ANOTHER two years passed over, bringing increased prosperity to the Hardys. No renewal of the Indian attacks had occurred, and in consequence an increased flow of emigration had taken place in their neighbourhood. Settlers were now established upon all the lots for many miles upon either side of Mount Pleasant; and even beyond the twelve miles which the estate stretched to the south, the lots had been sold. Mr. Hardy considered that all danger of the flocks and herds being driven off had now ceased, and had therefore added considerably to their numbers, and had determined to allow them to increase without further sales, until they had attained to the extent of the supporting power of the immense estate.  
Two hundred acres of irrigated land were under cultivation; the dairy contained the produce of a hundred cows; and, altogether, Mount Pleasant was considered- 265 - one of the finest and most profitable estancias in the province.
 
The house was now worthy of the estate; the inside fence had been removed fifty yards farther off, and the vegetable garden to a greater distance, the enclosed space being laid out entirely as a pleasure garden.
 
Beautiful tropical trees and shrubs, gorgeous patches of flowers, and green turf surrounded the front and sides; while behind was a luxuriant and most productive orchard.
 
The young Hardys had for some time given up doing any personal labour, and were incessantly occupied in the supervision of the estate and of the numerous hands employed: for them a long range of adobé huts had been built at some little distance in the rear of the enclosure.
 
Maud and Ethel had during this period devoted much more time to their studies, and the time was approaching when Mrs. Hardy was to return with them to England, in order that they might pass a year in London under the instruction of the best masters. Maud was now seventeen, and could fairly claim to be looked upon as a young woman. Ethel still looked very much younger than her real age: any one, indeed, would have guessed that there was at least three years’ difference between the sisters. In point of acquirements,- 266 - however, she was quite her equal, her much greater perseverance more than making up for her sister’s quickness.
 
A year previously Mr. Hardy had, at one of his visits to Buenos Ayres, purchased a piano, saying nothing of what he had done upon his return; and the delight of the girls and their mother, when the instrument arrived in a bullock-cart, was unbounded. From that time the girls practised almost incessantly; indeed, as Charley remarked, it was as bad as living in the house with a whole boarding-school of girls.
 
After this Mount Pleasant, which had always been considered as the most hospitable and pleasant estancia in the district, became more than ever popular, and many were the impromptu dances got up. Sometimes there were more formal affairs, and all the ladies within twenty miles would come in. These were more numerous than would have been expected. The Jamiesons were doing well, and in turn going for a visit to their native country, had brought out two bright young Scotchwomen as their wives.
 
Mrs. Mercer was sure to be there, and four or five other English ladies from nearer or more distant estancias. Some ten or twelve native ladies, wives or daughters of native proprietors, would also come in, and the dancing would be kept up until a very late hour. Then the ladies would lie down for a short time, all the beds being- 267 - given up to them, and a number of shake-downs improvised; while the gentlemen would sit and smoke for an hour or two, and then, as day broke, go down for a bathe in the river.
 
These parties were looked upon by all as most enjoyable affairs; and as eatables of all sorts were provided by the estate itself, they were a very slight expense, and were of frequent occurrence. Only one thing Mr. Hardy bargained for,—no wines or other expensive liquors were to be drunk. He was doing well,—far, indeed, beyond his utmost expectation,—but at the same time he did not consider himself justified in spending money upon luxuries.
 
Tea, therefore, and cooling drinks made from fruits, after the custom of the country, were provided in abundance for the dancers; but wine was not produced. With this proviso, Mr. Hardy had no objection to his young people having their dances frequently; and in a country where all were living in a rough way, and wine was an unknown luxury, no one missed it. In other respects the supper tables might have been admired at an English ball. Of substantials there was abundance,—turkeys and fowls, wild duck and other game. The sweets were represented by trifle, creams, and blancmanges; while there was a superb show of fruit,—apricots, peaches, nectarines, pine-apple, melons, and grapes. Among them were vases of gorgeous flowers, most of them tropical in- 268 - character, but with them were many old English friends, of which Mr. Hardy had procured seeds.
 
Their neighbours at Canterbury were still their most intimate friends: they were shortly, however, to lose one of them. Mr. Cooper had heard six months before of the death of his two elder brothers in rapid succession, and he was now heir to his father’s property, which was very extensive. It had been supposed that he would at once return to England, and he was continually talking of doing so; but he had, under one excuse or other, put off his departure from time to time. He was very frequently over at Mount Pleasant, and was generally a companion of the boys upon their excursions.
 
‘I think Cooper is almost as much here as he is at Canterbury,’ Charley said, laughing, one day.
 
Mrs. Hardy happened to glance at Maud, and noticed a bright flush of colour on her cheeks. She made no remark at the time, but spoke to Mr. Hardy about it at night.
 
‘You see, my dear,’ she concluded, ‘we are still considering Maud as a child, but other people may look upon her as a woman.’
 
‘I am sorry for this,’ Mr. Hardy said after a pause. ‘We ought to have foreseen the possibility of such a thing. Now that it is mentioned, I wonder we did not do so before. Mr. Cooper has been here so much, that- 269 - the thing would have certainly struck us, had we not, as you say, looked upon Maud as a child. Against Mr. Cooper I have nothing to say. We both like him extremely. His principles are good, and he would, in point of money, be of course an excellent match for our little girl. At the same time, I cannot permit anything like an engagement. Mr. Cooper has seen no other ladies for so long a time, that it is natural enough he should fall in love with Maud. Maud, on the other hand, has only seen the fifteen or twenty men who came here; she knows nothing of the world, and is altogether inexperienced. They are both going to England, and may not improbably meet people whom they may like very much better, and may look upon this love-making in the Pampas as a folly. At the end of another two years, when Maud is nineteen, if Mr. Cooper renew the acquaintance in England, and both parties agree, I shall of course offer no objection, and indeed should rejoice much at a match which would promise well for her happiness.’
 
Mrs. Hardy thoroughly agreed with her husband, and so the matter rested for a short time.
 
It was well that Mr. Hardy had been warned by his wife, for a week after this, Mr. Cooper met him alone when he was out riding, and, after some introduction, expressed to him that he had long felt that he had loved his daughter, but had waited until she was seventeen before- 270 - expressing his wishes. He said that he had delayed his departure for England on this account alone, and now asked permission to pay his addresses to her, adding that he hoped that he was not altogether indifferent to her.
 
Mr. Hardy heard him quietly to the end.
 
‘I can hardly say that I am unprepared for what you say, Mr. Cooper, although I had never thought of such a thing until two days since. Then your long delay here, and your frequent visits to our house, opened the eyes of Mrs. Hardy and myself. To yourself, personally, I can entertain no objection. Still, when I remember that you are only six-and-twenty, and that for the last four years you have seen no one with whom you could possibly fall in love, with the exception of my daughter, I can hardly think that you have had sufficient opportunity to know your own mind. When you return to England, you will meet young ladies very much prettier and very much more accomplished than my Maud, and you may regret the haste which led you to form an engagement out here. You shake your head, as is natural that you should do; but I repeat, you cannot at present know your own mind. If this is true of you, it is still more true of my daughter. She is very young, and knows nothing whatever of the world. Next month she proceeds to England with her mother, and for the next two- 271 - years she will be engaged upon finishing her education. At the end of that time I shall myself return to England, and we shall then enter into society. If at that time you are still of the same way of thinking, and choose to renew our acquaintance, I shall be very happy, in the event of Maud accepting you, to give my consent. But I must insist that there shall be no engagement, no love-making, no understanding of any sort or kind, before you start. I put it to your honour as a gentleman, that you will make no effort to meet her alone, and that you will say nothing whatever to her, to lead her to believe that you are in love with her. Only, when you say good-bye to her, you may say that I have told you that as the next two years are to be passed in study, to make up for past deficiencies, I do not wish her to enter at all into society, but that at the end of that time you hope to renew the acquaintance.’
 
Mr. Cooper endeavoured in vain to alter Mr. Hardy’s determination, and was at last obliged to give the required promise.
 
Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were not surprised when, two or three days after this, Mr. Cooper rode up and said that he had come to say good-bye, that he had received letters urging him to return at once, and had therefore made up his mind to start by the next mail from Buenos Ayres.
 
The young Hardys were all surprised at this sudden- 272 - determination, but there was little time to discuss it, as Mr. Cooper had to start the same night for Rosario.
 
Very warm and earnest were the adieus; and the colour, which had rather left Maud’s face, returned with redoubled force as he held her hand, and said very earnestly the words Mr. Hardy had permitted him to use.
 
Then he leapt into his saddle and galloped off, waving his hand, as he crossed the river, to the group which were still standing in the verandah watching him.
 
For a few days after this Maud was unusually quiet and subdued, but her natural spirits speedily recovered themselves, and she was soon as lively and gay as ever.
 
About a fortnight after the departure of Mr. Cooper, an event took place which for a while threatened to upset all the plans which they had formed for the future.
 
One or other of the girls were in the habit of frequently going over to stay for a day or two with Mrs. Mercer.
 
One evening Hubert rode over with Ethel, and Mrs. Mercer persuaded the latter to stay for the night; Hubert declining to do so, as he had arranged with Charley to go over early to Canterbury to assist at the branding of the cattle at that station.
 
In the morning they had taken their coffee, and were preparing for a start, when, just as they were mounting their horses, one of the men drew their attention to a- 273 - man running at full speed towards the house from the direction of Mr. Mercer’s.
 
‘What can be the matter?’ Charley said. ‘What a strange thing that a messenger should come over on foot instead of on horseback!’
 
‘Let’s ride and meet him, Charley,’ Hubert said; and putting spurs to their horses, they galloped towards the approaching figure.
 
As they came close to him he stumbled and fell, and lay upon the ground, exhausted and unable to rise.
 
The boys sprang from their horses with a feeling of vague uneasiness and alarm.
 
‘What is the matter?’ they asked.
 
The peon was too exhausted to reply for a moment or two; then he gasped out, ‘Los Indios! the Indians!’
 
The boys gave a simultaneous cry of dread.
 
‘What has happened? Tell us quick, man; are they attacking the estancia?’ The man shook his head.
 
‘Estancia burnt. All killed but me,’ he said.
 
The news was too sudden and terrible for the boys to speak. They stood white and motionless with horror.
 
‘All killed! Oh, Ethel, Ethel!’ Charley groaned.
 
Hubert burst into tears. ‘What will mamma do?’
 
‘Come, Hubert,’ Charley said, dashing away the tears from his eyes, ‘do not let us waste a moment. All hope may not be over. The Indians seldom kill women, but- 274 - carry them away, and she may be alive yet. If she is, we will rescue her, if we go right across America. Come, man, jump up behind me on my horse.’
 
The peon obeyed the order, and in five minutes they reached the gate. Here they dismounted.
 
‘Let us walk up to the house, Hubert, so as not to excite suspicion. We must call papa out and tell him first, so that he may break it to mamma. If she learn it suddenly, it may kill her.’
 
Mr. Hardy had just taken his coffee, and was standing at the door, looking with a pleased eye upon the signs of comfort and prosperity around him. There was no need, therefore, for them to approach nearer. As Mr. Hardy looked round upon hearing the gate shut, Charley beckoned to him to come down to them. For a moment he seemed puzzled, and looked round to see if the signal was directed to himself. Seeing that no one else was near him, he again looked at the boys, and Charley earnestly repeated the gesture.
 
Mr. Hardy, feeling that something strange was happening, ran down the steps and hurried towards them.
 
By the time he reached them, he had no need to ask questions. Hubert was leaning upon the gate, crying as if his heart would break; Charley stood with his hand on his lips, as if to check the sobs from breaking out, while the tears streamed down his cheeks.- 275 -
 
‘Ethel?’ Mr. Hardy asked.
 
Charley nodded, and then said, with a great effort, ‘The Indians have burnt the estancia; one of the men has escaped and brought the news. We know nothing more. Perhaps she is carried off, not killed.’
 
Mr. Hardy staggered under the sudden blow. ‘Carried off!’ he murmured to himself. ‘It is worse than death.’
 
‘Yes, papa,’ Charley said, anxious to give his father’s thoughts a new turn. ‘But we will rescue her, if she is alive, wherever they may take her.’
 
‘We will, Charley; we will, my boys,’ Mr. Hardy said earnestly, and rousing himself at the thought ‘I must go up and break it to your mother; though how I shall do so, I know not. Do you give what orders you like for collecting our friends. First, though, let us question this man. When was it?’
 
‘Last night, Signor, at eleven o’clock. I had just laid down in my hut, and I noticed that there were still lights down-stairs at the house, when, all of a sudden, I heard a yell as of a thousand fiends, and I knew the Indians were upon us. I knew that it was too late to fly, but I threw myself out of the window, and laid flat by the wall, as the Indians burst in. There were eight of us, and I closed my ears to shut out the sound of the other’s cries. Up at the house, too, I could hear screams and some pistol-shots, and then more screams and cries. The Indians- 276 - were all round, everywhere, and I dreaded lest one of them should stumble up against me. Then a sudden glare shot up, and I knew they were firing the house. The light would have shown me clearly enough, had I remained where I was; so I crawled on my stomach till I came to some potato ground a few yards off. As I lay between the rows, the plants covered me completely. In another minute or two the men’s huts were set fire to, and then I could hear a great tramping, as of horses and cattle going away in the distance. They had not all gone, for I could hear voices all night, and Indians were moving about everywhere, in search of any one who might have escaped. They came close to me several times, and I feared that they would tread on me. After a time all became quiet; but I dared not move till daylight. Then, looking about carefully, I could see no one, and I jumped up, and never stopped running until you met me.’
 
Mr. Hardy now went up to the house, to break the sad tidings to his wife. Charley ordered eight peons to saddle horses instantly, and, while they were doing so, he wrote on eight leaves of his pocket-book: ‘The Mercers’ house destroyed last night by Indians; the Mercers killed or carried off. My sister Ethel with them. For God’s sake, join us to recover them. Meet at Mercer’s as soon as possible. Send this note round to all neighbours.’- 277 -
 
One of these slips of paper was given to each peon, and they were told to ride for their lives in different directions, for that Miss Ethel was carried off by the Indians.
 
This was the first intimation of the tidings that had arrived, and a perfect chorus of lamentation arose from the women, and of execrations of rage from the men. Just at this moment Terence came running down from the house. ‘Is it true, Mister Charles? Sarah says that the mistress and Miss Maud are gone quite out of their minds, and that Miss Ethel has been killed by the Indians!’
 
‘Killed or carried away, Terence; we do not know which yet.’
 
Terence was a warm-hearted fellow, and he set up a yell of lamentation which drowned the sobs and curses of the natives.
 
‘Hush, Terence,’ Charley said. ‘We shall have time to cry for her afterwards: we must be doing now.’
 
‘I will, Mister Charles; but you will let me go with you to search for her. Won’t you, now, Mister Charles?’
 
‘Yes, Terence; I will take you with us, and leave Lopez in charge. Send him here.’
 
Lopez was close. He, too, was really affected at the loss of his young mistress; for Ethel, by her unvarying sweetness of temper, was a favourite with every one.- 278 -
 
‘Lopez, you will remain here in charge. We may be away two days—we may be away twenty. I know I can trust you to look after the place just as if we were here.’
 
The capitaz bowed with his hand on his heart. Even the peasants of South America preserve the grand manner and graceful carriage of their Spanish ancestors. ‘And now, Lopez, do you know of any of the Guachos in this part of the country who have ever lived with the Indians, and know their country at all?’
 
‘Martinez, one of the shepherds at Canterbury, Signor Charles, was with them fo............