But Longorio heard no voice except Alaire's. In fact, since entering the living-room he had scarcely taken his eyes from her. Now he drew his evenly arched brows together in a plaintive frown, saying, "You are inhospitable!" Then his expression lightened. "Or is it," he asked—"is it that you are indeed apprehensive for me?"
Alaire tried to speak quietly. "I should never forgive myself if you came to harm here at my ranch."
Longorio sighed. "And I hoped for a warmer welcome—especially since I have done you another favor. You saw that hombre who came with me?"
"Yes."
"Well, you would never guess that it is your José Sanchez, whom I prevailed upon to return to your employ. But it is no other; and he comes to beg your forgiveness for leaving. He was distracted at the news of his cousin's murder, and came to me—"
"His cousin was not murdered."
"Exactly! I told him so when I had learned the facts. A poor fellow this Panfilo—evidently a very bad man, indeed—but José admired him and was harboring thoughts of revenge. I said to him: 'José, my boy, it is better to do nothing than to act wrongly. Since it was God's will that your cousin came to a bad end, why follow in his footsteps? You will not make a good soldier. Go back to your beautiful employer, be loyal to her, and think no more about this unhappy affair.' It required some argument, I assure you, but—he is here. He comes to ask your forgiveness and to resume his position of trust."
"I am glad to have him back if he feels that way. I have nothing whatever to forgive him."
"Then he will be happy, and I have served you. That is the end of the matter." With a graceful gesture Longorio dismissed the subject. "Is it to be my pleasure," he next inquired, "to meet Señor Austin, your husband?"
"I am afraid not."