"Bueño noche;" and she glided on. "I fear I have lost time;" and
hastily glancing toward the east, she saw a faint light stealing up
from the horizon. Redoubling her speed she pushed on, but, despite her
efforts, the moon rose with uncommon brilliance as she approached the
place of rendezvous, and soon every object was bathed in a flood of
light.

The Alameda, which she had just entered, was a long double row of
majestic cotton-woods, which, stretching out in the direction of the
Powder-House, was the favorite promenade with the inhabitants of the
town. Previous to the breaking out of the war numbers were to be seen
here every afternoon, some walking, others playing games, another
group dancing, and the graver portion of the company resting on the
rude seats supplied for the purpose. But their favorite resort was
blood-stained, for the Alameda was the battle-field in the late
desperate conflict, and the smooth surface was torn and trampled by
the stamp of prancing cavalry. Dark spots were still visible, that
were yet damp with gore. Just to the west rose the grim walls of the
fort, distinctly seen through the opening between the trees. Beyond
where the avenue ceased, stood a low, irregular building of stone,
thatched with tule.

Inez stood at the threshold and listened intently. The place bore a
desolate air, and neither sound nor light betokened the presence of
a human being. It had long been uninhabited, and some declared it was
haunted, so that the Padre had some time before sprinkled holy water
profusely about, in order to drive away the evil one.

Cautiously Inez tried the fastening; it swerved not beneath her firm,