She told herself over and over that it was Keith Bryton's fault, and that wooden Mexican woman's fault. Why had she barred her out and raised the aggressive spirit in her? It was not in the beginning that she really meant to take her husband. And why should Keith betray his indifference in the way he did? It was so easy to show him that other men were not indifferent. And oh, the awful dismal tragedy of it! To think that by such a little, little chance she had missed being legitimate queen over this most royal domain! [Illustration: "AFTER THE VERY GAY SUPPER"] But that other woman, the Mexican, would hold it all, always! Another woman might win Rafael's smile and his love-songs, but the acres, the herds, the coin, and the jewels (he had allowed Dona Maria to show the latter to her guests that evening), all those things would be held always in the slender strong hand of Raquel Arteaga--Raquel Arteaga, who stood guard over even his soul, lest the heretics-- Then she smiled a little to herself, an involuntary smile of triumph. Had he not said in the dusk of the corridor last night that his soul was at her feet? With that battle won from the intolerant Mexican girl, were the jewels and the coin out of reach? Had he not said a boat left no track on the ocean,--the boat he had sworn to find a harbor for,--sworn to? Of course it was only a fleeting fancy, but it drifted across her brain as a sort of solace for her fretful, feverish rebellings against the uneven division of things, and it served its purpose, for she was at last lulled into slumber by the dream, though of course it was only a dream. But dreams, when dreamed by two, suggest such alluring possibilities! [Music: _Mi Corazon de Fuego_] Mujer! Mujer! Mi corazon de fuego, Te adore con delirio y con ternura, Porque eres bella angelical criatura, Como los flores que adoran a' Dios; Lejos de ti no me importa la existencia El mundo todo y sus mentidas glorias. Lejos de ti la vida es ilusoria, Porque tu eres mi vida, Tu eres mi amada, Tu eres mi Dios! [Music] CHAPTER XVIII It was two days later, before the sun was high, that Raquel Arteaga rode into the plaza, and, slipping from her horse, walked directly into the little private chapel and closed the door. From the other wing of the corridor Dona Maria and Dona Angela saw her, and exchanged startled glances. Their hostess had arrived, and had not even cast her eyes in their direction. They were both relieved when Rafael and Senor Downing emerged from the portal of the patio. "Ah, she has arrived--my wife," remarked Rafael as he noticed her saddle-horse nibbling at the geraniums. "I sent an Indian messenger this morning. He has been quick; and, Santa Maria! so has she. Look at the horse!" The animal was dripping, and as an Indian boy removed the saddle the water ran down his sides and made little pools in the dust.