The talk between the mother and daughter had taken place a week before Colonel Vega’s arrival from Paris. On the day his steamer was due, Señora Rojas again spoke to Inez.
“After mass this morning,” she said, “I consulted Father Paul about Pino. He hopes it will be possible for you not to give him a direct answer. He says Pino will be leaving us almost at once. He is to land north of Porto Cabello, and our people are to join him there. Father Paul thinks,” the Señora hesitated, and then went on hastily, “you might let him go in ignorance. You might ask for time to consider. You might even tell him——”
The girl’s cheeks flushed crimson and the tears came to her eyes. The mother looked away. After an instant’s silence she exclaimed bitterly: “It is only a lie to a man who has lied to many women! I think of nothing,” she declared, “but that it would keep him true to your father. What else matters!” she broke forth, “I would lie, cheat, steal,” she cried, “if I could save your father one moment’s suffering.”
The girl took the hand of the elder woman and pressed it to her cheek. “I know,” she whispered, “I know.”
There was a moment’s silence. “If it were anything else!” protested the girl. “If I could change places with father I would run to do it—you know that—but this”—with a gesture of repugnance the girl threw out her hands—“to pretend—to care! It is degrading, it makes me feel unclean.”
“You will make an enemy,” asked the mother coldly, “of the only person who can bring your father back to us? Sooner than let Pino think you care for him, you would let him turn against us? You and Pino,” she pleaded, “are old friends. Your father is his friend. What more natural!” She broke forth hysterically. “I beg of you,” she cried, “I command you not to make an enemy of Pino. Tell him to wait, tell him that now you can think of nothing but your father, but that when your father is free, that if he will only set him free—” The mother held the girl toward her, searching her eyes. “Promise me,” she begged.
Inez regarded her mother unhappily, and turned away.
This, then, on the afternoon of Colonel Vega’s arrival at Curaçao was the position toward him and toward each other of the three women of the Rojas household, and explains, perhaps, why, when that same afternoon Captain Codman told them the marvelous tale of Roddy’s proposition, Señora Rojas and her daughter received the news each in a different manner.
Before she had fully understood, Señora Rojas exclaimed with gratitude:
“It is the hand of God. It is His hand working through this great company.”