"But what do _you_ say?" continued Donna Dolores, with her eyes fixed upon his face. "I have said already," returned Arthur, with a patient smile. "Morally and legally, my advice is to press the claim!" Donna Dolores turned her eyes away with the slightest shade of annoyance. "_Bueno!_ We shall see. There is time enough. Be seated, Don Arturo. What is this? Surely you will not refuse our hospitality to-night?" "I fear," said Arthur, with grave politeness, "that I must return to the Mission at once. I have already delayed my departure a day. They expect me in San Francisco to-morrow." "Let them wait. You shall write that important business keeps you here, and Diego shall ride my own horse to reach the _embarcadero_ for the steamer to-night. To-morrow he will be in San Francisco." Before he could stay her hand she had rung a small bronze bell that stood beside her. "But, Donna Dolores"----Arthur began, hastily. "I understand," interrupted Donna Dolores. "Diego," she continued rapidly, as a servant entered the room, "saddle Jovita instantly and make ready for a journey. Then return here. Pardon!" she turned to Arthur. "You would say your time is valuable. A large sum depends upon your presence! Good! Write to your partners that I will pay all--that no one else can afford to give as large a sum for your services as myself. Write that here you must stay." Annoyed and insulted as Arthur felt, he could not help gazing upon her with an admiring fascination. The imperious habit of command; an almost despotic control of a hundred servants; a certain barbaric contempt for the unlimited revenues at her disposal that prompted the act, became her wonderfully. In her impatience the quick blood glanced through her bronzed cheek, her little slipper tapped the floor imperiously, and her eyes flashed in the darkness Suddenly she stopped, looked at Arthur, and hesitated. "Pardon me; I have done wrong. Forgive me, Don Arturo. I am a spoiled woman who for five years has had her own way. I am apt to forget there is any world beyond my little kingdom here. Go, since it must be so, go at once." She sank back on the sofa, half veiled her face with her fan, and dropped the long fringes of her eyes with a deprecating and half languid movement. Arthur stood for a moment irresolute and hesitating, but only for a moment. "Let me thank you for enabling me to fulfil a duty without foregoing a pleasure. If your messenger is trustworthy and fleet it can be done. I will stay." She turned towards him suddenly and smiled. A smile apparently so rare to that proud little mouth and those dark, melancholy eyes; a smile that disclosed the smallest and whitest of teeth in such dazzling contrast to the shadow of her face; a smile that even after its brightness had passed still left its memory in a dimple in either nut-brown cheek, and a glistening moisture in the dark eyes--that Arthur felt the warm blood rise to his face.