To his left is life and liberty. To his right—ah, something dearer than life—Juanita de Quesada, locked in the little church of San Pedro, the outlines of which stand boldly against the star-gemmed heaven.
Within that little sanctuary the altar lamp sheds a soft light over a strange picture. Juanita is lying upon the steps of the altar, her head buried in her arms, and near by stands Father Hilario, his arms folded, gazing compassionately upon her.
“Why does he not come?” moans the girl, lifting her head and looking at the priest with tear-stained eyes from which hope has not yet fled.
Father Hilario is silent. The American does not come because, forsooth, he cannot leave his prison. But why undeceive the girl? Let her hope on to the end.
The opening of a door behind them causes both to start. Jack Ashley stands upon the threshold, a smile upon his face.
With a glad cry Juanita runs to him and takes both his hands. “I was expecting you,” she says, simply.
“Thank you. And you?” asks Ashley, turning to Father Hilario.
“I bore your message. I did not expect you,” replies the priest, regarding the young man with mingled wonder and admiration.
“Then you must have a more flattering opinion of the security of Cuban jails than I. And now, senorita, tell me how you come to be in this unhappy position.”
The story is brief, but interesting.