"And--" he looked at her strangely. "Then it is you--you they bring to marry with Rafael Arteaga. Holy Mary! And it is Felipe's daughter--Felipe Estevan--who sold for a song rather than live under the Americanos; and it is for his daughter I wait here by San Onofre--for his daughter!" Raquel stared at his evident agitation, not understanding. The sentences of the padre sank to muttering beneath the black beard, as he turned and strode away. The vaqueros, standing together holding their horses as if eager to be gone, exchanged wondering glances and eyed the girl curiously. Directly he came striding back and halted beside her. "Yet you marry with Rafael Arteaga," he said, accusingly. "You are Felipe's daughter, yet you are much Americano--eh? You are of the States, is it not so? Between you two, old California will no longer have foot-room from San Jacinto to the water out there. God!" and he ground his heel into the turf. "Yet are you Felipe's daughter, and we must let you go!" "No!" she cried as vehemently as he. "I go nowhere from the rules of my father in this land. The things he loved I love; the things he fought for I will guard! It is for that, father, I marry with Rafael. He is--he is not so much for old California, I know--I hear! His mother is afraid; she grieves over that much! But the two of us--the two of us, with your prayers to help, and we keep him always for our father's country--always till he die--with your help!" "With my--help?" "Your prayers, father! You will see I am Felipe Estevan's daughter, even while I am born in Mexico. I will do what a son would do for our land and our Church. You will see--you will see! It is a blessing from God that you meet me here like this at the edge of the land. Always I have thought these thoughts in my heart, but only to you--a priest--could I say them in words, and it is well you meet me here like this. Your words are the words I needed to make me see what I want to do. It is like a baptism that I went under that water a girl, and your hand lift me out a woman! The Virgin sent me here this day that I meet you. You have opened the gate of the land for Felipe Estevan's daughter." He leaned against the trunk of a young live-oak and stared at her with a derisive smile in the smoke-black eyes. "Yes, the Virgin sent me," he said at last, "and she came near sending me too late. The trail is bad along La Christienita for the night-time, and the night is close. The man will take you back to your friends." "But you, father? You come to the carriage and see the mother of Rafael--no? They wait for us. Dona Luisa is so very old; she will be anxious till she speak with me--and with you." She arose and held out her hand. He regarded her strangely, and shook his head. "The men have other work than to camp with a pleasure party. I stay on this side and have far to travel before sunrise. This once I talk with you--maybe nevermore, and to San Juan you take one message for Rafael Arteaga."