“All alone since the passing of Father Junipero,” was the sad answer, as the aged monk made the sign of the cross.
Frank was deeply touched by the melancholy in the old man’s voice and in the lonely life he led there in the ruined mission.
“What is the mission’s income?” questioned Merry.
“Our lands are gone. We have very little,” was the reply. “Still Father Perez has promised to join me, and I have been looking for him. When I heard your horse approaching I thought it might be he. It was but another disappointment. Still, it matters not.”
“Let us take a peep inside,” urged Dulzura. “Just one peep to-night, father.”
“You can see nothing but shadows, my son; but you shall look, if you wish.”
He turned and moved slowly along the path, aided by the staff. They followed him through the gate and into the long stone corridor, where even then the twilight was thick with shadows. In the yard the foliage grew luxuriantly, but in sad neglect and much need of trimming and attention.
At the mission door they paused.
“Let’s go in,” urged Dulzura.
“To-morrow will be time enough,” answered Frank, a sudden sensation of uneasiness and apprehension upon him.