“She did; she spoke of him still more disparagingly, though knowing him less. She said he had been introduced to them by the other, and they were accustomed to meet him on occasions. But of late they had learned more of him; and learning this, her aunt—your Carmen—had become very desirous of cutting his acquaintance, as indeed all of them. And that they intended doing so—even if they had remained in California. But now—so soon leaving it, they did not like to humiliate De Lara by giving him the congé he deserves.”
Crozier, with eyes earnestly fixed upon Cadwallader, has listened to the explanation. At its close he cries out, grasping his comrade’s hand:
“Will! you’ve lifted a load from my heart. I now see daylight where all seemed darkness; and beholding yonder hill feel the truth of Campbell’s splendid lines:—
“A kiss can consecrate the ground,
Where mated hearts are mutual bound;
The spot, where love’s first links are wound,
That ne’er are riven,
Is hallowed down to Earth’s profound,
And up to Heaven!”
After repeating the passionate words, he stands gazing on a spot so consecrated to him—the summit of the hill—where, just twenty-four hours ago, he spoke love’s last appeal to Carmen Montijo. For the Crusader has passed out through the Golden Gate, and is now beating down the coast of the Pacific.
Cadwallader’s eyes, with equal interest, are turned upon the same spot, and for a time both are silent, absorbed in sweet reflections; recalling all that had occurred in a scene whose slightest incident neither can ever forgot.
Only when the land looms low, and the outlines of the San Bruno Mountains begin to blend with the purpling sky, does a shadow again show itself on the countenances of the young officers. But now it is different, no longer expressing chagrin, nor the rancour of jealousy; but doubt, apprehension, fear, for the loved ones left behind. Still the cloud has a silver lining, and that is—Harry Blew.