"No," replied Nora, with a yawn; "but I wish the Don would come back." And he did come back. "I am so glad you have come," she said, frankly, meeting him on the threshold. "I can read it in your eyes," he exclaimed, rapturously. "Oh, how happy that makes me!" And if Sister Anna's head had not appeared behind Nora's shoulder, there is no telling what might have happened. He had brought the spring with him; mountain and valley both had clothed itself in brightest green, in which the bare brown spots on the Gabilan Range were really a relief to the satiated eye. In the deep clefts of the Loma Prieta lay the blackish shade of the _chemasal_, and only one degree less sombre appeared the foliage of the live-oak against the tender green of the fresh grass. Again did Nora all day long watch the sun lying on the mountains--a clear golden haze in the daytime; pink and violet, and purplish gray in the evening mist. "Is it not beautiful?" she asked of Brother-in-law Ben, one evening, as he came up the street and entered the gate. "You are just growing to like our Valley, I see; it is a pity that you should now be 'borne away to foreign climes.'" "And who's to bear me away?" she asked, laughing, as they entered the house. "Let me call Anna," he said; "we will have to hold family council over this." In council he commenced: "Don Pedro has this day requested that I, his legal adviser, go South with him, to see that all papers are properly made out, all preliminaries settled, before he fairly takes possession of his land." "Well?" queried Anna. "Well, my dear, so much for his counsellor Whitehead. But to his friend Benjamin's family he has extended an invitation to accompany us on this trip, presuming that his friend's wife and sister-in-law would be pleased to see this much-praised Southern country." "We'll go, of course," assented Anna, artlessly. "Certainly, my dear--of course;" affirmed easy-going Ben. "But, my dear, I hope you both understand all the bearings of this case." Nora's head drooped, and a flush of pain overspread her face, as she answered, chokingly, "I do." "Then, my dear, since Don Pedro has never mentioned Nora's name to me, except to send message or remembrance, had I not better tell him--" "No, no!" cried Nora, in sudden terror. "Oh, please not; leave it all to me." "Certainly, Mrs. Rutherford," he assented, still more slowly; "I am not the man to meddle with other people's affairs--unasked," he added, remembering, perhaps, his business and calling. "Don't be angry with me, Ben," she pleaded; "you have always been so kind to me. What should I have done without you two? But you know how I feel about this--this miserable affair." "All right, child," he said, pressing her hand. "I should like to give you a piece of advice, but my lawyer's instinct tells me that you will not take it, so that I am compelled to keep my mouth shut--emphatically."