"Oh, he will come back! He cannot have the heart to leave his poor little Lucia. Oh, cruel, cowardly, not to have said one word—not one word to explain all—but it was all my fault, my wicked, odious temper; and after I had seen how vexed he was, too!—Oh, Elsley, Elsley, come back, only come back, and I will beg your pardon on my knees! anything? Scold me, beat me, if you will! I deserve it all! Only come back, and let me see your face, and hear your voice, instead of leaving me here all alone, and the poor children too! Oh, what shall I say to them to-morrow, when they wake and find no father!"
Valencia's indignation had no words. She could only sit on the bed, with Lucia in her arms, looking defiance at all the world above that fair head which one moment dropped on her bosom, and the next gazed up into her face in pitiful child-like pleading.
"Oh, if I but knew where he was gone! If I could but find him! One word —one word would set all right! It always did, Valencia, always! He was so kind, so dear in a moment, when I put away my naughty, naughty temper, and smiled in his face like a good wife. Wicked creature that I was! and this is my punishment. Oh, Elsley, one word, one word! I must find him if I went barefoot over the mountains—I must go, I must—"
And she tried to rise: but Valencia held her down, while she entreated piteously—
"I will go, and see about finding him!" she said at last as her only resource. "Promise me to be quiet here, and I will."
"Quiet? Yes! quiet here!" and she threw herself upon her face on the floor.
She looked up eagerly. "You will not tell Scoutbush?"
"Why not?"
"He is so—so hasty. He will kill him! Valencia, he will kill him! Promise me not to tell him, or I shall go mad!" And she sat up again, pressing her hands upon her head, and rocking from side to side.
"Oh, Valencia, if I dared only scream! but keeping it in kills me. It is like a sword through my brain now!"