“El Doctor says—oh, my friend, you must not stay here in the Garden longer. The rurales are gathering at Babinioqui, El Doctor tells me—with Urgo. That means but one thing: Urgo is bringing them here, and you—”
“But you!” Grant interrupted almost fiercely. “What of you? Must I run away and leave you unprotected from that man?” The girl drew away from him as if in very defiance of some mastering impulse which would push her into his arms.
“I—my people will fight for me if need be. Urgo comes for you this time, and I cannot be sure these children”—a vague sweep of her hand toward the winking village fires—“that these children would fight for you, whom they scarcely know.” There was that brave yet pitiful resolution in her tone when she spoke of the hazard of Urgo’s probable sally upon her own person which crashed through all a lover’s carefully built barriers of restraint. Unmindful of the events of recent hours, of the girl’s fresh bereavement, Grant crushed her to him hotly.
“Oh, ’Nicia—’Nicia, can’t you understand! I must go—yes, to-morrow! Not because Urgo is coming to get me but because your being here alone forces me away from you. Yet I cannot think of leaving you to fight that man single-handed. ’Nicia—precious!—you will come—you must come with me up over the Line where—”
“Oh, please—please stop!” Hands were feebly pressing him away. Glint of starlight revealed tears a-tremble on her lashes. “Grant—great heart—I understand. I cry for you. See! My eyes tell you what is in my heart. But I cannot give myself to you when that—that terrible thing of misfortune and death goes with me. I—the mark I bear brought death to my dear father!”
He looked down into her eyes, appalled at this last speech. Before he could hush her she faltered on:
“But El Doctor brought me also good news—wonderful news! It is that I can lift this evil from me if—if”—she seemed to falter before a possibility scarce credible—“if the finding of the gold and jewels El Rojo stained with his sacrilege and their restoration to a sanctuary of the Church will be acceptable in God’s sight.”
The hint of purpose in Benicia’s voice revealed the edge of the truth. “Do you mean El Doctor knows where the Lost Mission lies and that you intend to find it?” Grant pressed her. The girl gave answer:
“He knows where the gold and pearls of the Lost Mission are. He knows, too, the story of El Rojo and how I bear the weight of his guilt. Because he loved my father he says he loves me too much to have me go on and on under an evil spell. Father’s death opens his lips and—”