"Doña Silvia, the way of love should not be difficult to one of your gentle spirit. Surely, you will find it, with all the joys bordering thereon." Her eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. She moved a little away. "Forgive me," he said anxiously, noting the movement. "I have entered forbidden ground." "No, no, dear Alfredo. For you it is not forbidden ground. There is not a recess within my heart where you might not enter." "You are more than kind, my good friend." "Friend! Captain," showing some impatience, "friend! Good friend!" She tried to hide the sarcasm in her tone by an unusually alluring smile. "I am but one of your many, many good friends. Is it not so?" her voice sounding hard in spite of herself. "O, well, I must be content with whatever the gods see fit to bestow." "Señora, you are not merely one of many. You are my most loyal, my warmest, my ever-remaining, ever-to-be-cherished, never-to-be-forgotten----" He paused, overcome by his own vehemence. "You would scale barbed walls to carry away the señorita of the window pane," leaning wearily on her arm. "Yes, dear Silvia, I would scale those walls," he went on, passionately. "I would scale them and bear you away," taking both her hands. Her warm breath was against his cheek. "I would--I would----" His voice choked. "--Even sing love songs outside the window, to the accompaniment of the guitar. O, Alfredo!" In space of time hardly more than an instant he saw the Señorita Carmelita's eyes flash behind the barred window; heard her gay banter at the house party; felt her soft hand in his as he had spoken love to her at the baile. Very gently he moved away from the señora. Slowly he arose to his feet. The woman quickly realized the effect of her ill-chosen words. She arose also and stood leaning on the back of her chair. For a moment they looked at each other. She was the first to speak, a queer little smile stealing over her face. "Well, Captain Morando, I have made report to you," the smile vanishing. "I must now--journey homeward." He escorted the señora to her horse. Assisting her to mount he kissed her hand in parting salute. She rode leisurely out of the pueblo, pleasantly exchanging greetings with acquaintances along the way. Once on the plains, however, she lashed her horse until the beast plunged and kicked in fury. She quelled him with bit and word, then rode at break-neck speed until he was winded. The peon guard followed in wonderment. CHAPTER XXIII PEDRO ZELAYA BRINGS IMPORTANT NEWS "On with the green boughs, Anselmo. Now, you, Francisco, the turpentine in plenty. Pronto! hombre. Pronto! Hasten! Diablo!" The wind from the Yerba Buena side blew more and more strongly, and finally stiffened to a quarter gale. "It is useless, Señor Zelaya," said the peon Anselmo. "The breeze from the bay so fans the blaze that there is no smoke at all, but all flame."