"She did not believe in these," she said, quietly, "but we will light them for her, just the same. None of us knew whom they would burn for; perhaps she knows now, Rafael."
He made no answer, but moved like a man stunned mentally. Out beside her he walked to the altar-place, and the people made way for them.
It was the hour of dawn when a fisherman rode from the beach to tell how he had found two sailors beaten and bound at the landing-place. They had a story of a sailing-vessel and sacks of coin, and a bearded man who looked like El Capitan; but it must have been his ghost, for it was thought Capitan was dead, as well as Juan Flores. At any rate, the vessel was gone, and the sailors were left tied on the shore. They were afraid to face Rafael Arteaga, because of the coin he had trusted them with, and the good boat, gone now straight out of sight—the saints and the devil only knew where!
But they needed not to fear Rafael. The coin, for which he had exchanged all the cattle and horses possible to sell in two days' time, was a forgotten thing to him, or uncared for. He sat apart and silent, as though paralyzed by a great fear, and he ever followed Raquel Arteaga with his eyes, and said nothing.
The people wondered much that the robbers who would kill a woman and steal a boat had not stopped also to gather up the scattered jewels strewn about her. But they had not. Not even a diamond was missing. They were gathered from the tiles, and the blood was washed from them, and the casket was taken to Raquel by Ana, who was almost as silent as Rafael. On that subject, never in their lives would they gain courage to speak. Raquel took the casket, and looked at the gems, but did not touch them.
"And for such trifles she lost her life, perhaps her soul—who knows?" she said, in the same colorless quiet way, and handed the casket to her husband. "Rafael, have these put away for her child, when she becomes a woman. They were paid for by the mother!"
From that night Rafael Arteaga was a changed man. Some said he had gone mad at the death of the woman there; others said that it was not the death of the woman, but the curse of the Arteagas had fallen upon him. No one ever heard him laugh or sing again; and when his wife brought pretty Marta's little boy from the willows, and had him educated to inherit after his father, the father accepted him almost without notice.
Keith Bryton never came back. Letters concerning the child of Doña Angela were exchanged with Don Eduardo, who remained her guardian, and after that there were long years of silence. Only one man, far down the coast of South America, guessed what Raquel Arteaga lived through. Even to Ana, who had left her own land to join him, there were some things known to him of the old Mission days, and never told.