Ruth descended the hill with firm, sure steps for she was strong in body as well as in spirit; she had reached the gate of the little cemetery before the impulse that had prompted her action had had time to lose any of its power, but, as she opened the gate and realized the lateness of the hour, her natural caution led her to pause for a second and take in her surroundings; she at once became conscious of the sound of a low, sobbing voice saying:

"Dear God, I came here all alone hoping that You would forgive him for the crime that he committed if I came to you in secret beside the grave of him whose life he took ... the sin is lying heavily upon his soul and I wish to lift it from him by sacrificing my own peace of mind so that it may be bestowed upon him, for he suffers grievously from his wound, dear God, he suffers very grievously.... I pray that You will put the sorrow for his crime upon me instead of him so that I may help him, for he is greatly in need of more help than I can give him, being but a simple-minded, feeble, little peasant and unfit to carry this heavy load."

The supplication ended in a rush of sobs that shook the inner consciousness of her who listened to them, for Ruth was tender-hearted above all her other instincts; she advanced into the little cemetery, then, with far different feelings than the ones that brought her there.

The sounds that she had heard came from the same direction she had meant to take to reach the grave of Victorio Colenzo, so she proceeded along the little path that she had followed, in secret, more than once before, for, with Estrella in her home, she could not visit the last resting-place of the body of the man whom she had loved as very young and innocent women will, often, love a creature all unworthy of such affection, except surreptitiously; so that it was easy for her to wind among the simple little head-stones until she came to the grave she sought.

The form her eyes could just discern beside the tomb was small and slight and cowering down as if, indeed, in earnest supplication; Ruth advanced until she was standing very near the silent woman and, not wishing to startle and confuse her by a sudden word, she very gently touched her bowed head; instantly, the girl sprang up in wild alarm, for it had taken all her courage to come there at all; Ruth reassured her as quickly as she could by saying, softly:

"Do not fear, whoever you may be; I am but another woman like yourself and I wish to help you no matter what it is that is so troubling you; we women should assist each other in this world, for women, as it seems to me, were put into the world to suffer, mainly, so we ought to try to help each other. Tell me what there is that I can do to help you, now."

Tessa, for the reader has, no doubt, guessed that it was she, began to sob wildly and clung to the other woman who had come to her so strangely; she could not speak, at first, for crying, and, then, she could not speak for fear of injuring the man she loved, and, so, she did not speak at all, but ran away without one word of explanation, thinking in that way she might avoid discovery.

But the incident had shaken Ruth so that the memory of the man whose body lay within that narrow grave grew dim and far away; she knew that he had been unworthy of her love and must have scouted it in secret many times, for, if he had not done so, how could he have made such love to poor Estrella as he had while she, his lawful wife, yet lived upon the earth? Ruth Wakefield had often said that truth was truth no matter where it fell ... she'd even said that she would blame herself when blame was hers to bear, and, so, she could not shield the memory of the newly dead too far, and, so, she turned away from that low grave and never went there again, and, as she slowly climbed the hill that led her to her own loved home, Estrella overtook her in the path and, hand in hand with her who had been wronged as she, herself, had been, she left the memory of the handsome, gay deceiver lying there within the narrow grave that hid his fast decaying body from the world of living men and women; from that time, she did not suffer, in thinking of him, as she had before; there are turning points in every road no matter where it leads to, and this was a turn for Ruth in that sad road where she had strayed, but only for a short and most unhappy, if, at moments, wildly joyous, time.

When Tessa left the grave of Victorio Colenzo, she fled in haste and fright; she did not go at once to her own home for she feared that she might be followed; she had become a fugitive as truly as Manuello was, for, now, she was to him as if she were, indeed, his wife, attending to all wants of his that she could satisfy, and, secretly and silently, becoming but the shadow of the gay and pretty girl that she had been before; her friends, who saw her often, noted this sad change, but did not know its cause.

Father Felix watched the girl at times and pitied her, for he had learned that she had been devoted to the handsome peasant whom he also was assured was guilty of some crime and, since his disappearance, he had figured out some things that made him almost certain what the crime had been, for the good Priest was much alone and thought more deeply about many things than those who have not followed psychic lines of reasoning.

One morning, Father Felix went, again, to visit Ruth, and found Estrella with her, and he asked the girl about her little friend who had been dear to her from early little girlhood; Estrella told him that she had not seen her for some time, as, when she'd gone to visit her, she had been gone, and Tessa had not come to see her as she'd asked her to, for she had left word for her where to come to find her, knowing she could trust her, for she'd always been a true and faithful friend to her.

The good Priest pondered for a moment, then he said:

"I wish that you would go, at once, to see your little friend; I think that she is at her home at present, and I wish that you would try to discover what it is that is troubling her, for she is most unhappy over something and I wish that you would help her if you can for she is in need of understanding help at this time more than at any time during my acquaintance with her. Go, my Daughter, find your little friend and try to assist her if you can."

Estrella, having secured the permission of Ruth, followed the advice of the good Priest and departed on her errand of love and kindness.

When Father Felix had been assured of their privacy, he turned to his companion and said:

"I have information of importance to give you, my Daughter. We are drawing nearer and nearer to the goal we seek. Our compatriots are growing weary of blockading Havana and other harbors near to us and will very soon advance into the interior of Cuba. When that time comes there will be great suffering all around us and I think that it will be best for you and me to form a sort of secret society with passwords, which, while simple in themselves, will convey to us a secret meaning. You and I must act as one in this matter.... I am sure of your fealty and you can rely upon mine but how many others there are near to us upon whose loyalty we can depend I do not know. Estrella is discreet and thoughtful for an uneducated and untrained girl, but she would have no idea of what course to pursue under complicated or difficult circumstances, so that it may be necessary to keep many events secret from her. There are many spies already in Cuba and there are those among us who would be willing to exchange the lives and property of their best friends for personal emolument. I know one young fellow who has, as I believe, already sold his birthright of truth and honor for a mess of pottage and there are others of his ilk. I rely on you alone in all this village of San Domingo ... you, alone, are strong and capable ... you, alone, are thoroughly American and devoted to your native land. I rely on you, my Daughter, and you may rely on me. Let us now arrange a secret pact between us so that, should we be separated, we may be sure of any word that each may send the other. If I send to you a message adding to the body of it the word pax alone, then I will mean to signify that all is well with me and that I do not know of any secret danger threatening you, but if to the word pax I add vobiscum, then you are to be made aware that danger threatens you, while I may, yet, be safe from it, but if I say Pax vobiscus then I'll mean that we are both in danger of a similar nature; if I send these latter words, you are to use all means of safety at your command to seclude yourself from outside notice just as much as possible and to try to find me if you can do so without exposure to yourself; but if I say just pax then I mean what the word implies, and you may go to and from your home with freedom. I will come to see you just as often as I can and I will arrange to have the officers of our own army and navy visit you and then you will use your own good judgment combined with what knowledge they will give to you as to how you will proceed, knowing that my spirit will be with you even if my body cannot be ... even if I should be separated from this perishable body, my Daughter, I think that God would let me come to you to help you.... He would know our need and it is my belief He would supply it. Let us pray to Him for guidance, now, before I leave you for the night. Father in heaven, protect and guide our footsteps while we stay upon this mundane sphere of spiritual action. Help us do what we were meant to do and teach us how to walk in unknown paths which we are, now, about to enter on. May what is just and right be conquerors in conflicts that will, very soon, be carried on about us. May the souls of those about to leave this world be prepared for the great change from this world to another one, and may we, who are Thy humble servants, do the things that will be pleasing in Thy sight. Bless us, now, and guide us unto Thee. Amen."

When Estrella reached the home of little Tessa, she found her friend about to go somewhere but where she would not say ... she seemed so much distraught about it that Estrella did not ask the second time where she was going; she could see that she had made some preparations for the journey, for she had a small bag filled with eatables and a jug of home-made vintage in her hands; Estrella plainly saw how distressed she was and how wan and weary, too, and, so, she only stayed a very short time; but, when she went away, she only went just far enough to be where Tessa could not see her ... then she watched her little friend, but only with the kindest thoughts of her, and saw her take an unused, winding path a little ways, then hasten on without a path at all, so far as she could see; she wound among the cacti, fearlessly, as if upon a very important errand, and as if she feared that she would be too late to do the errand she was bent upon; Estrella watched her for a time, and, then, still with the kindest thoughts of Tessa, followed after her, but far enough behind her so she could not see her ... she would stoop behind a friendly bit of brush whenever little Tessa turned around and gazed about her like a startled little bird about to seek its hidden nest; so, unobserved, Estrella followed after her, and came, at length, to that small clearing where the ruined hut had stood for many years; Estrella knew about it, having found it at the same time Manuello had, indeed, for they two used to roam the hills together when they were but little children ... sometimes Tessa went with them, but, oftener, they were alone; and, so, Estrella peered within the ruined hut and saw its occupant as he lay there in bitter pain and wan and weary, too, like little Tessa was; she saw the other girl creep past the tumble-down old door that she had set up at the entrance to the hut to shield its inmate from the winds, and, also, to try to keep the fact that he was there at all unknown; she saw the little tender-hearted woman kneel beside the rude couch on which her restless patient lay and kiss the lips that only moaned her name in anguish and despair; she saw her smooth the black and silky hair back from the brow of Manuello, and, then, she heard the following conversation.

"Tell me, little Tessa," said her patient, eagerly, "are you sure you were not seen when you came here, today? I greatly fear that you will yet divulge, in some way, my hiding-place. I could not move a step to save myself, no matter who came here to find me. It is terrible to be like this. I'd rather die than stay here like this for another day.... I wish you'd find a gun, somewhere, and bring it to me the next time you come and let me end the lives of both of us. You are like a little skeleton, yourself.... I wonder what's the matter with you ... are you ill or is it only just the weariness and fright that makes you look so? If you should fail me, I would surely die ... a wounded rat that cannot even run to save itself. Tessa, tell me," he cried out, peevishly, "are you sick? You look so pale today it seems to me you are about to faint away ... and what would I do, then?"

"I don't believe that I am sick," she said, cheerfully. "I'm sure I don't know why I'm pale.... It is very warm today, for one thing ... I hurried up the hill ... Estrella came...."

At that name, her patient roused again:

"Estrella! Are you sure she did not follow you? She could gloat about me, now, if she were minded to ... what did you bring for me to eat, today?" he ended, changing the subject, abruptly. "I'm almost starved to death; I wish you'd come a little earlier, tomorrow."

"I will try, dear Manuello, I will try," said little Tessa, gravely. "I always try to come as soon as I can come when I'm alone and can evade the children."

Manuello tossed a while in silence, then he asked again:

"Are you sure Estrella did not follow you? Look outside and see if there is not someone near the hut. I'm afraid ... I'm dreadfully afraid, somehow, today. I've lain right here, now, all these weeks, and have not been so frightened as I am, somehow, today. Look outside and see!"

And, then, Estrella crept away for she could do no good by staying, and she did not wish to harm either one of her old friends on whose distress she looked.

Estrella went back to the mansion on the hill, a sadder, it is true, and yet also a wiser woman for she'd seen poor little Tessa's secret burden and Manuello's sorry plight.

She went to Father Felix, the next day, to advise with him about what she had seen; he cautioned her not to mention it to anyone she knew, which advice she followed, strictly; it enlightened him to some extent and he pitied little Tessa more than ever, for he knew the sort of man her patient was ... he knew that he was selfish to the very core of him and had no gratitude for anyone who'd helped him; so he pitied little Tessa and began, in many little unknown ways, to help her bear the burden she'd assumed.

To begin with, when she came to the confessional, as almost everyone who lived in San Domingo did, he only asked her questions such as she could answer easily ... he did not touch on murder or on lies or on anything that might lead on to surprising her sad secret; he knew her for a simple-minded, loving, tender little girl and he pitied her and did not try to wring from her her secret, knowing that, in all human probability, she would go, some day, to the ruined hut and find no Manuello there to either curse or bless her: in fact, he looked upon this as the most likely of anything that could occur and, when he saw poor little Tessa fading with anxiety and dread, he went, one day, to see the patient in the deserted hut, and, after that, there was no patient there, for Manuello limped away, as he could stand, at last, and hid from even little Tessa for he thought she had betrayed him, after all, and, so, he cursed her with the balance of his rotten luck.