She stopped suddenly, for at that moment a startled little shriek, quickly subdued, rang through the garden. Demorest ran hurriedly down the steps in the direction of the outcry. Joan followed more cautiously. At the first turning of the path Dona Rosita almost fell into his arms. She was breathless and trembling, but broke into a hysterical laugh. “I have such a fear come to me--I cry out! I think I have seen a man; but it was nothing--nothing! I am a fool. It is no one here.” “But where did you see anything?” said Joan, coming up. Rosita flew to her side. “Where? Oh, here!--everywhere! Ah, I am a fool!” She was laughing now, albeit there were tears glistening on her lashes when she laid her head on Joan's shoulder. “It was some fancy--some resemblance you saw in that queer cactus,” said Demorest, gently. “It is quite natural, I was myself deceived the other night. But I'll look around to satisfy you. Take Dona Rosita back to the veranda, Joan. But don't be alarmed, dear--it was only an illusion.” He turned away. When his figure was lost in the entwining foliage, Dona Rosita seized Joan's shoulder and dragged her face down to a level with her own. “It was something!” she whispered quickly. “Who?” “It was--HIM!” “Nonsense,” groaned Joan, nevertheless casting a hurried glance around her. “Have no fear,” said Dona Rosita quickly, “he is gone--I saw him pass away--so! But it was HE--Huanson. I recognize him. I forget him never.” “Are you sure?” “Have I the eyes? the memory? Madre de Dios! Am I a lunatico too? Look! He have stood there--so.” “Then you think he knew you were here?” “Quien sabe?” “And that he came here to see you?” Dona Rosita caught her again by the shoulders, and with her lips to Joan's ear, said with the intensest and most deliberate of emphasis: “NO!” “What in Heaven's name brought him here then?” “You!” “Are you crazy?” “You! you! YOU!” repeated Dona Rosita, with crescendo energy. “I have come upon him here; where he stood and look at the veranda, absorrrb of YOU. You move--he fly.” “Hush!” “Ah, yes! I have said I give him to you. And he came, Bueno,” murmured Dona Rosita, with a half-resigned, half-superstitious gesture. “WILL you be quiet!” It was the sound of Demorest's feet on the gravel path, returning from his fruitless search. He had seen nothing. It must have been Dona Rosita's fancy. “She was just saying she thought she had been mistaken,” said Joan, quietly. “Let us go in--it is rather chilly here, and I begin to feel creepy too.” Nevertheless, as they entered the house again, and the light of the hall lantern fell upon her face, Demorest thought he had never but once before seen her look so nervously and animatedly beautiful. CHAPTER III