When Felisa had seen Agueda disappear below the hillside she turned to Beltran.

"What is it, cousin?" asked Felisa, leaning heavily upon his shoulder.

He put his arm round her.

"You must get down, little lady. I have a summons from a friend; I must go home at once."

"But if I choose not to go home?" said Felisa, pouting.

"All the same, we must go," said Beltran.

"But if I will not go?"

"Then I shall have to carry you. You must go, Felisa, and I must, at once."

For answer Felisa leant over and looked into the eyes that were so near her own. She laid her arm round Beltran's shoulders, the faint fragrance that had no name, but was rather a memory of carefully cared for lingerie, was wafted across his nostrils for the hundredth time. One could not imagine Felisa without that evanescent thing that was part of her and yet had no place in her contrivance, hardly any place in her consciousness.

Beltran took her in his arms and lifted her to the ground. The tree, released, sprang in air.

"Ah! there goes my stirrup. You must get it for me, Beltran."

The gay scarf, having been utilized as a stirrup, had been left to shake and shiver high above them, with the tremors of the tree, which was endeavouring to straighten its bent bark and wood to their normal upright position.

"I can send for that; we must not wait," said Beltran.

"Send for it, indeed! Do you know that I got the scarf in Naples, cousin?—that a Princess Pallavicini gave it to me? Send for it, indeed! Do you think that I would have one of your grimy peons lay his black finger upon that scarf? You pulled the tree down before, bend it down again."

For answer, Beltran leaped in air, trying to seize the scarf. He failed to reach it. Then he climbed the tree, and soon his weight had bent the slight young sapling to earth again. Felisa sat underneath a ceiba, watching Beltran's efforts. At each failure she laughed aloud. She was obviously regretful when finally he released the scarf and handed it to her.

Beltran urged haste with Felisa, but by one pretext or another she delayed him.

"Sit down under this tree, and tell me what is in that letter, cousin."

Beltran stood before her.

"It is from my old friend, Silencio; he needs me—"

"I cannot hear, cousin; that mocking-bird sings so loud. Sit down here and tell me—"

"It is from my friend, Silen—"

"I cannot hear, cousin. You must sit here by me, and tell me all about it."

Beltran threw himself upon the ground with a sigh. She forced his head to her knee, and played with the rings of his hair.

"Now tell me, cousin, and then I shall decide the question for you."

Beltran lay in bliss. Delilah had him within her grasp; still there was firmness in the tone which said:

"I have already decided the question, Sweet. I promised him that I would go to him when he should need me. The time has come, and I must go to-night."

"And leave me?" said Felisa, her delicate face clouding under this news. "And what shall I do if we are attacked while you are away?"

"There is no question of your being attacked, little cousin. Silencio has an enemy, Escobeda, who, he thinks, will attack him to-morrow at daylight. In fact, Felisa, you may as well hear the entire story. Then you will understand why I must go. Silencio is a sort of cousin of mine. He has married the niece of as great a villain as ever went unhung, and he, the uncle, Escobeda, will attack Silencio to recover his niece. He is clearly without the law, for Silencio is married as fast as the padre can make him. But there may be sharp work; there is no time to get government aid, and I doubt if under the circumstances it would be forthcoming. So I must go to Silencio's help." Beltran made a motion as if to rise.

Felisa now clasped her fingers round his throat. It was the first time that she had voluntarily made such a demonstration, and Beltran's pulses quickened under her touch. He relaxed his efforts, turned his face over in her lap, and kissed the folds of her dress.

"Vida mia, vida mia! you will not keep me," he murmured through a mass of lace and muslin.

"Indeed, that will I! Do you suppose that I am going to remain at that lonely casa of yours, quaking in every limb, dreading the sound of each footstep, while you are away protecting some one else? No, indeed! You had no right to ask us here, if you meant to go away and leave us to your cut-throat peons. I will not stay without you."

"But my peons are not cut-throats, Felisa. They will guard you as their own lives, if I tell them that I must be gone."

"Do you mean to go alone?"

"No, I mean to take half a dozen good men with me, and leave the rest at San Isidro. There is no cause to protect you, Felisa, little cousin; but should you need protection, you shall have it."

"I shall not need it, for I will not let you leave me, Beltran. Suppose that dreadful man, Escobeda, as you call him, becomes angry at seeing you on the side of your friend, and starts without your knowledge, and comes to San Isidro. He might take me away in the place of that niece of his, to force you to get the SeÑor Silencio to give his niece back to him."

"What nonsense are you conjuring up, Felisa, child! That is too absurd! Escobeda's quarrel is with Silencio, not with me. Do not fear, little one."

"And did I not hear you say that this SeÑor Escobeda hated your father, and also hated you?"

"Yes, I did say that," admitted Beltran, reluctantly, as he struggled to rise without hurting her; "but he will be very careful how he quarrels openly with me. My friends in the government are as powerful as his own."

"Well, you cannot go," said Felisa, decisively, "and let that end the matter."

They went homeward slowly, much as they had come, Felisa delaying Beltran by some new pretext at every step. She kept a watchful eye upon him, to see that he did not drop her bridle rein and canter away at the cross roads.

When they reached the picnic ground they found that Uncle NoÉ had departed, and Beltran must, perforce, see his cousin safely within the precincts of San Isidro. She did not leave the veranda after dismounting, but seated herself upon the top step, which was now shaded from the sun, and watched every movement of master and servants. Beltran had disappeared within doors, but he could not leave the place on foot. After a while he emerged from his room; behind him hobbled old Juana, carrying a small portmanteau. As he came toward the steps, Felisa arose and stood in his way.

"Why do you go to-night?" she said.

"Because he needs me at daybreak."

"I need you more." Felisa looked out from under the fringe of pale sunshine. "You will not leave me, Beltran—cousin?"

"It is only for a few hours, dear child."

"Is this Silencio more to you than I am, then, Beltran?"

"Good God! No, child, but I shall return before you have had your dip in the river."

"I do not like to be left here alone, cousin. I want you—"

"I must go, and at once, Felisa. Silencio depends upon me. Good by, good by! You will see me at breakfast."

Felisa arose. The time for pleading was past.

"You shall not go," said she, holding his sleeve with her small fingers.

"I must!" He pulled the sleeve gently away. She clasped it again persistently. Then she said, resolutely and with emphasis, "So sure as you do, I take the first steamer for home."

"You would not do that?"

"That is my firm intention."

"But Silencio needs me."

"I need you more."

Felisa withdrew her small hands from his sleeve and started down the veranda, toward her room. Her little shoes tick-tacked as she walked.

He called after her, "Where are you going?"

"To pack my trunks," said Felisa, "if you can spare that girl of yours—that Agueda—to help me."

A throb of joy flew upward in the heart of Agueda, whose nervous ear was awake now to all sounds.

"Do you really mean it, Felisa?"

"I certainly do mean it," answered Felisa. "If you go away from me now, I will take the first steamer home. To-morrow, if one sails."

"And suppose that I refuse you the horses, the conveyance, the servants—"

Felisa turned and looked scornfully at Beltran.

"I suppose that you are a gentleman first of all," she said. "You could not refuse."

"No, I could not."

"And you will remain?"

Beltran dropped his head on his breast.

"I will remain," he said.

Beltran drew his breath sharply inward.

"It is the first time," he added.

"The first time?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Did I speak aloud? Yes, the first time, Felisa, that I was ever false to a friend. He counts on me; I promised—"

"Men friends, I suppose. What about women? I count on you, you have promised me—"

Agueda threw herself face downward on her bed and stopped her ears with deep buried fingers.