“Yes, daddy, there were many with bold eyes and ready tongues; but hardly had they begun to speak as friends or companions when their talk was all of money—how much they were planning to make that year; the ‘big deal’ they were going to put through. All were like this—but one.”
“Ah,” breathed Don Padraic.
“That one I have told you of,” she continued. “The man on the train who was so masterful with little Hamilcar. He was not like the others. A man of wit—of sympathies; one who seemed to have understanding of life—”
“And he—?” the father prompted.
“We said ‘adios’ the night before we came to Arizora. I did not see him in the morning, though he said that was his destination.”
They were silent once more. Finally from Benicia a wraith of laughter on fluttering wings of a sigh:
“But, my grave old owl, why these questions? Never before have I seen my daddy play the prying duenna.”
“Heart of mine, thou canst not be blind”—the father’s voice trembled over the intimate pronoun. “I have been thy father, mother, elder brother, all in one. And selfish—selfish beyond measure! Keeping thee chained here to an old man in the wilderness when all the world of love and life lies beyond—”
“No—no, daddy mine!” Tears dewed blue eyes as yearning arm strained him to her.
“—My ’Nicia has her years ahead of her. Her love life must be awakened and given freedom to unfold like a flower in a garden. Yet I have permitted her to come back to me here in the Garden of Solitude because I was lonely. Better far that I sell what we have here and take you back to the world. In these evil days there is no fit mate to be found for you in all Sonora. Hamilcar Urgo has threatened me if I do not give you to him; he is of our blood, but he is abominable. I—”