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"An ill-timed one, then." "No," answered Felipe, "it is not a jest." "But, Felipe," murmured Buelna. "But why I do not understand." "I think I begin to," cried Martiarena. "Senor, you do not," protested Felipe. "It is not to be explained. I know what you believe. On my honour, I love Buelna." "Your actions give you the lie, then, young man. Bah! Nonsense. What fool's play is all this?

Only to-day the party that is to say, Martiarena, the Mother Superior and Buelna left for Santa Teresa, and at midnight of this very night Buelna takes the veil. You know your own heart, Senor Felipe. Go your way." "But not till midnight!" cried Felipe. "What? I do not understand." "She will not take the veil till midnight." "No, not till then." "Rafael," cried Felipe, "ask me no questions now.

He found the road that led to the Mission and turned into it, pushing forward at a canter. Then suddenly at a sharp turning reined up just in time to avoid colliding with a little cavalcade. He uttered an exclamation under his breath. At the head of the cavalcade rode old Martiarena himself, and behind him came a peon or two, then Manuela, the aged housekeeper and after a fashion duenna.

Kiss him, Buelna, and have done with it." Felipe gnawed his nails. "Believe me, oh, believe me, Senor Martiarena, it must not be." "Then an explanation." For a moment Felipe hesitated. But how could he tell them the truth the truth that involved Rubia and his disloyalty, temporary though that was. They could neither understand nor forgive. Here, indeed, was an impasse.

Confusion seized upon him. All that was clear in his mind were the last words of Rubia. It seemed to him that between his lips he carried a poison deadly to Buelna above all others. Stupidly, brutally he precipitated the catastrophe. "No," he exclaimed seriously, abruptly drawing his hand from Buelna's, "no. It may not be. I cannot." Martiarena stared. Then: "Is this a jest, senor?" he demanded.

For the next Mission two sites were suggested; but, as early as June 17, Corporal Ballesteros erected a church, missionary-house, granary, and guard-house at the point called by the natives Popeloutchom, and by the Spaniards, San Benito. Eight days later, Lasuen, aided by Padres Catala and Martiarena, founded the Mission dedicated to the saint of that day, San Juan Bautista.

Meanwhile Felipe, hatless, bloody, was galloping through the night, his pony's head turned toward the hacienda of Martiarena. The Rancho Martiarena lay between his own rancho and the inn where he had met Rubia, so that this distance was not great. He reached it in about an hour of vigorous spurring.

There had been a time, three months past, when Felipe found no compulsion in the admission, for though betrothed to Buelna Martiarena he had abruptly conceived a violent infatuation for Rubia, and had remained a guest upon her rancho many weeks longer than he had intended. For three months he had forgotten Buelna entirely.

There was a delicate expectancy in her manner that she nevertheless contrived to make compatible with her native modesty. Felipe had been her acknowledged lover ever since the two were children. "Well?" cried Martiarena as Felipe hesitated. Even then, if Felipe could have collected his wits, he might have saved the situation for himself. But no time had been allowed him to think.

A little girl gay and free once more, she romped through the hallways and kitchen of the old hacienda Martiarena with her playmate, the young Felipe; a young schoolgirl, she rode with him to the Mission to the instruction of the padre; a young woman, she danced with him at the fete of All Saints at Monterey.