She slowly tore the letter into pieces and threw it on the fire.
"Do you know why I came back?" she asked, which question can hardly have formed part of the plan of action.
"No."
"Because you never pretended that you cared. If you had pretended that you cared for me, I should never have forgiven you."
Marcos did not answer. He looked up slowly, expecting perhaps to find her looking elsewhere. But her eyes met his and she shrank back with an involuntary movement that seemed to be of fear. Her face flushed all over and then the colour faded from it, leaving her white and motionless as she sat staring into the flickering wood-fire.
Presently she rose and walked to the edge of the plateau upon which the hut was built. She stood there looking across to the mountains.
Marcos busied himself with the simple possessions of his host, setting them in order where he had found them and treading out the smouldering embers of the fire. Juanita turned and watched him over her shoulder with a mystic persistency. Beneath her lashes lurked a smile--triumphant and tender.
[
CHAPTER XXVIII]
LE GANT DE VELOURS
They accomplished the rest of the journey without accident. The old spirit of adventure which had led them to these mountains while they were yet children seemed to awaken again, and they were as comrades. But Juanita was absent-minded. She was not climbing skilfully. At one place far above trees or other vegetation she made a false step and sent a great rock rolling down the slope.