“I think so. I have no ties there, save those of sentiment. I shall not return, unless, if a doubtful fortune permits, I am able some day to revisit two graves which are dear to me.”
There was a little catch in her voice, and the doctor was far too sympathetic to endeavor forthwith to divert her sad thoughts.
“I knew your father,” he said gently. “He was a most admirable man, but quite unsuited to the environment of a new country, where the dollar is god, and an unstable deity at that. He was swindled outrageously by men who stand high in the community to-day. But you, Miss Maxwell, with your knowledge of Spanish and your other acquirements, should do better here than in Europe, provided, that is, you mean to earn your own living.”
“I am proud to hear you speak well of my father,” she said. “And I am well aware that he was badly treated in business. I fear, too, that his advocacy of the rights of the Indians brought him into disfavor. Of all his possessions the only remnant left to me is a barren mountain, with a slice of fertile valley, in the Quillota district. It yields me the magnificent revenue of two hundred dollars per annum.”
“How in the world did he come to own land there?”
“It was a gift from the Naquilla tribe. He defeated an attempt made to oust them by a big land company. The company has since asked me to sell the property, and offered me a fair price, too, as the cultivable land is a very small strip, but it would be almost like betraying the cause for which he fought, would it not?”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed the doctor, though his heart and not his head dictated the reply. “May I ask you to tell me your plans for the future?” he went on.
“Well, when Mr. Baring heard I was going to England, he was good enough to promise me employment in his London agency as Spanish correspondent. That will fill in two days a week. The rest I can devote to art. I paint a little, and draw with sufficient promise to warrant study, I am told. Anyhow, I am weary of teaching; I prefer to be a pupil.”
“I cannot imagine what the young men of Valparaiso were thinking of to allow a girl like you to slip off in this fashion,” said Christobal with a smile.
“Most of them hold firmly to the belief that a wife’s wedding-dress should be made of gilt-edged scrip.”