"That woman would turn any man's head," murmured Maxwell, inaudibly he thought, and added, with a smile, to the sleepy aunt, who glanced at him, "I was wondering, señora, if your distinguished family had a monopoly of all the wit and beauty in the Peninsula."
Maxwell was a little confused to notice that Bonita had overheard; for a second the long lashes dropped across her eyes, and again there was a flicker of damask in her cheek.
The moon hung over the ocean which stretched away before them, a broad sheet of silver, when the two stood once more on the veranda; and Miss Castro shivered slightly for no apparent cause when Maxwell announced that it was time for him to take his departure. The surf had gone down, and the roar of the breakers diminished to dull pulsations that fell drowsily on the ear, while the warm breeze brought down the fragrance of spices and lilies from the forest. Two of the pure white blossoms nestled among the laces beneath Miss Castro's neck, and their fragrance filled Maxwell's nostrils as he stood close beside her under the effulgent moonlight of the tropics. There was a thrill in the girl's voice which, but for one fact, might have awakened an answering vibration within him.
"So you have trusted me, señor, and I am glad. It is also good that you start from Little Mahu, for so el perro hear the less of you. There are many black people who fear him, and tell him things, but he come first to this factory—and I deal with him. You will leave Mahu, two, three, perhaps four weeks before him. It is true you have no longer any doubt of me?"
"I have no doubt at all. I have trusted you to the utmost."
Bonita's eyes dropped swiftly beneath his gaze, but there was in her attitude no sign of coquetry. She had, the man thought, changed with the night, and put on a quiet simplicity which became her wonderfully. Something impelled him to add:
"I feel that I have done wisely."
Once more the girl's voice thrilled him.
"It is a dangerous country, and who can tell what may happen; but, whatever it costs me, I will help you."
Maxwell felt strangely softened toward her, for it seemed that some influence born of the glamour of the night was at work upon his will. It hardly seemed to emanate from his companion, for Miss Castro was graver than he had ever seen her; but the strange mingling of tenderness and admiration grew stronger in him, and he was glad when the boom of the steamer's whistle rang through the monotone of the surf.