"He is here even now, with that pompous fool the American alcalde from Monterey, a wretch who knows nothing of the country or the people, but who helped the other American to claim me.I tell thee, Francisco, like as not it is all a folly, some senseless blunder of those Americanos that imposes upon Don Juan's simplicity and love for them.""How looks he, this Americano who seeks thee?" asked Francisco.
"What care I how he looks," said Juanita, "or what he is? He may have the four S's, for all I care.Yet," she added with a slight touch of coquetry, "he is not bad to look upon, now I recall him.""Had he a long moustache and a sad, sweet smile, and a voice so gentle and yet so strong that you felt he ordered you to do things with out saying it? And did his eye read your thoughts?--that very thought that you must obey him?""Saints preserve thee, Pancho! Of whom dost thou speak?""Listen, Juanita.It was a year ago, the eve of Natividad, he was in the church when I sang.Look where I would, I always met his eye.When the canticle was sung and I was slipping into the sacristy, he was beside me.He spoke kindly, but I understood him not.He put into my hand gold for an aguinaldo.I pretended Iunderstood not that also, and put it into the box for the poor.He smiled and went away.Often have I seen him since, and last night, when I left the Mission, he was there again with Father Pedro.""And Father Pedro, what said he of him?" asked Juanita.
"Nothing." The boy hesitated."Perhaps--because I said nothing of the stranger."Juanita laughed."So thou canst keep a secret from the good father when thou carest.But why dost thou think this stranger is my new guardian?""Dost thou not see, little sister? he was even then seeking thee,"said the boy with joyous excitement."Doubtless he knew we were friends and playmates--may be the good father has told him thy secret.For it is no idle tale of the alcalde, believe me.I see it all! It is true!""Then thou wilt let him take me away," exclaimed the girl bitterly, withdrawing the little hand he had clasped in his excitement.
"Alas, Juanita, what avails it now? I am sent to San Jose, charged with a letter to the Father Superior, who will give me further orders.What they are, or how long I must stay, I know not.But Iknow this: the good Father Pedro's eyes were troubled when he gave me his blessing, and he held me long in his embrace.Pray Heaven Ihave committed no fault.Still it may be that the reputation of my gift hath reached the Father Superior, and he would advance me."And Francisco's eyes lit up with youthful pride at the thought.
Not so Juanita.Her black eyes snapped suddenly with suspicion, she drew in her breath, and closed her little mouth firmly.Then she began a crescendo.
Mother of God! was that all? Was he a child, to be sent away for such time or for such purpose as best pleased the fathers? Was he to know no more than that? With such gifts as God had given him, was he not at least to have some word in disposing of them? Ah!
SHE would not stand it.
The boy gazed admiringly at the piquant energy of the little figure before him, and envied her courage."It is the mestizo blood," he murmured to himself.Then aloud, "Thou shouldst have been a man, 'Nita.""And thou a woman."
"Or a priest.Eh, what is that?"
They had both risen, Juanita defiantly, her black braids flying as she wheeled and suddenly faced the thicket, Francisco clinging to her with trembling hands and whitened lips.A stone, loosened from the hillside, had rolled to their feet; there was a crackling in the alders on the slope above them.
"Is it a bear, or a brigand?" whispered Francisco, hurriedly, sounding the uttermost depths of his terror in the two words.
"It is an eavesdropper," said Juanita, impetuously; "and who and why, I intend to know," and she started towards the thicket.
"Do not leave me, good Juanita," said the young acolyte, grasping the girl's skirt.
"Nay; run to the hacienda quickly, and leave me to search the thicket.Run!"The boy did not wait for a second injunction, but scuttled away, his long coat catching in the brambles, while Juanita darted like a kitten into the bushes.Her search was fruitless, however, and she was returning impatiently when her quick eye fell upon a letter lying amidst the dried grass where she and Francisco had been seated the moment before.It had evidently fallen from his breast when he had risen suddenly, and been overlooked in his alarm.It was Father Pedro's letter to the Father Superior of San Jose.
In an instant she had pounced upon it as viciously as if it had been the interloper she was seeking.She knew that she held in her fingers the secret of Francisco's sudden banishment.She felt instinctively that this yellowish envelope, with its red string and its blotch of red seal, was his sentence and her own.The little mestiza had not been brought up to respect the integrity of either locks or seals, both being unknown in the patriarchal life of the hacienda.Yet with a certain feminine instinct she looked furtively around her, and even managed to dislodge the clumsy wax without marring the pretty effigy of the crossed keys impressed upon it.Then she opened the letter and read.
Suddenly she stopped and put back her hair from her brown temples.
