"That means nothing to me," I said. "I know nothing of the temple of Siva. I wish to know nothing, for mysticism repels me. But I do know that she gave her word; I do know that she loved him."
"Earthly love fades and passes," said the yogi, solemnly. "She has given her heart to the Master," and he made his gesture of reverence.
There was anger in my eyes as I looked at him. How was one to reply to such jargon?
"I would point out to you, Señor Silva," I said, "that Miss Vaughan is not yet of legal age, and so not quite her own mistress."
"Does your law interfere in matters of the heart?" he inquired blandly; "or in matters of religion?"
"No," I said, flushing at his irony; "but the law demands that, until she is of age, she have a guardian to protect her interests. I shall ask that one be appointed at once."
"To that," said the yogi, mildly, "I have not the least objection. In fact, Mr. Lester, I do not know why you should tell me your plans. But, for some reason, you seem to regard me as an adversary. I am not—I am no man's adversary. I object to nothing; I have no right to object to anything. I am simply Miss Vaughan's friend and well-wisher, and seek her happiness. I should like to be your friend also."
"And Swain's?" I queried, a little brutally.
"The friend of all men," said the yogi, simply. "They are all my brothers. We are children of the same Great Spirit."
I was silent for a moment. Then I took Swain's letter from my pocket.