"We parleyed further. She was obdurate. She tried to cut me short with the words: 'I request that this conversation cease and that you do not again mention to me the name of Captain Morando.' "Yet still did I refuse to accept her dismissal of the subject. You see, my one-time knight, I was determined to fulfill your wishes, no matter what came." She lowered her eyes with a tender little sigh, but went on hastily. "I continued to speak of you and of your love for her. She almost flung at me: 'Captain Morando is nothing to me, nor can he ever be. I would not wish it otherwise.' "Then I concluded: 'At least accept his word that he meant no harm by his attentions to you.' To this she gave no response. "We were now at the hacienda gate. She summoned the peon who had my horse in charge. As I mounted she said: 'Remember, if you call again, I shall give word to my maid to tell you I am not at home.'" The young man came to her side and took her hand in both his. "Forgive me, señora. Forgive me, my dear friend, the stupid selfishness in asking you to do such an errand. When I think of your goodness to me and of my placid acceptance of it I curse myself for a brute." "You are harsh with yourself, Alfredo," putting her disengaged hand on his. "No, señora, a thousand times, no. How can I ever atone for my thoughtlessness!" The lustrous brown eyes were looking gently at him. He gazed into their beautiful depths. She leaned a trifle nearer. He continued: "I have been a cur! You have suffered your life long. You generously gave me the confidences of your heart. I saw how empty your years have been of the things that, after all, really count in this world; yet I, selfish fool! could only whine about my own loss." "Don't, don't, Alfredo. You must not say such words." "Dear amiga, you are too forgetful of yourself, always thinking of the good you may do others. You have a claim on me, a strong claim, which I shall always remember; for, no matter how unwitting on my part, unhappiness came to you years ago, and that unhappiness still persists. Added to this, I have been the direct cause of your losing your friend, the Doña Carmelita. I wish I could make compensation." The woman's eyes drooped. Her hands fell to her side. "The past is gone--gone the way of all past things," she said, very slowly. "But the hurt continues," he returned. "You certainly cannot blame yourself for that." He dropped on his knees beside her. "My dear señora, my true friend, ask what you will of me, and if I can accomplish it, it shall be yours. I would do anything to be of service to you." She raised her eyes and put her hand on his shoulder. "Alfredo, how could you retrieve a broken life? Why, I envy the love of the peonas for their husbands who fell by your side at La Cuesta de los Gatos. Though bereft their love lives on. Their heart is not empty, as is mine--as is mine. Ah, me!"