Captain Forest's feelings are better imagined than described. His brain was in a whirl, on fire. For the second time a woman had treated his confidence lightly. The whole world seemed to spin round him in chaotic confusion as he sought to lay hold of a single, tangible thought that might temper his judgment, steady his nerves and check the fierce outbursts of passion which were fast sweeping him beyond self-control. He had reached a state of recklessness that renders a man of his temperament most dangerous, and unless his judgment soon got the better of his passions, he would, as likely as not, either kill Chiquita or Don Felipe, or both of them.

The company had broken up shortly after the departure of Chiquita and Padre Antonio, leaving the patio silent and deserted, save for the presence of the Captain, who paced silently back and forth; the moon flooding the patio with broad sheets of white light, causing objects to appear almost as sharp and distinct as before the lights of the lanterns were extinguished.

Blanch, who was the last to leave, would have offered him her sympathy, but on approaching him, he gave her a look so terrifying that even she dared not speak to him. She accordingly retired to her room and seated herself before the open window from which she commanded a view of the court and could observe him at her leisure. Perhaps he will come to his senses now, she thought. At any rate, he now knew what she suffered. She experienced a feeling of cruel satisfaction and exultation while calmly watching the struggle going on within him as he paced slowly back and forth.

How strange that they should be there in that out-of-the-way place! In spite of the terrible ordeal through which she had passed and the dramatic climax in which the struggle had just culminated, it still appeared so unreal, so unnatural to her, that she wondered whether she was not still dreaming and must soon awaken to find herself back in the old life again and Jack near her, as in the old days. Who could have foreseen this tragedy, this end to their lives? But a few months previous all things appeared so clear and defined, so definitely ordained for them.

Truly the future was veiled—a sealed book for man! Had she been permitted to dip for but an instant beneath the cover of that book, or lift the veil ever so little, the catastrophe that had overtaken them and the suffering it entailed might have been averted.

But no. The strange nemesis that had pursued them step by step had been permitted to wreck their lives completely. And for what end—what purpose? Was there no justice, no recompense for them? The answer, she somehow felt, lay not here, but with the stars—in the great universal scheme of things, and was quite beyond her reasoning powers.

She felt the utter hopelessness of longer struggling against the unseen, and in that hour she became a fatalist. Better drift from day to day without purpose, than living, behold one's dreams and ambitions come to naught. She was like a strong, self-confident swimmer who had been caught by the tide and was being swept irresistibly out to sea. Blurred though her vision was, she seemed to see things clearer than she had ever seen them before, and she somehow felt that the fate which had overtaken her was the result of self-aggrandizement—that she in a measure typified the passing or end of a condition out of whose decay the new life must spring.

Submit she must, and yet a fierce resentment against all things filled her soul. She rebelled at the apparent injustice which she felt had been done her. Why had she, the most fit, been chosen? What had she really done to merit such an end? She realized that her trouble was unalterable; that it had its root in the social scheme of things and nothing she could do could alter it. That in reality it was no fault of hers, but the fault of her bringing up; that the world which she had been taught to respect as a thing representing truth and beauty, all that is best in man, was only a mocking illusion.

The injustice of it amazed, appalled, stunned her. She seemed to think and move like one in a dream, struggling with shadowy, intangible forces with which she was incapable to cope. The thought that it was not her fault only added to her bitterness and agony, and she longed for death—the death that knows no awakening—to be blotted out utterly, and forever. Her life was devoid of hope, there was nothing to look forward to, the future had become a blank.

A low moan, in which was expressed the despair and agony of men since the beginning of time, escaped her. She pressed her cold hands to her burning, throbbing temples and prayed that, whatever her end might be, it would come swiftly.

Again she raised her head and glanced through the open window. To her surprise she saw the tall form of Dick Yankton leaning against one of the pillars of the arcade that ran round the patio. He was smoking quietly and observing the Captain, who still strode back and forth apparently unaware of his presence. Suddenly the Captain stopped short as if he had come to a decision. As he did so, he turned half round and saw Dick, whom he regarded for some moments in silence. Then, going over to where he stood, she heard him exclaim: "It's not true, Dick, I don't believe it. I'm going to her now and tell her so!" At the same instant she also saw Don Felipe glide noiselessly and stealthily from one of the doors opening on to the patio and pause in the deep shadow of the arcade next to the wall, close to where they stood. Instantly she was on her feet and leaning forward, breathless and eager to catch all that was said.

"Neither do I believe it," answered Dick. "But I wouldn't have told you so. I wanted you to make up your mind first, and if you hadn't said so just now, I wouldn't show you this, either," he continued, drawing from his inner coat pocket a large envelope from which he took a letter and handed it to the Captain.

She saw the sheet of paper tremble in the Captain's hands as he read its contents. Again Dick handed him another sheet somewhat larger and darker than the first. He seized it eagerly, glancing hurriedly over its contents, his hands trembling more violently than before.

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed excitedly, looking at Dick. "And yet," he added, "it's not so strange after all; it's so natural!"

Blanch uttered a suppressed cry. She felt that her last chance of winning back the Captain was gone forever. It was a last stab at her heart. At this juncture JosÉ appeared from out the shadows of the garden beyond the patio and hurriedly approached them. She heard him say something in Spanish which she did not understand. Then, all became blurred before her eyes. She felt herself begin to sway and totter—she fainted.

Following JosÉ, the Captain and Dick came upon Starlight, quietly cropping the grass in the garden, just outside the corral. On hearing their approach, the Chestnut raised his head, and, seeing his master, gave a low whinny of recognition. Close beside him on the grass lay a dark, shapeless object which, on closer inspection, proved to be the remains of Juan Ramon, trampled almost beyond recognition by the stallion's terrible hoofs.

While Chiquita was being confronted by Don Felipe and the attention of every one was occupied by the scene that followed, Juan seized the opportunity for which he had been waiting. Stealing quietly away to the corrals, he deftly flung a riata over the stallion's head, and, looping it about the animal's nose, was on his back with a bound.

There was no question of Juan's ability to ride him. Once on a horse's back, he had never yet been unseated. He had expected the Chestnut to rear and plunge, to fight desperately on finding a stranger on his back and he was prepared for it, but greatly to his surprise, the horse showed no signs of fight and went meekly out of the corral at his bidding. All went well until they reached the garden, and Juan was beginning to congratulate himself on making his escape so easily, when suddenly and without warning, the Chestnut stopped short, reached round with his head, and seizing Juan by the leg with his teeth, jerked him to the ground. Juan heard the stallion's fierce cry of rage, and—that was the end.

The luck had changed again for Juan, and with it vanished his fair dream of life on the little hacienda with the pretty Rosita.

JosÉ had long been aware of Juan's intentions regarding the horse, and laughed quietly to himself as he thought of the trap Juan was laying for himself. That afternoon he appeared to be drinking heavily, and early in the evening feigned intoxication in order that Juan might go to his death which he knew awaited him should he so much as lay his hand on the horse.

When Blanch regained consciousness once more, she found herself in a half sitting and kneeling posture before the window with one arm resting on the sill. She must have been unconscious for some time, for when she came to herself, she again saw Captain Forest and Dick standing in the patio conversing in low tones. They soon separated, Dick going into the house, and the Captain making his way through the garden. She knew he was on his way to Chiquita. She also saw Don Felipe steal from the shadow of his concealment and follow him.

A great fear seized her. She felt the imminence of a disaster greater than that which had already occurred. Something terrible was about to happen. The thought aroused her to action and she hurriedly rose to her feet. If possible, she would prevent that final catastrophe which her intuition told her was imminent—which she knew must overtake either one or all three of them should Don Felipe and the Captain meet again that night in Chiquita's presence.

There was not a moment to lose, and seizing a light wrap which lay on a chair beside her, she flung it about her shoulders and hurriedly left the room.