It was a moonless night, and a haze of cloud obscured the stars. We passed silently under the vine-covered arbour, across the garden, to the gateway. Into the heavy lock DoÑa Orosia slipped a great key; it turned easily, the door swung open, and we stepped out. Locking it once more, my companion took my arm and hurried me along the dark, deserted street. We turned a corner, came upon an open square, and paused beside a huge palmetto that grew near the centre. I heard the crisp rustle of its leaves in the night wind, and I shivered with a nameless dread.

Then, through the darkness, two dim forms approached us. My heart beat quickly, and I drew the mantle closer round my face; but one of them proved to be the friar, the other, my dear, dear Barbara. I sprang to meet her with a quick cry; but DoÑa Orosia laid a hand upon my lips and hurried me on. Padre Felipe now led the way, and we followed him for some moments more until he paused before a low doorway and motioned us to enter.

"SeÑora," I whispered, "why do you come? I have no fear of the disease, but why should you needlessly expose yourself?"

"Little fool," she answered, pushing me gently on, "there is no fever, no contagion here."

Wondering still, I entered the narrow passage, and beyond it a dimly lighted room.

On the floor lay a long wooden stretcher covered with hide; at its foot and head, fixed each in a rude socket, were two candles, still unlighted. A brass pot with long chains, and a heap of dark cloth, lay upon the floor; there was also a rough table on which stood a bottle of water and a loaf of bread; otherwise, except for a dim lamp upon the wall, the room was empty. DoÑa Orosia looked around, with quick eyes taking in every detail; then she turned to Padre Felipe.

"Can you trust the bearers?"

He bowed his head.

"Then the only difficulty is this old woman. Better to leave her behind."

But again I pleaded most earnestly; and presently the friar left the room and returned soon after with a dingy cloak, with which he enveloped the poor dame from head to foot.

"Let her follow behind," he said, "and if there is no trouble she may pass out with us." He charged her, then, to keep her face hidden and to stand well away from the light of the candles.

After that there was a pause, and the Spanish woman and the friar looked at each other.

"See you do not fail!" she said.

"And remember your word," he replied.

"A solid silver service for the new mission chapel at San Juan,—I swear it," was the quick response; "that is, if you succeed."

The friar folded his arms silently.

"Nay, then, in any case! only do your utmost," whispered DoÑa Orosia hurriedly.

"The result is as God wills it," said Padre Felipe calmly, and, pointing to the stretcher, he bade me lie down upon it. I did so, trembling in every limb, and he would have covered me over with the wrappings when the Governor's wife pushed him aside, knelt down herself, and slipped into my hand a little dagger, whispering:

"In case you are discovered."

I hid it in my bosom, thanking her. "Farewell, seÑora," I said, with tears, "you have been kind to me and I am very grateful. Whether or not I win freedom and friends, I believe you have done your utmost for me. I cannot think"—and I lifted my head close to hers and whispered—"I cannot think it is for revenge alone. There must be some pity prompting it."

"Thou little foolish one," she said, and laughed, pushing me back upon the bier. Then suddenly I felt a hot tear drop upon my forehead. She stooped lower and kissed me on the cheek.

I gave a little cry and would have risen again; but she drew the dark coverings over me and I could see no longer. As I felt her soft hands tucking me in, as a mother would her babe, I could only weep silently and pray God bless her.

A pungent smoke of something burning filled the room and reached me even through the coverings. I heard the padre lighting the tapers at my head and feet. After a time the stretcher on which I lay was lifted up and carried, foot foremost, from the room—out of the passage and into the street. I heard the feet of my bearers pattering on the ground as we moved onward at a swinging pace; I was conscious of the heavy smoke of burning incense that enveloped us; I heard the sound of a bell going before me, and a voice raised in a steady cry of warning; but I could see nothing save a faint radiance through the wrappings, where the candles burned.

After a time there was a halt and I heard voices in dispute. My fingers closed around the hilt of the seÑora's dagger. If death must come, so be it! I thought, and felt no fear, only regret that my dear love could never understand, unless the spirit that quivered so wildly within my still and shrouded form could speed to him in the first moment of its freedom and whisper the truth to his heart!

Another voice joined in. It was Melinza's own.

"Stand back!" he called loudly. "Out of the way, slaves! Who dares dispute the orders of his Excellency? If a man goes within twenty paces of that leprous crew he may follow them to perdition; but there'll be no longer any room for him within these walls!"

A murmur rose, and died away in the distance. We moved on once more. Then sounded the rattling clang of iron bars—but it came from behind us. The bell had ceased to ring; but as we moved slowly on I heard the voice of the padre chanting in a low and solemn key. Then utter silence fell, except the unshod footfall of my bearers and a murmur as of night-winds in the trees. Suddenly an owl hooted overhead, and then——I must have fainted.

I thought I was again in the Barbadian sloop, during the storm. Bound in my narrow berth I rocked and swayed, while overhead the boisterous wind howled in the rigging. The strained timbers creaked and groaned, and now and then sounded the sharp snapping of some frail spar. A woman's sobbing reached me through it all,—the low, gasping sobs of one whose breath is spent. I pushed back the covers and looked around me.

It was gray dawn in the forest. Through the tossing branches overhead I saw the pale clouds scudding beneath an angry heaven. I looked toward my feet and perceived the back of a strange man with dark head, bent shoulders, and bare brown arms grasping the sides of my litter. Some one was at my head also; turning quickly, I met his eyes looking into mine: it was Padre Felipe. I sat up, with a sudden gasp.

"Barbara!" I cried, "where are you, Barbara?"

When only the weak sobs answered me I threw myself from the litter to the ground, falling in an impotent heap with my feet entangled in the wrappings. But I caught sight of my good dame staggering on behind, half dragged, half carried by two Indian youths. Her clothing was torn and draggled, her face pitiably scratched, while great tears chased each other down her wrinkled cheeks.

The litter had stopped. Padre Felipe helped me to my feet; but I turned from him and threw my arms around Barbara's neck. She clung to me desperately, her breath catching and her voice broken as she tried to speak.

The friar took her by the shoulder roughly.

"She is worn out with tramping through the woods all night. It is no wonder! But 'twas her own doing, for she would come; now she must keep up or be left behind. We must reach shelter before the storm breaks in earnest, for it will be no light one."

A heavier gust passed while he was speaking; there was a louder moan in the tree-tops, and a broken branch crashed down at our very feet.

"Have we much farther to go?" I asked. He shook his head.

"About a league, perhaps?"

"Not more," was his reply.

"Then put the poor dame in the litter, and I will walk."

He looked intently at me. "Can you do it?"

"Better than she. I feel faint here," I added, laying my hand upon my bosom, "but my limbs are young and strong and unwearied."

"You want food," was his brief comment; and, turning to the litter, he drew out from a concealed pouch that was slung beneath it, a bottle of water, and a loaf of bread, and gave me to drink and to eat. I took it gladly, and Barbara did likewise. I thought, then, he would have taken some himself; but he put by the remainder, saying he had no need of it, and signed to the old woman to take her place in the litter, which was then raised by two of his followers. The third went in advance to clear away obstacles from the path, and we followed behind, I clinging to the padre's arm.

He said no more to me, but the touch of his hand was not ungentle. I marked how he led me over the smoothest ground, choosing the briars himself, though his feet were bare, and shielding me with his arm from the sharp blades of the dwarf palmettos that hedged the way.

As I walked beside him I could but marvel at the strange turns of Fate; for now it seemed that I would owe my deliverance, in part, to one of the very class I most hated as being the first cause of our captivity. From time to time I glanced up at his dark, stern face, and wondered whether, if I had not chanced to be his charge and under his sworn protection, he could have found it in his heart to burn me for a heretic!