Hughes and Miller laughed with him, but no one else. All were deeply impressed with Mrs. Darrell's words.

"I wish she had told me this before," Darrell said, and resumed his recumbent position.

"Yes, why didn't she?" Gasbang asked.

"Because women are bound to do mischief," Mathews replied.

"She stated her reasons very clearly," Romeo said.

"What were they?" Mathews asked.

"Can your memory be failing you already, Mr. Mathews, that you forget what you just heard, or are you getting hard of hearing?" Romeo answered.

Mathews snorted and turned his back on Romeo. Everett answered him, saying:

"My mother said that she wished the purchase to be kept quiet until the Don should have his title. Then the fact of the land being his, would prove the correctness of having paid for what we took, and thus all discussions would have been avoided. Unfortunately some busybody went to see the entry, and came to herald his glorious discovery."

"How did she know that the Don's title would not be rejected?" Mathews inquired.

"Her good sense told her," Romeo answered.

"I wasn't talking to you," Mathews retorted, making all laugh-and even Darrell smiled-but he looked very pale, and Everett began to feel anxious, to see his pallor.

The conversation had now drifted to the subject of the coming survey of the rancho.

"I heard that the surveyor will be on the ground by the first of October," Miller said.

"All right; that will give us plenty of time," Gasbang observed.

Everett said something to Romeo, who then went and whispered to his father, whereupon Old Hancock nodded an assent and in a few moments said:

"Well, my friends, let us go home. For the present I don't see that anything can be done. Mr. Darrell looks fatigued, and I don't wonder at it, for we have bored him nearly to death. Let him go to bed and rest."

Evidently Mathews, Gasbang and others had no idea of going home so early, but as Darrell said nothing, they reluctantly arose and took their departure.

If Darrell had obeyed the impulse of his heart when he went up-stairs to his bed-chamber, he would have taken his wife in his arms and, with a kiss, made his peace with her; for he knew her to be true, and always acting from the best motives. But there was that streak of perversity within, which impelled him to do or say the wrong thing, when at the same time an inner voice was admonishing him to do the opposite.

"I am sorry, William, that I kept that matter of the land purchase from you. Believe me, my husband, I did so out of a desire to avoid discussions always painful to me. You seemed so happy here, that I hated to bring up for argument any disagreeable subject. It was a mistake; I regret it."

"Yes, wise women generally put their foot in it," said he, turning his back on her.

"Can you forgive me? I am very sorry. And now I want you to take a nice warm bath; after so much excitement it will soothe you, and you will sleep sweetly. After all, it is better that you know the whole thing now."

"No thanks to you, though."

"That is true, but you know my maxim."

"Which one? Wise women have so many."

"To accept blessings thankfully, even when they come in disguise," she replied, taking no notice of his sarcasm.

"I have yet to see the blessing in this."

"You will to-morrow if you will only take care now of your physical comfort-your health. Come, take a bath; it will prevent your having a fever."

"I don't want a bath; I feel badly."

"That is why you should have it. I know your constitution well-nothing would be better for you than warm bathing. Be reasonable, please. I feel tired, too; I would like to go to bed."

"Why don't you, then?"

"Because I wanted first to see you resting for the night."

"I don't know that I'll go to bed. I think I'll sleep in this chair."

"Very well, then, I shall go into Clarence's room and sleep there! It would keep me awake to know that you were sitting up."

"Do as you please."

"Can it be possible, William, that you refuse to go to bed because you are too angry with me to have me lie by your side?"

He said nothing, but looked very pale. She waited; he never said a word.

"Very well, William, I am dismissed I suppose. If you are sick or require anything, knock at Clarence's door. I shall be there. Good night."

"Good night."

She went quietly into Clarence's room and lit a lamp. She went to a hall closet and took a soft merino wrapper, came back, locked her door, undressed herself, put the wrapper on, and sat by the window to think.

"What fools men are? Such small vanity guides them. To think that William should fling away happiness at the instigation of a reptile like Gasbang! And you, my sweet boy, my darling Clarence, how will this affect your happiness?" This thought gave her the keenest pain.

While Mrs. Darrell was thus sadly meditating, her angry lord was nearly choking with smothered rage-intensified a hundred fold by his disappointment at being left alone without his adored, worshipped Mary.

Mrs. Darrell knew that her husband loved her, but she had never guessed that torrent of passion and devotion which rushed through that rugged nature like a river plunging from Yosemite hights into unknown abysmal depths.

Why would he not yield to her sweet entreaties to bathe and take his comfort? Was it all perverse obstinacy? Partly, yes. He had refused a warm bath and her sweet society, for the very reason that those two were the things he most desired on earth-he felt as if even his bones clamored for them. But there was yet another equally strong motive in that very complex nature-a motive stronger than obstinacy-compelling him in spite of himself, and this was _his bashfulness_. He feared that his wife might see the bruises on his arms and the heavy welt that he knew there must be around his body, made by the coil of the _reata_. He felt very sore, and his bruises became more painful, but he would rather die than let any one see his pitiful plight. And thus he sat up all night and would not undress, or go to bed, or be comforted.

Towards morning he walked to the window and looked into the valley, then his gaze wandered towards the Alamar house. All the windows had the shutters closed and no light was seen from them excepting one. He did not know what room that was or who occupied it, but unconsciously he watched it-watched the light he could see through the lace curtains. The light became intercepted at regular intervals; so he concluded that some one must be going and coming before that light. He smiled, hoping that the Don might be as miserable as he was-unable to sleep.

But the Don was sleeping. She who was awake, walking in her solitary vigil, was Mercedes. Those beautiful blue eyes had never closed in sleep all night.

She had been embroidering a _mouchoir_ case for Clarence that unfortunate afternoon of Darrell's performance, when she heard loud talking in the piazza. At first she paid no attention to it and went on with her work, hoping that Clarence would return early, because her dream troubled her. The talking becoming louder, and more voices being heard, she felt alarmed, imagining that Clarence's horses had run away and he had been hurt. She went out to inquire.

The entire Alamar family, as well as Mrs. Mechlin, George and Lizzie, were in the veranda. All had seen Darrell's attempt and subsequent steeple-chase. Now Gabriel and Victoriano had returned and related what had passed in the hollow. Victoriano was again overcome with laughter, which, being so hearty and uncontrollable, became contagious. Even Gabriel and Mr. Mechlin, who were less disposed to indulge in hilarity, laughed a little. Mercedes was the only one who not even smiled. She did not understand a word of what was said. Gradually she began to comprehend, and she stood motionless, listening, her pale lips firmly compressed, her eyes only showing her agitation and how grieved she was; their dark-blue was almost black, and they glowed like stars.

"Cheer up, little pussy. When Clarence comes he will undeceive the old man, and all will be right," said Don Mariano, putting his arms around her yielding form and drawing her to his heart.

"_Palabra suelta, no tiene vuelta_," Dona Josefa said. "Darrell can never recall his insulting words."