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- Стр. 178/662
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Whither
?
The
self-asked
interrogatory
was
but
the
same
as
of
yesterday
.
It
met
with
a
similar
response
.
Whither
,
if
not
to
meet
Doña
Isidora
Covarubio
de
los
Llanos
?
Could
there
be
a
doubt
of
it
?
If
so
,
it
was
soon
to
be
determined
.
In
less
than
twenty
minutes
after
,
a
parded
steed
was
seen
upon
the
same
road
--
and
in
the
same
direction
--
with
a
lady
upon
its
back
.
The
jealous
heart
of
the
Creole
could
hold
out
no
longer
.
No
truth
could
cause
greater
torture
than
she
was
already
suffering
through
suspicion
.
She
had
resolved
on
assuring
herself
,
though
the
knowledge
should
prove
fatal
to
the
last
faint
remnant
of
her
hopes
.
She
entered
the
chapparal
where
the
mustanger
had
ridden
in
scarce
twenty
minutes
before
.
She
rode
on
beneath
the
flitting
shadows
of
the
acacias
.
She
rode
in
silence
upon
the
soft
turf
--
keeping
close
to
the
side
of
the
path
,
so
that
the
hoof
might
not
strike
against
stones
.
The
long
pinnate
fronds
,
drooping
down
to
the
level
of
her
eyes
,
mingled
with
the
plumes
in
her
hat
.
She
sate
her
saddle
crouchingly
,
as
if
to
avoid
being
observed
--
all
the
while
with
earnest
glance
scanning
the
open
space
before
her
.
She
reached
the
crest
of
a
hill
which
commanded
a
view
beyond
.
There
was
a
house
in
sight
surrounded
by
tall
trees
.
It
might
have
been
termed
a
mansion
.
It
was
the
residence
of
Don
Silvio
Martinez
,
the
uncle
of
Doña
Isidora
.
So
much
had
she
learnt
already
.
There
were
other
houses
to
be
seen
upon
the
plain
below
;
but
on
this
one
,
and
the
road
leading
to
it
,
the
eyes
of
the
Creole
became
fixed
in
a
glance
of
uneasy
interrogation
.
