency of Judge Lynch and his rude coadjutors--not the same Judge Lynch who officiated in the Alamo, nor all of the same jury; but a court still less scrupulous than that of the Regulators; composed of the ruffianism, that at any hour can be collected within the bounds of a border settlement--especially when proximate to a military post.

The reports that have thus gone abroad are to some a subject of surprise. Moderate people see no reason why the prisoner should be again brought to trial in that irregular way.

The facts, that have late come to light, do not alter the case--at least, in any way to strengthen the testimony against him.

If the four hors.e.m.e.n seen were not Indians--and this has been clearly shown by the discovery of the disguises--it is not the less likely that they have had to do with the death of young Poindexter. Besides, there is nothing to connect _them_ with the mustanger, any more than if they had been real Comanches.