The priest watched the girl to see what manner of woman might be this daughter of a nun, whose father had been the gay, lawless, debonair Felipe Estevan, of whom wild stories had been told in the old days. When had he ever resisted a love appealing? The man watching her knew the girls of Mexican California too well to doubt what the result would be: the lover first, and the rosary and the prayers afterwards. But the night waned, and the pale moon, facing the morning star, saw her still crouching there against the tree trunk. Ana thought she slept, but her husband's enemy, who had watched her through the night, knew better. He drew Ana aside, and gave her warning. "Tell Felipe Estevan's daughter nothing. I am the priest; that is all. She is not the woman to think this justified," and he touched the monk's robe. "This night I heard her prayers when she thought no one listened; and, Anita, girl, forget all crazy things I said about Rafael's wife helping me to revenge." "You said nothing about Rafael's wife," and Ana faced him with startled eyes. "You said--what was it you said? Oh, that Keith Bryton should help you--Keith Bryton, and his love for a woman who was a saint." As she spoke, the full meaning of his words burst upon her, and she uttered a low cry of dismay. "Barto! Holy God!--_Barto_!" she whispered. But he caught her wrist, and his voice had a note of command in it. "Silence! She may hear you. Forget the fool things I said there at the San Joaquin ranch. I thought I knew something of Keith Bryton, but I was mistaken. I thought I knew much of woman, but one girl at her prayers last night changed all that. We will nurse him well again, if your friends do not murder me, and then I will get him away. Some day when you and I have left all this behind us, I may tell you what I thought I knew, but not now." "But Raquel--" "Raquel will always be first of all the wife of Rafael Arteaga; after that she may show kindness to other human things, even the heretics. But this one heretic we will take the care of off her hands all that we can, Anita. She is not the girl to drag into a man's schemes of revenge." "I think she bewitches you each time she comes near you," flashed Ana, resentfully. "On all other things you talk to me sense, but when it is Raquel, my one friend, you talk riddles always, and you make me feel as if I were walking beside her in the dark or blindfold. What is it you mean? That Bryton thinks of her? How could that be, when they have not met? She thought until last night that he was married, so little interest in him has she. How do you get such crazy things in your head?" "That is true. I find they are crazy things; I confess it to you, and ask you to give no heed to my mistakes." "It was a mistake, then, that he cared?" persisted Ana. "You were so sure--" "It was another woman," broke in the priest, curtly. "Oh yes, there was a woman; but I was the fool when I thought I knew who the woman was; that is all."