"And finally, when I had learned to care for him and he was wounded, to have been denied the right of nursing him back to life--my place usurped by you. Surely, I have as much to be proud of as you and I love him a great deal more!" "As much to be proud of---" Jane was saying, for the moment all the warmth gone from her voice, the flame from her cheeks; but her meaning could not have been understood by the other who proudly, defiantly tossed back her head. Beautiful indeed was this brown-skinned, black-eyed girl, as she stood there pleading her rights to an unrequited love--a heart already tenanted by another, and that other, the woman before her. "Now, can you imagine," the girl went on, "how it has hurt me to see you caring for him, to see his eyes forever searching for you? No?" They were silent a moment. A wistful look was in her eyes now, and her voice unmistakably reconcilable when she resumed: "Ah, he was so good and true when I was alone with them--before you came! I pray God, now, that he may be well and that you may make him happy." "Alas, I am afraid that can never be! You cannot understand, and I cannot explain." "Your family objects because he is poor and a common soldier? Yes?" She laughed bitterly, a green light in her eyes. "If it were I, no one could keep me from belonging to him--I would---" "Don't! Don't say it! You don't understand!" Jane reiterated. "Dios, how I loved him! I would have gone through my whole life with him! He must have known it, too." "He was true to me," said Jane, her figure straightening involuntarily, a new gleam in her eyes. "Ah, you are lucky, senorita! I love you, and I could hate you so easily! Go! Go! Take him with you and give him life! Forget me as I shall forget you both!" And impulsively taking from round her neck an Agnus Dei which she was wearing, she placed it in Jane's hands, and added: "Give this to him, please, and do not forget to tell him that I sent good-bye and good luck." Jane would have kissed her had not the blazing eyes of the other forbade. They merely clasped hands, and Teresa turned away. "My uncle lives in Manila. He will take me to Madrid. We cannot live here with these pigs of Americans about us," she said shortly. A moment later she was lost in the crowd. Jane's heart was heavy when the ship moved away. Her eyes searched through the throng for the slight figure of the girl who had abandoned a lost cause. CHAPTER XXVII "IF THEY DON'T KILL YOU"