"I am unharmed," said the grateful old man, "and can sit a horse all
day long, if need be. Here, captain, take my seat in the volante,
and Isabella, whom you have served at such heavy cost to yourself,
shall act the nurse for you until we get to town again."

Perhaps nothing, save such a proposition as this, could possibly
have aroused and sustained the wounded officer; but after gently
refusing for a while to rob Don Gonzales of his seat in the volante,
he was forced to accept it even by the earnest request of Isabella
herself, who seemed to tremble lest he was mortally wounded in their
behalf.

Little did Don Gonzales know, at that time, what a flame he was
feeding in the young officer's breast. He was too intently engaged
in his own mind with the startling scenes through which he had just
passed, and was exercised with too much gratitude towards Captain
Bezan for his deliverance, to observe or realize any peculiarity of
appearance in any other respect, or to question the propriety of
placing him so intimately by the side of his lovely child. Isabella
had never told her father, or indeed any one, of the circumstance of
her having met Captain Bezan on the Plato. But the reader, who is
aware of the scene referred to, can easily imagine with what
feelings the soldier took his seat by her side, and secretly watched
the anxious and assiduous glances that she gave his wounded arm and
side, as well as the kind looks she bestowed upon his pallid face.

"I fear I annoy you," said the soldier, realizing his proximity to
her on the seat.