Clemencia's Crisis 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
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CLEMENCIA'S CRISIS 
 
Far out the waters dissolved from blue into wondrous 
 shades of green [ Page 3 ] 
 
>^ 
 
 Clemencia's Crisis 
 
 BY 
 
 OBtiitf) ©gDen ^arrf0on 
 
 Author of 
 
 The Lady of the Snows" '' Princess Sayranef 
 "Prince Silverwingsf* etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 FRED J. ARTING 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
 1915 
 
Copyright 
 
 A. C. McClurg & Co. 
 
 1915 
 
 Published October, 1915 
 
 W. r. HALL PHINTINC COMPANY, CMIOAOO 
 
®o iMp Jf rientrj; 
 
 In that Wonderful Land of Sunshine and 
 Flowers and Hospitality — 
 
 Calitornm 
 
 ivi530791 
 
y/ 
 
 WP glorious February morning a young 
 man stood on the summit of a beauti- 
 ful pass in the San Rafael Mountains. He 
 belonged to a type which would have at- 
 tracted attention anywhere, but alone, in 
 that splendid setting, into which he seemed 
 to fit so well, he was especially worth 
 observation. 
 
 Tall and well built, his cumbersome knap- 
 sack, which might have appeared unwieldy 
 on another man, seemed but to contribute 
 
 [I] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 grace. The olive tint of his face showed Intimate 
 acquaintance with nature. His deep-set eyes, now 
 gray, now steel blue, looked steadily ahead. His 
 clean-shaven jaw showed great strength of pur- 
 pose and evidence that the will of Its possessor 
 once aroused would dominate to the end. The 
 humorous mouth softened a bit the almost sinister 
 sternness of the face, and when the latter relaxed 
 Into smiles It seldom failed to win a friend. 
 
 Here unquestionably was a handsome man, and, 
 as his record showed, a brave one. Before he 
 was twenty Lieutenant Arslan Barrlngton had 
 won his spurs In active service, and under Dewey 
 sailed quickly and fearlessly Into the hearts of the 
 American people. 
 
 He had accompanied our now famous admiral 
 on the dark night when in Manila Bay he had 
 carried his ship stanchly into the enemy's midst, 
 while they slept, winning fame for himself and 
 glorifying a nation. 
 
 But that victory was not the only one in which 
 Lieutenant Barrlngton had shared. Every line 
 of his splendid figure showed that he was born to 
 fight and, although when he was deeply moved his 
 quivering nostrils and his glowing face Indicated 
 
 [2] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cr{0i0 
 
 a somewhat sensitive nature, one never mistook 
 the strength revealed in his countenance. 
 
 Standing now with cap in hand he watched the 
 blue waters of the Pacific — that ocean so rare in 
 its beauty, so unforgetable in its splendor. The 
 waves, tipped with sunshine, flashed fire, while the 
 air above quivered with luminous rays. Far out 
 the waters dissolved from blue into wondrous 
 shades of green, and across the rainbow colors 
 misty, mysterious islands reared their heads, glint- 
 ing like jewels in a turquoise setting. 
 
 Dropping his gaze to the land below him the 
 young officer tried to make out the Franciscan 
 mission of Santa Barbara, for that was his destina- 
 tion. The admiral of the Pacific squadron at 
 San Diego had, a few days previously, intrusted 
 him with special dispatches to be carried there. 
 
 And then an announcement from the President 
 of the United States was flashed around the 
 world! From the Atlantic to the Pacific, from 
 East to West, the wires tingled with its impor- 
 tance. From the smallest adobe in the foothills 
 of the Sierras to the palaces on the Hudson the 
 interest vibrated. The American fleet would sail 
 around the globe ! 
 
 [3] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Lieutenant Barrington had undertaken the 
 journey to Santa Barbara with dehght, especially 
 as he had sufficient time to allow of his walking 
 over the Casitas Pass. In no better way could he 
 travel that sunlit California than with a map and 
 compass. The trails were not always clear, but 
 he never minded a detour, for it invariably 
 revealed some unexpected beauty. The graceful 
 grouping of the mountains, the surprises of can- 
 yons and dividing ridges, all so supremely lovely 
 that it is impossible to overestimate their charm, 
 were indescribable. 
 
 And color ! That wonderful paint brush which 
 nature alone can wield! One minute the moun- 
 tains are gold and dazzling, then a passing cloud 
 seems to steal the miser's heap and they suddenly 
 become deep blue or steel or purple. Perhaps one 
 white as silver looms up against a rosy-colored 
 sky. Sometimes a bird flutters from the branches 
 of a silver fir and sings a melody of spring. But 
 always from the storm-beaten fringes of their icy 
 peaks to the lowest regions of meadow, bright 
 with flowers, the mountains are magnificent. 
 
 With his field-glasses Barrington at last spied 
 the mission — beautiful enough to attract atten- 
 
 [4] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 tion, even did one know naught of its interesting 
 history. Built on the crest of a hill commanding 
 a view of the valley, its twin towers are boldly 
 outlined against the higher range. 
 
 The young man descended the pass rapidly 
 and came out in an open stretch of valley. He had 
 almost finished his journey. The mountains 
 had been cool, but here in the valley the day had 
 become suddenly very warm and he felt his energy 
 wane. 
 
 It was high noon. He would find shelter, eat 
 his modest lunch, sleep away the heated hours of 
 the afternoon and reach the mission in time for 
 supper. He threw himself down under the shade 
 of a great pepper tree and sank to sleep almost 
 as soon as his head touched the ground. 
 
 [5] 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 HOW long he had been asleep he did not 
 know, but it must have been several hours, 
 for when he opened his eyes again the sun was 
 setting low and he awakened suddenly as if some 
 thing had disturbed him. He sat up and leaned 
 against the trunk of the pepper tree and as he did 
 so he realized what it was that had broken in upon 
 his rest. 
 
 Three women were approaching and from their 
 attire he judged they were nuns. He arose and 
 stood waiting for them to come near him. 
 
 Two of the women were old, but the third, from 
 a certain easy undulation In her walk, he knew was 
 young. Their heavy full-skirted brown dresses 
 were looped up on one hip and together with their 
 flat shoes retarded their movements. But in spite 
 of this, the elastic step of the woman in the center 
 betrayed unmistakably her youthful vigor. They 
 were conversing earnestly. 
 
 The young woman appeared to be protesting 
 
 [6] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crf0i0 
 
 vigorously and her excitement was in great con- 
 trast to the calmness of the others. All three were 
 too engrossed to notice him, although they were 
 so near now that he caught a part of their conver- 
 sation. 
 
 He decided to make his presence known, but 
 quickly changed his mind and drew back beneath 
 the branches of the tree. For a strange thing was 
 happening. The nuns had stopped. The two 
 older ones faced him, and, lifting their hands, 
 began praying aloud. The third sank on her 
 knees before them, her face in her hands. He 
 could not understand what they said, but at last 
 the words, " Heaven give peace to our afflicted 
 sister," fell on his ears. Then, ceasing, they kissed 
 her on the forehead, chin, and either cheek. In this 
 manner making a cross. When she had risen to 
 her feet they kissed her cheek again and after 
 saying aloud, " Beloved, good-bye," they turned 
 and walked away quickly. 
 
 The young nun remained Immovable until they 
 had disappeared. When the last flutter of their 
 brown garments had faded In the distance she 
 raised her hands deliberately and took off her cap 
 and veil. Then gradually she loosened her hair. 
 
 [7] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 It fell In a long yellow stream far below her waist. 
 Suddenly she shook her head and the golden 
 shower floated from her In waves of light, falling 
 almost to her knees. The man who watched her 
 wondered that one woman could possess so much. 
 It waved, It rippled, it shimmered In the sunshine. 
 He had never dreamed anything so glorious as 
 this woman's loosened hair. It was bewildering. 
 It thrilled him. Then the reflection that the pos- 
 sessor of this golden mass was utterly unconscious 
 of his presence gave him a tingling sensation of 
 guilt. 
 
 Overhead In the rich blue of the sky masses 
 of foamy white clouds were floating. In the 
 feathery branches of the pepper tree the red ber- 
 ries flaunted their vivid scarlet beauty, but of all 
 the brilliant color the man saw nothing but the 
 shower of dazzling gold. He had had no view at 
 all of the woman's face. Indeed, with this glinting 
 veil and the brilliant sunlight which fell over her 
 head and body he could scarcely distinguish her 
 form. 
 
 Suddenly she gave a great cry and stretching her 
 arms out wildly threw herself upon the ground 
 and broke Into piteous weeping. Sobs shook her 
 
 [8] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cri0i0 
 
 slender form from head to foot. She quivered 
 with a grief so violent he wondered what could be 
 the tragedy which it expressed. 
 
 He began to feel most uncomfortable. It 
 seemed almost criminal to watch this woman who, 
 believing herself to be alone, was giving away to 
 her sorrow. Still, he could not leave any human 
 creature suffering as she evidently was without 
 offering assistance. 
 
 Impulsively he took a step forward. She heard 
 his footsteps and sat up instantly, at the same time 
 drawing her hair more thickly across her face, 
 concealing it entirely. When he reached her side 
 she had ceased to sob. Only a long quivering 
 movement of her body showed her agitation. 
 
 As he stood before her he never felt more awk- 
 ward in his life, yet he felt that he must say some- 
 thing, and after the manner of man he asked the 
 first question which came into his mind. 
 
 " Can you show me the Camino del Rey? " 
 
 She started to rise, but her paroxysm of grief 
 had weakened her and she staggered. Impul- 
 sively he caught her hands to aid her to her feet. 
 Only an instant he held them because she withdrew 
 them at once, but though her face was still con- 
 
 [9] 
 
" El Camino del Rey " 
 
Clemencia'0 €n0{0 
 
 cealed behind the golden veil he saidMnstinctively 
 to himself: 
 
 " I am sure that she is beautiful. Her hands 
 have told me so." 
 
 He had caught only a fleeting glance at them, 
 it is true, as they lay for an instant in his own, but 
 that glance had revealed that they were slender, 
 white, and the pink palms and pinker nails showed 
 refinement and culture. She was no ordinary nun 
 living by daily routine and drudgery; of that he 
 was convinced. 
 
 When she spoke he would learn more from her 
 voice. But she did not speak, and her manner 
 compelled him also to silence. There was aloof- 
 ness even in her way of answering his question, 
 for she merely raised the brown-shrouded arm 
 and pointed silently to the way he should follow. 
 Then before he could thank her for even this 
 silent courtesy she turned and walked swiftly in 
 the opposite direction until she disappeared into 
 the valley. 
 
 As he took his way down the road to which she 
 had pointed, although he had not even seen her 
 face or obtained the slightest clew to her name 
 he told himself calmly: 
 
 [II] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " I know I shall see that woman again. Strange, 
 even ridiculous as it may seem, I was never more 
 convinced of anything in my life. Something 
 passed between us when I touched her hands and 
 although no words were uttered, it seemed as if 
 our souls spoke together." 
 
 I 
 
 [12] 
 

 ^^s^^f^^Pli\. 
 
 loll 
 
 CHAPTER m 
 
 ALL around Barrington the q^^ress and the 
 L myrtle bloomed. Birds in scarlet plumage 
 flickered like flame between the branches of the 
 green trees as he passed by groves where golden 
 oranges dangled temptingly. 
 
 He was in the most fascinating highway in all 
 the world — the Camino del Rey, which, like a 
 broad ribbon, stretches through California and 
 which once connected the missions and linked the 
 settlements built by the Spaniards and the Indians. 
 What wonderful tales could be written of it — 
 tales of the splendid heroism of the padres, with- 
 out whose mighty efforts California could not have 
 lived in those early days when, happily or wearily, 
 
 [13] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cti0is! 
 
 those sainted priests tramped that broad high- 
 way. 
 
 Inspired by these thoughts Barrington strode 
 along toward Santa Barbara. Just outside of the 
 town a sudden turn in the road brought him in 
 full view of a man and woman. Both were Span- 
 iards. The woman was refined in appearance, 
 astonishingly pretty and apparently in the early 
 twenties. The man bore the ear-marks of an 
 aristocrat, yet he was of a distinctly disagreeable 
 type. Unlike most of his race, he was tall, and, 
 though unusually handsome, his face showed the 
 weakness of self-indulgence and deep lines of dis- 
 sipation. Furthermore, it was now convulsed 
 with anger. 
 
 The couple had evidently just left their horses, 
 for the woman wore the California riding dress 
 with its divided skirt, while the costume of the man 
 was accentuated to picturesqueness by the sombrero 
 and high-top boots. They were too absorbed in 
 their quarrel to notice Barrington's approach. 
 The man was older than his companion. Barring- 
 ton judged him to be about thirty-five. The 
 woman was talking rapidly in her native tongue, 
 which Barrington understood perfectly. She was 
 
 [14] 
 
 I 
 
Cleniencfa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 reproaching her companion, and it evidently an- 
 gered him greatly, for suddenly he seized her by 
 the shoulders and shook her. 
 
 To the officer's astonishment the girl showed 
 no resentment. She did not even struggle. But 
 her submissiveness instead of softening apparently 
 only angered him all the more. He raised his 
 whip and undoubtedly would have struck her had 
 not Harrington, unable to contain his indignation 
 longer, sprung forward. 
 
 At the sight of him the astonished Spaniard 
 dropped the girl's arm and exclaimed in fury: 
 
 " Where in the devil's name did you come 
 from?" 
 
 Ignoring his question and making no effort to 
 veil his contempt Barrington asked: 
 
 " What kind of man are you to strike a 
 woman? " 
 
 " Must I account to you, sir? " replied the Span- 
 iard haughtily. '' I may do as I like. The woman 
 is mine." 
 
 " But humanity Is the world's," came the quick 
 retort, " and real men do not strike their wives." 
 
 The Spaniard's angry flush heightened as the 
 two men faced each other. 
 
 [15] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " And pray, sir, who are you that you should 
 dictate the proper treatment of wives? " 
 
 " Only a man," answered the other. 
 
 The girl had drawn off a little to one side and 
 was quietly weeping. She showed no interest 
 whatever in the altercation. 
 
 " Well," continued the Spaniard, advancing a 
 step nearer, " and what will humanity and your 
 damned impertinence choose to do now as against 
 my property, sir? " 
 
 His insolence and the sneer which accompanied 
 it was too much of a strain upon the American's 
 patience. Barrington suddenly sprang forward, 
 and when a few minutes later, scowling and curs- 
 ing with anger, the Spaniard picked himself up 
 with a blackened eye and a sprained wrist, he was 
 doubtless convinced that it was a mistake to fight 
 a man without first wisely judging his strength 
 and skill. 
 
 Barrington felt considerably better. He had 
 not enjoyed bandying words with the man. 
 
 " I shall be here for some time," he volun- 
 teered, *' and can be found at the mission. I shall 
 be glad at any time to discuss the law with you 
 again, on the same terms." 
 [i6] 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN hour or so later Barrington sat in the recep- 
 L. tlon hall of the mission awaiting the Supe- 
 rior. The door opened softly and a monk entered 
 in silence, who folded his two hands over the one 
 which the young officer proffered as though he was 
 too much moved to speak. The padre was above 
 the average height, but his figure looked even 
 taller because he was very thin. The thick folds 
 of his brown woolen habit fell together as though 
 they covered a shadow. He wore a broad leather 
 girdle and from his side hung a rosary of wooden 
 beads ending in a cross cut of ivory. His face 
 and figure might have belonged to a hermit of 
 Egypt, but he bore the unmistakable mark of his 
 country. Skin, hair, and eyes showed him to be 
 a Spaniard. His features were regular and pleas- 
 ing. 
 
 '' What a handsome man Padre Galvez must 
 have been in his youth," thought Barrington. 
 
 The old priest's dark eyes, bright and piercing, 
 
 [17] 
 
softened wonderfully as he looked at the young 
 man before him and a gentle smile illumined his 
 face when he said in a voice of fullness and sweet- 
 ness: 
 
 "You are astonishingly like your mother — 
 like her as I knew her in her youth. She must be 
 gray-haired now, but she will always be beautiful," 
 he finished gently, " for her soul was beautiful." 
 
 At the priest's words one of his rare smiles 
 broke over the young officer's face. 
 
 *' My mother, sir, is, as you say, very beautiful 
 still." 
 
 They were standing, the elder man still holding 
 the hand of the younger one. For a moment 
 Padre Galvez's thoughts were back to the past and 
 he had a vision of the young Irish girl as he had 
 seen her once in the rosy freshness of her twenty 
 years. But he returned instantly to the present. 
 He realized that her son was there before him 
 and was perhaps thinking him wanting in hospital- 
 ity. He therefore courteously bade him to sup- 
 per, after which they talked long and earnestly of 
 the matters concerned with Barrlngton's mission, 
 and the padre asked many questions pertaining to 
 worldly matters. 
 
 [i8] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cti0f$ 
 
 Man of the world that he was, Barrington 
 wondered more than once how a solitary priest, 
 living among inscriptions and carvings, had gath- 
 ered so great a knowledge of current events. He 
 would not have thought it possible. 
 
 When the officer rose to leave he had a strong 
 desire to question the padre concerning the clois- 
 tered nuns near by and to tell him of his experi- 
 ence with the novice that afternoon. But it seemed 
 like spying further upon the unfortunate woman 
 and so he held his peace. He felt, however, that 
 there was one question which he must ask this 
 learned man. 
 
 " Padre," he ventured, " have you in your faith 
 only condemnation for the psychic? " 
 
 " My son, why should the faith condemn? " 
 
 ^' But could you as a priest accept something 
 not clearly explained? Would it not be wrong? " 
 
 " Not always. Circumstances would have much 
 weight; but your question is a little vague." 
 
 The young man reddened. He dared not be 
 more explicit. 
 
 " If you were absolutely convinced of some- 
 thing which reason told you was impossible, padre, 
 would you still believe? " 
 
 [19] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i$ 
 
 " The mysteries of the world are many," the 
 priest responded. " Wiser heads than ours have 
 puzzled over them." 
 
 There came to Harrington the thought of an 
 episode in his memorable campaign with Dewey 
 which was fraught with mystery at the time, but 
 which later had made him more or less a firm 
 believer in the occult. 
 
 " May I tell you of my first experience with 
 the psychic? " he asked. 
 
 The priest nodded acquiescence. 
 
 " On the morning that the Olympia stole 
 through the gray mist into the waters of Manila 
 Bay I was stationed aft on the lower deck, while 
 our famous commander and his immediate subor- 
 dinates occupied the bridge." 
 
 The young man flushed as he observed a tight- 
 ening of the lips of the man to whom he was 
 speaking. He felt instantly the inappropriateness 
 of the subject before such a Hstener, for while 
 Padre Galvez was a man of big mental caliber, 
 the thought of that memorable morning in which 
 his nation's ships had been humbled in a most 
 incredibly brief affray could not but affect him 
 now. The priest saw the young man's embar- 
 
 [20] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cri$i0 
 
 rassment and with kindness of heart came speedily 
 to his rescue. 
 
 " Go on, my boy; we cannot quarrel with his- 
 tory. You started to tell me something about the 
 day of which you were justly proud and of which 
 we have no reason to be ashamed. Go on." 
 
 *' I felt rather than heard a voice," continued 
 Barrington. " It was insistent, and in what was 
 probably not more than the passing of a few sec- 
 onds it seemed to repeat its command a dozen 
 times. Involuntarily I heeded it without attempt- 
 ing to define it. I stepped a pace to the right and 
 as I did so a ball from one of the Spanish ships 
 tore into and pierced the main hatchway behind 
 which I had stood. 
 
 " The miraculous escape did not impress me 
 greatly at the time. I attributed it to luck." 
 
 The young officer leaned forward and his ordi- 
 narily cold eyes sparkled as he went on. 
 
 '' The real significance of the incident, padre, 
 came home to me after my return to America. My 
 mother and I were in the library of our New York 
 home. It was late at night, for I had been nar- 
 rating to her at length the history of the pro- 
 digious day that made our admiral famous. Of a 
 
 [21] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cr{0f0 
 
 sudden she arose, and, walking to my side, put her 
 arms around me. ' My boy,' she said, ' you don't 
 know what a joy It is for me to see you safely here 
 by my side. I always worry about you when you 
 are gone, of course. But this last time I was more 
 uneasy than ever before. Do you know, Arslan, 
 that in the very hour, perhaps the very moment, 
 when you were in the thick of that engagement on 
 the Olympia I seemed to receive some telepathic 
 message that you were in imminent danger. I was 
 agonized and in my excitement cried aloud, 
 " Move, Arslan, move! " I wonder if you heard 
 me — if a kind Providence made you hear me? ' 
 
 " You can imagine, padre, my feelings when 
 the thought of that strange warning I had received 
 on the battleship was recalled by my mother's 
 words. I am now a firm believer in mental telep- 
 athy. Can you blame me? " 
 
 " No," answered Padre Galvez kindly. " The 
 ways of Providence are impenetrable. And now 
 — now in a different way you are experiencing 
 another mystery? " 
 
 Again the young man's face flushed, but he did 
 not reply. Perhaps this new psychic feeling could 
 be explained the same way. 
 
 [22] 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BARRINGTON was thoughtful as he bade 
 the padre good night. Later in his room he 
 found himself depressed. Yet he was on the 
 alert as though bracing himself to meet some great 
 pressure. 
 
 He was not an emotional man, and he had lived 
 a rational and rather quiet life. He was a book 
 lover and a fisherman, two occupations conducive 
 to an easy conscience, for a life in the open air is 
 really a university course for the soul. Even at this 
 moment of highest nerve tension he was saying to 
 himself with a clear, normal brain: "This can 
 all be explained. Some day the theories of Mes- 
 mer and Charcot will seem simple and the miracles 
 they performed will be explained." 
 
 It had been but a moment that he had held the 
 woman's hands, but the knowledge of her call had 
 come to him instantaneously. His own soul had 
 answered affirmatively as it thrilled in the grip of 
 her appeal. 
 
 [23] 
 

 i 
 
 li^ 
 
 Barrington bade the padre good night 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 The mere remembrance of it filled his mind and 
 a dozen times he tried to force his thoughts into 
 other channels, but try as he would he was unsuc- 
 cessful. Over and over again he asked himself: 
 
 *' Can I believe? Can any sane man believe? " 
 
 Suddenly he heard a voice say: 
 
 " Open your eyes and believe." 
 
 It seemed to Harrington that he had made a 
 great effort to obey and that when he opened his 
 eyes he was in a strange room, evidently a library, 
 for he saw bookcases and a writing table. 
 Through the open windows he could see the blue 
 waves of the ocean and the scent of heliotrope 
 with the perfume of other flowers came to him. 
 The voice which had bidden him open his eyes 
 spoke again. It was a musical, woman's voice. 
 
 " Do not struggle to see anyone but me," it 
 said. " It is not necessary that you should see 
 anyone else yet. But please look at me. I am 
 waiting." 
 
 He turned in the direction of the voice and saw 
 a young woman. She was tall, with dark glowing 
 eyes and golden hair. Save for the fact, however, 
 that the color of her hair was unusual she was of 
 the strictly Spanish type. 
 
 [25] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cri0i0 
 
 He gazed upon her without speaking, startled 
 by her beauty, it is true, but even more startled 
 by the troubled look in her eyes. In them was a 
 piteous appeal which touched him profoundly. 
 Her voice, though low, was very distinct and she 
 was speaking directly to him. 
 
 " I am very unhappy," she said. " Will you 
 help me? " 
 
 " I will do all that I can," he replied impulsive- 
 ly, surprised at his own earnestness. 
 
 " But if you really mean to help me you must 
 fight." 
 
 " I am not a coward, Senorita. Believe me, I 
 will fight for you with all my soul." 
 
 It seemed to him a little strange that they 
 should be speaking Spanish. 
 
 She smiled, showing milk-white teeth, but as 
 he leaned forward to take her hand she moved 
 back a step. 
 
 " Not yet," she said. " There is plenty of time 
 to meet me in the flesh. I wanted only to be sure 
 that you would help me and so I came in spirit." 
 
 She kept moving farther and farther away as 
 she spoke. Fearing lest she should leave the 
 room, he said eagerly: 
 
 [26] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 " But tell me, how can I help you? I do not 
 know what trouble you are in. I do not even know 
 your name! " 
 
 " Alas! " she said sadly, her hand on the door, 
 '' that you must find out for yourself. I have no 
 power to say more. Good-bye." 
 
 He sprang forward, but in an instant the woman 
 disappeared and he found himself sitting up in 
 his chair holding tightly to a spray of heliotrope 
 which he had pulled from a vase standing on the 
 table by his side. 
 
 It was still a long time till dawn. He was 
 healthy, young, and tired. So darkening the room 
 he went to bed and was soon asleep. 
 
 [27] 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE next afternoon, when Lieutenant Bar- 
 rington met Padre Galvez at the appointed 
 hour, the priest greeted him warmly. 
 
 " The Senora Castellanos has consented to en- 
 tertain the fleet when it arrives in Santa Barbara," 
 he said. " Manuel Sanchez has just brought me 
 the message. He is her cousin and the manager 
 of her estate. His influence is great with her. 
 
 " With the senora's consent I am satisfied the 
 welcome of the few Spanish people here will be 
 no small part of the great preparations." 
 
 " I arn glad," responded Barrington, " because 
 although the Spaniards are few In number the 
 President especially desired them to be prominent 
 in the festivities." 
 
 " I am glad, too, my son, glad also that many 
 weeks must yet elapse before the arrival of the 
 fleet. It will give me time to become acquainted 
 with you after all these years of separation from 
 your parents. But I must not be selfish. Your 
 
 [28] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 letters to our leading people here must not be for- 
 gotten. While you present the one to Mr. Grigsby 
 Helton this afternoon I will make arrangements 
 to call with you another day upon Senora Castel- 
 lanos.*' 
 
 " Padre," said the young man, " tell me some- 
 thing of the ranch life. What is its attraction for 
 people of culture? " 
 
 " That is easily seen, my son. Take these beau- 
 tiful homes, almost in the mountains and yet in 
 sight of the Pacific, fill them with people of wealth 
 and refinement and there you have the basis of 
 California ranch life." 
 
 " Whose is the white palace on the summit of 
 the hill?" 
 
 *' It is occupied by a beautiful woman in the 
 English Court set. But it is no more popular than 
 the small one hidden a few miles distant, the home 
 of the widow of a famed writer." 
 
 " Intellectuality should govern wherever it 
 rests, of course, but how seldom it does," said 
 Harrington, musingly. 
 
 '' My son, do not judge all the representatives 
 of prosperity by the disgusting vulgarity of some." 
 
 " I assure you, padre, that I have no desire to 
 
 [29] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cti0i0 
 
 disparage them," the officer answered, " but you 
 must admit that our wealthiest Americans are not 
 always those of whom we are most proud." 
 
 " Ah," eagerly interposed the priest, " admit- 
 ting this, there are still many whose power has 
 been given by money whose lives are simple and 
 wholesome — many who, though not blind to the 
 advantages of wealth, take them like sane, healthy 
 mortals. For such as these surely our country has 
 only a feeling of pride." 
 
 " And are your Santa Barbarans sane mortals, 
 such as you describe? " laughed the young man. 
 
 " Many of them are, indeed. Santa Barbara 
 claims its life of pleasure, and perpetual self- 
 indulgence is bound to lower our moral standard 
 and weaken the race, of course. But there are 
 noble types of men and women here." 
 
 And later Barrington thought the Grigsby Hel- 
 tons should be included in the best type of Santa 
 Barbarans. Mr. Helton was president of one of 
 the greatest railroads in the West, a mighty artery 
 connecting the two oceans. He was only forty, 
 but already his splendid executive ability had 
 tended considerably toward his road's success. 
 
 It was in this railroad magnate's beautiful Santa 
 
 [30] 
 
Clemenna'0 Crisis 
 
 Barbara home that Barrington made his entree to 
 California society. Mrs. Helton was twenty- 
 eight, in the flush of youth and very popular. It 
 was natural, therefore, that their house should 
 be a social center. 
 
 [31] 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TWO days later at four In the afternoon 
 Lieutenant Harrington in response to an 
 Invitation called upon Mrs. Helton. He found 
 her a charming woman, and when they had spent 
 a few minutes in conversation she arose saying: 
 
 '' I must not be utterly selfish, Lieutenant Bar- 
 rlngton. I have other guests who desire to meet 
 you. We will go to the library, where tea will 
 be served." 
 
 They crossed a spacious hall filled with won- 
 derful potted plants and entered the library. 
 
 It was well that Mrs. Helton was leading, else 
 she might have been surprised at the young offi- 
 cer's face. When they entered the room he paled 
 visibly. It took all his self-control to prevent his 
 exclaiming aloud. 
 
 The room he had entered was the room of his 
 dream! 
 
 The bookcases, table, and chairs were just as 
 he had observed therp In his vision. The sun 
 
 [32] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 streaming through the open window, the blue 
 ocean in the distance, the strong scent of the 
 delicious heliotrope — all were exactly as he had 
 known them. 
 
 He pulled himself together only by a powerful 
 effort. He felt that he must control his facial 
 expression, that he must not betray his emotions. 
 He was as certain, though, that he would see the 
 girl of his dream as he was that he was following 
 Mrs. Helton and the thought actually made him 
 afraid to lift his eyes. 
 
 Then Barrington was conscious that Mrs. Hel- 
 ton was introducing him, that some young ladies 
 bowed and addressed him cordially and that he 
 murmured some greetings in reply. Finally he 
 gained sufficient courage to look about him. He 
 noticed that none of the young women to whom 
 he had been presented bore any resemblance what- 
 ever to his dream maiden and this fact gave him 
 time to collect himself. Feeling less nervous he 
 boldly scanned the room. 
 
 And then he saw her. 
 
 He never quite forgot the thrill of that moment. 
 Indeed, it seemed to him that he never afterward 
 forgot the slightest thing in connection with her. 
 
 [33] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 She was standing In a group of young people 
 and was easily distinguishable from the rest. It 
 may have been the peculiar combination of dark 
 eyes and light hair. It may have been the unusual 
 haughtiness of her carriage. It may have been 
 her beautiful face. But whatever It was he knew 
 from the first glance that the Spanish girl had 
 come into his life now and forever. 
 
 Following his glance his hostess said warmly: 
 
 " That Is Clemencia Castellanos, my best 
 friend. I shall take great pleasure In presenting 
 you. But let me warn you In advance. She Is a 
 veritable enchantress and you must not succumb 
 to her charms." 
 
 He laughed pleasantly, but did not reply. His 
 hostess lowered her voice and whispered: 
 
 " Really, I am In earnest, Lieutenant Barring- 
 ton. It would be hopeless, you know, for she Is 
 already promised." 
 
 Somewhat at a loss as to what to say In reply 
 to this strange confidence Barrlngton answered 
 lightly : 
 
 " She is young. She cannot have been prom- 
 ised very long." 
 
 " She was promised In childhood." 
 
 [34] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0is; 
 
 *' Forbidden fruit," he jested, " is always the 
 choicest. Then, too, I have heard of broken 
 promises." 
 
 *' True. But your arts would be useless here. 
 Her smiles would never be for you. She is bound 
 as securely as though a chain of our glittering 
 Sierras held her hidden in their midst." 
 
 " Are the Spaniards so tenacious of their 
 promises? " 
 
 " This one would die before she would break 
 hers." 
 
 " But, Madame," he protested, '' you are mak- 
 ing me curious about your beautiful Spanish siren. 
 In fact, I am so interested that I cannot promise 
 not to enter the lists as a valiant suitor for her 
 smiles." 
 
 " Then your fate be on your head," she 
 laughed. 
 
 Suddenly, however, her face grew grave and 
 she added: 
 
 " If I thought you were serious I would not 
 present you. The girl is beautiful as an angel, 
 but she is really promised. Her word will never 
 be retracted. Never. Never '^ 
 
 For a moment he felt quite thrilled by the 
 
 [35] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 solemnity of her words, but recovering his poise 
 he murmured under his breath: 
 
 '' Lucky the man who has won such devotion." 
 Then aloud: ''Lead on, I am ready to face 
 your enchantress I " 
 
 ^ W 
 
 [36I 
 
^11111 ri^^^ffi'iftp 
 
 uu 
 
 CHAPTER Vin 
 
 AND so Arslan Barrington stood before the 
 . beautiful girl of his dream, finding her even 
 more entrancing in life. Her lips and skin were 
 luminous. Her figure was superb. She bore her- 
 self with an indescribable stateliness which was 
 charming in one so young. 
 
 Mrs. Helton left them alone after she had 
 presented the young officer and for a moment 
 neither spoke. Then Barrington, bowing cere- 
 moniously, said: 
 
 *' Senorita, may I have the pleasure of drinking 
 tea with you? " 
 
 [37] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Certainly, Lieutenant Barrington. Are you 
 not the guest of honor? " 
 
 He smiled down on her. She had promptly 
 dealt his vanity a blow. But he answered lightly: 
 
 " Would you Imply, then, that politeness alone 
 Impels you to accept my invitation?" 
 
 " Would you have me acknowledge more on a 
 moment's acquaintance? " came the quick retort. 
 
 " Senorlta, I throw myself upon your mercy. 
 I refuse to enter into a combat of words with one 
 so eminently skilled in their use." 
 
 " You seem quite able to defend yourself," she 
 laughed. 
 
 " But why should you assure ,me that you are 
 not free to refuse my request? " he jested. 
 
 " Why should I flatter you by saying anything 
 else?" 
 
 " Senorlta Castellanos, again I sue for mercy. 
 Should we fight now I feel sure that I would go 
 down In defeat. Therefore I shall bring your tea 
 at once." 
 
 She laughed heartily. "An officer!" she 
 mocked, *' and so lacking In courage 1 " 
 
 *' I shall hope to regain mine over the tea cups," 
 he said. 
 
 [38] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cri0f0 
 
 All the time they had been talking, although 
 they had both spoken lightly, there had been a 
 subtle something in the girl's manner which 
 savored of embarrassment. 
 
 But at his last words she laughed again and 
 seemed to lose the indefinable something. There- 
 after she appeared more natural. She motioned 
 to a corner of the room, saying: 
 
 ** I shall wait for you there. Lemon and one 
 lump of sugar, please." 
 
 " Miss Castellanos," he said, approaching and 
 handing her the cup, " I am to call at your home 
 tomorrow and meet your grandmother. I con- 
 sider it a great honor that she has consented to 
 receive me." 
 
 To his astonishment a most peculiar expression 
 crossed her face — one which he could not ana- 
 lyze. Had he said something to displease her? 
 And if so, what was it? 
 
 *' Yes," she replied. *' I was surprised to learn 
 that she had consented to entertain the fleet at 
 your request." 
 
 " You do me too much honor, Senorita. The 
 request comes from the President of the United 
 States. I am only the humble bearer of it. May 
 
 [39] 
 
Clemenda'0 Crisis 
 
 I venture to hope, however, that your grand- 
 mother's consent is not unpleasant to you?" 
 
 " And if it were," she broke in hastily, '' it 
 would make no difference. Senor Sanches con- 
 trols my grandmother in all worldly matters." 
 
 Harrington was decidedly taken aback. The 
 conversation had suddenly become awkward. If 
 he were to make headway at all with Miss Castel- 
 lanos he must change the subject. 
 
 " Senorita," he said abruptly, " I lit a candle 
 in the Mission today and made a wish for the 
 greatest desire of my heart." 
 
 She was looking at him with amiable curiosity. 
 
 *' The greatest desire of your heart?" she 
 echoed. " You must want it very much." 
 
 " I do," he replied. " Do you think I shall 
 get it?" 
 
 In some way his earnestness seemed to impress 
 her. She flushed a bit under his look. 
 
 *' Did you ask something impossible? " 
 
 " I asked for a miracle," he replied. 
 
 " A miracle! In these days? " she scoffed. 
 
 " Why not? " he asked coolly. 
 
 " And you think you will get it? " she parried, 
 ignoring his question. 
 
 [40] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis 
 
 " When I lit the candle I confess I did not. I 
 was very skeptical. But that hour has passed 
 now." 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 " Because part of the miracle has already come 
 true," he said in a low voice. 
 
 Again his manner stirred her. She moved un- 
 easily under his gaze. 
 
 " Already come true? What can you possibly 
 mean? " 
 
 He bent his head lower, compelling her to 
 return his powerful gaze. 
 
 " Yes. This afternoon a part of the miracle 
 has come true. Do you believe in mental telep- 
 athy? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 Before she could lower her eyes he saw a flash 
 of terror creep into them. She shivered a little. 
 Then she replied: 
 
 " How tragic, Lieutenant Barrington. For a 
 moment your question startled me. But I have 
 no faith In mental telepathy at all," she answered 
 decisively. " And if you had that thought in mind 
 when you entered the mission, I fear that you have 
 wasted a candle." 
 
 " That remains to be seen," he replied serenely, 
 
 [41] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cri0{0 
 
 studying meanwhile her stubborn eyelashes. " Re- 
 member I told you that part of the miracle had 
 already come true." 
 
 She handed him her empty cup and arose, say- 
 ing in the coolest of voices: 
 
 " How interesting ! Perhaps some time you 
 will tell me more of the miracle. Just now I feel 
 that I must not keep you longer. Besides, I must 
 be going." 
 
 He saw her perturbation and was triumphant. 
 " She is afraid," he said to himself, " and she 
 understands; just how much I am not sure, but 
 she understands." 
 
 Aloud he continued: " May I hope to see you 
 tomorrow, Senorita, when I call? " 
 
 Her natural poise had returned. She nodded 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " If you really care to. Lieutenant Harrington, 
 most likely you may. But if you stay long in Santa 
 Barbara you will find that in an interview between 
 my grandmother and Padre Galvez I am of small 
 importance." 
 
 [42] 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE next afternoon Padre Galvez guided 
 Lieutenant Barrington to the home of 
 Senora Castellanos. Most of the estate lay along 
 a rolling upland, above Santa Barbara. Back of 
 it were the mountains and stretching between them 
 lay the valley filled with trees. Gliding over the 
 broad acres was a silver stream. The house itself 
 stood on a little knoll. Its thick walls, its small 
 windows and its long porches were characteristic 
 of Spanish-American architecture. 
 
 As the young officer entered the house he was 
 impressed by the elegance and beauty of the 
 interior. He and the priest were ushered into a 
 room eighty feet long and nearly forty feet wide. 
 It was filled with rare old Spanish tapestries, em- 
 broideries, and carved furniture. The brocade, 
 mellowed by age, had a softness of tint which 
 toned in with the luminous glow and polish of the 
 old furniture. Gold and amber were the prevail- 
 ing shades, although here and there a cabinet 
 
 [43] 
 
fiim 
 
 n.e. 
 
 
 "Wis 
 
 «}:^V 
 
 
 f ■ 
 
 W' pis 
 
 ►-=^=>TrtiJi' 
 
 
 
 
 r 
 
 '■■■1 
 
 
 
 cY'i 
 
 The home of Senora Castellanos 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cti0i0 
 
 sparkled with rare treasures gleaming like the rays 
 of a fire opal. Oil paintings decorated the walls 
 and stately men and women looked down from the 
 gilded frames. 
 
 After a few minutes had passed a tall, digni- 
 fied woman of perhaps sixty-five entered. Her 
 white hair was parted in the middle and drawn 
 back from her face. Her blue eyes were unusu- 
 ally bright and penetrating, and her handsome, 
 though rather stern countenance evidenced re- 
 markable strength of character. 
 
 The Senora Castellanos was accounted the 
 richest woman in California. Her wealth accu- 
 mulated amazingly, but with it all she was not 
 contented. She belonged to a race that boasts, at 
 least, the strongest individuality on earth. She 
 was of the pure Castilian blood, and was enough 
 of the patrician to resent the race amalgamation 
 that was going on in Lower California. Protected 
 as she was by the vastness of her own estate, she 
 appeared deaf and dumb to the encroachments of 
 the Americans, but secretly she opposed them bit- 
 terly. If it had been in her power she would have 
 swept back with the broom of racial pride the 
 advancing wave of progress which makes for the 
 
 [45] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0f0 
 
 betterment of the world. But lacking this might 
 the senora took refuge in disdain and a con- 
 comitant seclusion. 
 
 She was a devout Catholic and there was a cer- 
 tain amount of coming and going necessitated by 
 Christianity, of course. But when mass was over, 
 her splendid grounds protected her from intrusion 
 and her closed doors enforced the strictest privacy. 
 Although she lived almost in the shadow of the 
 mission her spirit was not softened. She would 
 never mingle with the race she ignored and hated. 
 
 She greeted her guest, however, as cordially as 
 her cold, stern nature would permit. 
 
 " I am glad to welcome you," she said, " al- 
 though I am sorry to tell you that Senor Sanchez 
 was called away this morning and cannot be with 
 us. In fact, his business is likely to detain him 
 several weeks in San Francisco." 
 
 " When I read the papers this morning I feared 
 he would not be able to join us," the padre re- 
 sponded. 
 
 The senora inclined her head gravely. " He 
 left at once," she murmured; then turning to Bar- 
 rington she continued: "Our business interests 
 throughout the state are sufficiently large to cause 
 
 [46] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Crisis 
 
 us great uneasiness over the tremendous conspira- 
 cies being uncovered In some of our large cities." 
 
 Barrlngton was aware, of course, that a big city 
 in California was in the throes of reform. The 
 gigantic swindle in which some of her able and 
 most distinguished men were involved was being 
 exposed. The papers teemed daily with thrilling 
 accounts of the wickedness which gradually was 
 being uncovered. 
 
 One of the results traced to it was a bad rail- 
 road strike which affected properties in which the 
 Senora Castellanos was vitally interested. It was 
 eventually proved that the strike was Instigated 
 by leaders of the great steal. But, though mem- 
 bers of the gang were arrested and tried, the 
 " man higher up " always evaded justice. 
 
 At this particular time the leaders of a dis- 
 astrous strike that tied up railroad construction 
 work in the foothills of the Sierras were being 
 tried for a crime they had not committed, namely, 
 throwing chains across live trolley wires. In this 
 short-circuiting of the wires a great deal of dam- 
 age was caused to the power-houses, and many of 
 the engineers and electricians would have been 
 killed but for timely warnings from some mys- 
 
 [47] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri$i0 
 
 terious source. The men themselves were always 
 cautioned about the danger In time to escape. 
 
 It was to these events that the senora referred 
 and when she had voiced her regret that Sanchez 
 could not join them Harrington said: 
 
 " It was doubly kind of you to receive me, 
 Senora Castellanos. I believe you usually em- 
 power Senor Sanchez to complete all business 
 arrangements." 
 
 " That is true," she answered coldly, " yet I 
 am quite Interested In this particular entertain- 
 ment. It will be the first time In years that I have 
 entered Into the world." 
 
 After nearly an hour's conversation on matters 
 connected with the coming fete the senora arose. 
 
 '' Gentlemen," she said, '* the arrangements so 
 far seem satisfactory and we will now join my 
 granddaughter at tea In the patio/' 
 
 I 
 
 [48] 
 

 
 ti^-l^^^ VO ^ 
 
 
 
 ib 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE patio brimmed with flowers. Roses of 
 every shade from languid white to livid 
 pink were scattered everywhere. Sharp scented 
 jonquils bound by pale green sheaths sprang up 
 beside vivid yellow mountain popples. Across the 
 corner of the pergola a huge Bougainvillea 
 climbed beside a Lady Banksi and nearby, under 
 an arch of splendid color and fragrance made by 
 the rose of Ophlr, sat Senorlta Castellanos. 
 
 *' How well she becomes the garden!" was 
 Harrington's first thought. 
 
 His eyes must have expressed his admiration, 
 for she colored as she welcomed him. 
 
 [49] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis; 
 
 Senora Castellanos and the priest withdrew to 
 one side talking so earnestly that they scarcely 
 touched the tea which a soft-footed Spanish boy 
 was serving. In a few minutes more they had 
 moved out of sight In the garden. 
 
 The young people sipped their tea more slowly 
 and presently the girl said: 
 
 " Do look at the range, Lieutenant Harrington. 
 Is it not beautiful, lying veiled in the blue shadows 
 of the afternoon? The loftier peaks with their 
 touches of snow make the images even stronger." 
 
 " I can scarcely believe that they are the same 
 mountains that I crossed only a few days ago," 
 he answered. *' Their rugged sides are concealed. 
 The streams which glide down the gorges can only 
 be guessed at and those white clouds droop like 
 tassels above them." 
 
 '^ I love the range at this time of day," Clemen- 
 da continued. " It is always so mysterious. I 
 am glad you appreciate it, too," she smiled. 
 
 He tried to keep his eyes on the mountains as 
 she had bidden him, but her aureole of hair like 
 some faint yellow flame framing her face In golden 
 light was distracting and far more attractive, he 
 thought. 
 
 [50] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 The low tones of her voice, her deep brown 
 eyes, and the mystery which he felt somehow en- 
 veloped her, all combined to stir the man in him. 
 She was perilously sweet. The very place itself 
 seemed enchanted. Below them the town hung 
 like a scintillating jewel with shafts of light danc- 
 ing over it. Beyond it the cobalt blue of the ocean 
 melted into greens and purples, and further out 
 the wings of a ship stretched white and gleaming. 
 
 " Miss Castellanos," he said at last, " Cali- 
 fornia is a revelation to me in its beauty." 
 
 She smiled approval and he continued. " In 
 this sunshine the columned arches and the yellow 
 walls of your home glow like the pages of old 
 missals. Why do your Spanish houses have that 
 delightful air of age? American homes never 
 do." 
 
 " Our homes do possess a by-gone quaintness," 
 she admitted. 
 
 " Like your people, your homes will always 
 puzzle Americans, I fear." 
 
 " Are we so mysterious, then? " 
 
 He looked at her intently. He was straight- 
 forward and sincere and he felt he would like to 
 open his heart to her — tell her of his remarkable 
 
 [SI] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis? 
 
 dream and of the conviction that she had partly 
 understood when he had spoken to her of miracles. 
 But he did not dare. He had met her only twice, 
 and — If he should be mistaken — if she had no 
 inkling at all of his telepathic feeling — 
 
 He had heard of cases in which two persons 
 knew exactly the same thing at the same moment 
 when there had been no communication between 
 them, but they had been those who had been inti- 
 mately associated, husbands and wives, or sweet- 
 hearts. That such should be the case between 
 persons who had never seen each other seemed 
 almost Incredible. No. He would not risk telling 
 her until he knew her better. He could wait. 
 
 " Lieutenant Harrington, do you know that you 
 are staring at me and that you have not answered 
 my question? " Clemencia Interposed. 
 
 Confused at being caught dreaming he replied 
 Impulsively : 
 
 " A thousand pardons, Senorita. I was sur- 
 prised that you of all persons should ask me that 
 question." 
 
 She turned white and again he caught that 
 frightened look which had so puzzled him before. 
 Then she said hastily: 
 
 [S2] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Why should I not ask the question, Lieutenant 
 Barrington? " 
 
 It was his turn to be confused. He was not 
 prepared to speak freely, but although he had been 
 impulsive he could not take back what he said 
 without allowing her to think him either rude or 
 untruthful. So bending his eyes earnestly upon 
 her he replied seriously: 
 
 " Senorita, I spoke impulsively, thoughtlessly. 
 But since you insist — yes, I had a reason. It 
 relates to the miracle I prayed for at the mission, 
 one which I hoped you might guess. Let me cry 
 your mercy and explain to you some other day." 
 
 She turned hastily away without replying, but 
 recovering her self-possession quickly, said: 
 
 " Come, then. Let us walk through the gar- 
 den and find Padre Galvez and my grandmother. 
 The chill which blows from the Pacific every after- 
 noon as the sun lowers is here. Do you feel it? " 
 
 [S3] 
 

 CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN the garden Clemencia recovered her self- 
 possession completely and told Lieutenant 
 Harrington much of the daily routine of ranch life 
 in California. 
 
 Rows of camphor trees hedged in Senora Cas- 
 tellanos' fences, making her sequestration perfect. 
 Acre after acre stretched away in beautiful seclu- 
 sion. Below the knoll the railroad threaded the 
 valley and carried its cramped passengers out into 
 the great world. But here in the afternoon sun- 
 shine, under the shade of the huge pepper trees, 
 their scarlet berries glinting like drops of blood 
 against a blue sky, Harrington saw only content. 
 
 [54] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 As they joined the priest and the mistress of 
 the ranch, the priest lifted his shovel-shaped hat, 
 bidding the senora adieu; he then turned to Cle- 
 mencia. 
 
 " My child," he said, " you did not wait to see 
 me after mass this morning." 
 
 " But I shall tomorrow. Padre Mia," she an- 
 swered affectionately. 
 
 " Ah ! That is better. I believe I always begin 
 the day better after talking with you," he said, still 
 holding her hand. 
 
 " Padre, you spoil Clemencia," gravely chided 
 the older woman. 
 
 " But it hasn't hurt her much — eh, Clemen- 
 cia? " rejoined the priest teasingly. 
 
 "And so you go to mass every morning?" 
 queried Barrington. 
 
 '' The Spanish woman always begins her day 
 so, sir," proudly answered the girl. 
 
 The young lieutenant promptly felt within him- 
 self an access of devotion and secretly determined 
 to attend mass oftener. 
 
 As the two men walked down the hill Barring- 
 ton could not refrain from asking a few questions 
 concerning the life of the senora and her grand- 
 
 [55] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 daughter. Padre Galvez shook his head sadly as 
 he answered: 
 
 '* It is a dull life for Clemencia. She has so 
 few friends." 
 
 " But surely she is attractive enough to have 
 many," commented the young man. 
 
 " True. But alas, my son, there never was a 
 woman who inherited more strongly the pride of 
 old Spain than Senora Castellanos. She hates all 
 Americans." 
 
 "Hates Americans!" exclaimed the officer. 
 "Why?" 
 
 " She has had reason for her hatred," sighed 
 the priest. " It was because of her daughter, 
 Natika, Clemencia's mother. Natika was charm- 
 ing, but she loved unhappily, and ran away with 
 the man she loved, an American. She was high- 
 spirited and proud and though she always loved 
 her husband their married life was not congenial. 
 Eventually she quarreled with him. 
 
 " The mother, grief stricken at her daughter's 
 elopement, bided her time, and when at last, de- 
 serted by her husband, Natika returned with little 
 Clemencia, the senora lavished every affection and 
 kindness on her beloved. But it was too late. The 
 
 [S6] 
 
CIemenna'$ Crisis 
 
 young wife pined for the man who had won her 
 heart and, although she had forced him to leave 
 her because of her violent temper, she could not 
 recover from the shock of the separation." 
 
 *' And she died then without ever seeing her 
 husband again? " Harrington asked softly. 
 
 " No. He returned the very night she died. 
 But the senora in a passion of fury denied him 
 entrance. I followed him, and knowing that his 
 repentance was sincere and that his love had never 
 changed, I took him quietly to his wife and they 
 were reconciled. She died in his arms." 
 
 For a moment the old priest was overcome by 
 the memory of that day. The tears were rolling 
 down his cheeks and he could not speak. Finally, 
 however, he found voice to add: " Maddened 
 with grief and remorse, two hours after his wife's 
 death the husband killed himself. Can you won- 
 der now at the senora's bitterness? " 
 
 Harrington could not offer a word. He was 
 appalled at the story. Padre Galvez after a mo- 
 ment's pause went on. 
 
 '* The senora's sorrow was awful to contem- 
 plate in its deadlike stillness. No tears would 
 come to soften her. For a time it seemed to her 
 
 [57] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 there was no God. But after a while her soul 
 came back to her church. Only the Innocent Cle- 
 mencla serves as a reminder of her tragic past." 
 " Then the young lady is not a Castellanos? " 
 *' She is now. The senora had her name 
 changed by law." 
 
 [58] 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 IT took all Barrington's will power to prevent 
 his attending mass next morning. But he 
 thought in view of the happenings of the pre- 
 vious day that it would be better to wait. Later 
 in the day he called upon Mrs. Helton. 
 
 Unless a young man is openly in love with a 
 young woman and prepared to admit it, it is little 
 less than marvelous to note the diplomacy and 
 elaborate strategy he will resort to to explain his 
 interest in her. Lieutenant Barrington, knowing 
 of Miss Castellanos' betrothal, was willing to ad- 
 mit a stronger interest than admiration and a 
 desire for her friendship during the two months 
 he was to spend in and about Santa Barbara. 
 
 The remarkable telepathic communication given 
 in the dream prior to his acquaintance with her 
 was sufficient excuse, he thought, for the keen 
 interest he was taking in her. He felt he had a 
 right to tell her of this dream. Indeed, he was 
 almost certain from things that had occurred 
 
 [59] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0{0 
 
 since his vision that he had a right to ask her for 
 the explanation he beheved she could give. 
 
 But he wanted to be assured that she did need 
 his assistance. Something troubled her, he was 
 certain. During both their two short talks he had 
 caught that unhappy look for a moment in her 
 eyes. So he said to himself, as he remembered 
 this, " She Is not happy. One can see it written 
 in her face." 
 
 He would get Mrs. Helton to speak of her 
 friendship with Miss Castellanos. In this way he 
 might learn something of the Spanish girl's per- 
 sonality, her moods, her likes and dislikes, her 
 favorite occupations. 
 
 " I would never have known Clemencia had it 
 not been for Padre Galvez," Mrs. Helton replied 
 to his question as to how the acquaintance began. 
 " And I love him because of her." 
 
 *' Tell me about it," he urged. 
 
 " I'll go back to the time I saw her first," said 
 Mrs. Helton. " She was Indolent and graceful, 
 and with her large brown eyes and sun-colored 
 hair she gave promise even then of the remarkable 
 beauty she possesses today." 
 
 " She is wonderfully attractive," he echoed. 
 
 [60] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Old beliefs, like fairy legends, linger long,'' 
 Mrs. Helton continued. " It Is hard to kill tradi- 
 tion. The Senora Castellanos wanted only Span- 
 ish associations for her granddaughter. But there 
 came at last a day of reckoning. Padre Galvez 
 called the mistress of the ranch to strict account, 
 and she was obliged to listen to his arguments." 
 
 '* How thrilling," smiled Barrlngton. " But 
 what in the world did he do? " 
 
 " He is wonderful and he did wonders. Only 
 an echo of what happened reached me, but It came 
 straight because Clemencia was present." 
 
 *'Ah!" 
 
 "In a tone of bitter hatred the senora said: 
 ' I scorn the Americans as individuals.' 
 
 *' ' But they are strong,' replied the padre. 
 ' You cannot Ignore them collectively.' 
 
 *' Then, seeing Clemencia, the senora sent her 
 from the room. The padre must have possessed 
 a strong weapon, though, for that night after sup- 
 per the grandmother sent for the girl. ' Clemen- 
 cia,' she said, ' I shall send you away to school.' 
 
 '' * To school! Where? ' asked the astonished 
 girl. 
 
 " * To the convent at Los Angeles.' 
 [6i] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis 
 
 " * But, grandmamma, I don't understand. I 
 shall meet American children. I am not sure that 
 I wish to go.' 
 
 " ' It Is not a question of your wishes,' said the 
 senora, sternly. ' You will be sent.' 
 
 *' ' But you have never allowed me even to 
 notice Americans as we drove through the streets 
 of Santa Barbara. Now you wish me to be with 
 them. I shall hate them,' came the girl's angry 
 response. 
 
 " The senora's eyes glittered a moment with a 
 strangely contented look. But she did not soften 
 as she continued coldly: 'You will not question 
 my will. You are to go the day after tomorrow.' 
 
 " Clemencla dared not say more to the stern 
 old woman who sat unbending In her stiff-backed 
 chair. But she never forgot that night In the 
 library. The flicker of the fire behind the spar^ 
 kling brass andirons glowed on the white walns- 
 cotted walls, tinging them with a deep yellow. 
 The candle light from the high sconces burned 
 high and brilliantly. The yellow damask pillows 
 on the sofa shone like suns until the child's eyes 
 seemed to feel they were gazing into a golden sea. 
 There is no embarrassment quite like that of lis- 
 
 [62] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 tenlng to one whom you must obey and yet fear to 
 question. Clemencla's mind was bewildered, she 
 told me. Coils of black smoke seemed to arise out 
 of the yellow sea of light to blind her. The 
 candles bleared, the fire dimmed. Almost choking 
 with despair she said faintly: 
 
 '' ' I do not wish to go among American stran- 
 gers,' but even while she voiced her objection the 
 superior will dominated." 
 
 " How old was she then? " asked Harrington. 
 
 ** About fourteen. I was nearly eighteen, but 
 we loved each other from the first." 
 
 [63] 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT was not until the third day after this that 
 Lieutenant Harrington joined Clemencia at 
 mass. After that it became a daily occurrence that 
 he should accompany her on her morning rides, 
 and when he saw her in close-fitting riding habit, 
 her small hat crowning her golden hair, coming 
 toward him in the early morning sunshine, he 
 always felt repaid for any loss of sleep this early 
 devotion entailed. 
 
 " Come," he said one morning, " let us pass 
 under the stately eucalyptus and pepper trees until 
 we come to that old Spanish house with the low 
 adobe one-story and tiled roof." 
 
 "The old De la Guerra house?" she asked. 
 " Do you love it, too? " 
 
 [64] 
 
In the Montecito Valley 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 " I know It is enchanted. Every one of its 
 fascinating legends fills me with awe," he laughed. 
 
 They set forth at a gallop. From the De la 
 Guerra place, crossing the town past the foreign 
 poplar trees, they rode into the Montecito Valley. 
 
 " Did you ever see such sun flowers, lilacs, and 
 morning glories? " she asked. 
 
 " Never," he answered, " and this is March." 
 
 *' Strangers never see our California," replied 
 Clemencia somewhat sadly. '' They come in 
 winter, and it is summer which is our loveliest 
 season. You should see the spikes of the snowy 
 yucca rising out of their sharp-pointed leaves then. 
 That is a sight not easily forgotten." 
 
 " There is a spell in this wonderful California, 
 Miss Castellanos — one I could never deny." 
 
 But he continued lightly, " If this witchery 
 which causes one to remember every trivial inci- 
 dent In this sunny clime is more enticing, more 
 developed in summer, perhaps it is just as well I 
 cannot remain." There was a lightness in his 
 speech but a certain intensity of tone that caused 
 the girl to color slightly. 
 
 *' Ah, even in your short stay you have felt 
 it, tool " 
 
 166-] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crf0i0 
 
 " I have felt It strongly — more than the ordi- 
 nary sojourner, I think, for already two wonderful 
 mysteries have come to me." 
 
 He broke off abruptly, thinking first of his 
 experience with the nun and then of his dream of 
 Clemencia. 
 
 He was not particularly susceptible to feminine 
 charm — not more so than the average man — 
 and had known the spell of companionship with 
 delightful women. But until he had met Clemencia 
 no woman had really attracted him. He recalled 
 with a smile that an observing friend had once 
 said to him : 
 
 " Barrlngton, you are too coolly analytical of 
 women to really enjoy them." 
 
 But this girl stirred his soul. She interested and 
 mystified him. Was it her cool, clear, reasoning 
 mind, her poise, or her really exquisite beauty that 
 held him? 
 
 Often her words suggested little undercurrents 
 of thought which turned his own mind Into deeper 
 channels. She was certainly a girl of Individual 
 ideas. One morning she observed oracularly: 
 
 *' Tastes and sympathies in common are abso- 
 lutely necessary for happiness." 
 
 [67] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 " I differ with you there," answered Barrington, 
 taking up the gauntlet. 
 
 " But it is impossible to be happy unless people 
 agree ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 "Are we discussing friendship or love?" 
 laughed her companion. 
 
 " Both," she replied. " One cannot differen- 
 tiate." 
 
 " Again I beg to differ. Something tells me 
 that differences of opinion are not incompatible 
 with happiness." 
 
 But Clemencia was not to be convinced by such 
 argument. 
 
 " Intuition is all very well in some cases," she 
 said. " But if a determined nature meets another 
 with a strain of iron in the blood unhappiness must 
 surely follow." 
 
 " Not necessarily. Inflexible as such natures 
 may be, love is stronger." 
 
 "Is love then so wonderful a thing?" asked 
 the girl. " To me it has always seemed incom- 
 prehensible." 
 
 Barrington was silent. The remark seemed 
 flippant. For a betrothed girl it was curiously out 
 of place, he thought. He looked at her search- 
 [68] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 ingly, but she showed no embarrassment whatever. 
 So he ignored the lightness of her speech and 
 answered seriously: 
 
 " Yes, love, they say, is wonderful. Those 
 whom the divine spark has touched with love for 
 each other never need have any fear of serious 
 friction." 
 
 He was watching her steadily. She was not for 
 him. She was " forbidden fruit." His thoughts 
 must not dwell upon her. Yet try as he would he 
 could not control them. He found himself ana- 
 lyzing her, trying to fathom her feeling for the 
 other man. What manner of man was he whom 
 she had chosen? His name was never mentioned. 
 Did he appreciate the wonderful charm of the 
 woman who had pledged herself to him? And 
 her curious remark about love ? Did she not know 
 its meaning yet? 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts. Lieutenant Har- 
 rington! " Clemencia's voice interrupted his 
 reverie. 
 
 He flushed. '' I was debating your curious 
 views of love," he answered, " and how easily I 
 could shatter them." 
 
 For a moment her own face reflected his color, 
 
 [69] 
 
Clemenaa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 but she quickly recovered herself, and speaking 
 lightly said: 
 
 "Oh, do explain!" 
 
 " There are two people I know who, tested by 
 your theory, are unsuited to each other. Yet they 
 have lived many years in perfect accord." 
 
 '' Oh, then, they could not have been incom- 
 patible!" 
 
 " But they were, really. She was very worldly. 
 He was a student, a lawyer, and indifferent to 
 society. She was a devout Catholic. He was a 
 Protestant. They had not the same point of view 
 in anything." 
 
 " And were they really happy? " 
 
 '' Absolutely so." 
 
 " And you think it was love that gave them 
 happiness?" 
 
 " Their natures were absolute contrasts. 
 Therefore it was love alone that did it. What 
 else could it have been? " 
 
 Again the girl flushed. " Do tell me of them, 
 please." 
 
 *' She was the daughter of an Irish nobleman 
 and was exquisite in face and mind. Her father 
 held a responsible position at the English court, 
 
 [70] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 although most of his time was spent In his home 
 in Ireland. 
 
 " However, it was in England that the man met 
 her first. He was an American. His father was 
 ambassador to the court of St. James. The Irish 
 maiden, with her brilliant beauty and superb 
 health, was wonderfully attractive and when the 
 young American carried her off across the sea as 
 his bride it was not without protest from many a 
 young English nobleman who had paid her 
 homage. But, though he had won her fairly, he 
 had fought a hard battle, and for two winters he 
 had struggled, scarcely knowing from day to day 
 whether he could ever claim her." 
 
 "She was beautiful, you say?" interrupted 
 Clemencia. 
 
 *' Beautiful, fascinating beyond description, but 
 very imperious. She had no desire to go to 
 America. Save for the one important fact that 
 she was madly in love nothing could have dragged 
 her there. Indeed, she fought hard to escape her 
 captor and did not hesitate to tell him frankly 
 that it was against her reason and her will that he 
 had won her heart. 
 
 " At times she was so stormily certain that she 
 
 [71] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 could never make up her mind to marry him and 
 leave Ireland, her beloved home, that he almost 
 lost courage and wondered (although he knew 
 that she loved him) whether he really could make 
 her happy." 
 
 " How long were they betrothed? " 
 
 " Two years, during which time she wrote more 
 than once to him, ' I have changed my mind. I 
 am sure I do not love you.' And then before the 
 time necessary for the letter to reach him had 
 gone by he would get a cablegram saying: 
 ' Believe nothing in my letter! ' 
 
 *' The lover in his law office would feel a great 
 depression. He would guess in advance the con- 
 tents of that letter, and he would say to himself: 
 ' If she is so uncertain of herself, should I not 
 release her?' But he could never bring himself 
 to the point of giving her up so long as his 
 imperious lady gave him the slightest spark of 
 hope. So when he read the letter he turned to 
 the cablegram for consolation and held to the 
 engagement through all the perilous storms." 
 
 " How splendid of him to be so patient! And 
 you say that he got his reward? " 
 
 " Yes. One day she came to him clad in shim- 
 
 [72] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 merlng white and clouds of misty veiling, with a 
 love light In her eyes that was unmistakable. That 
 light has held undimmed through all the years 
 since." 
 
 " What a wonderful love story ! It quite thrills 
 me. Who was the woman? " . 
 
 " Maude Arslan, my mother." 
 
 For a moment Clemencia was silent. Then she 
 said almost harshly: 
 
 " What a beautiful atmosphere you must have 
 been brought up in! " 
 
 *' But there are many such people In the world, 
 I am sure," Harrington responded. 
 
 Clemencia sat for a moment lost in thought. 
 '* I wonder I did not guess your story," she said 
 presently, " for It seems to me I have heard some- 
 thing of the same before." Again she sat musing 
 and Barrington, rather nonplussed at her words, 
 made no attempt to cross-question her. 
 
 " Padre Galvez has told me something of your 
 history," the girl volunteered, at last, '' though 
 he did not mention any names. The devotion of 
 your mother must have been wonderful." 
 
 " Yes, but she tells my father now that In those 
 stormy days of courtship she was showing only 
 
 [73] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 primitive woman rebelling at the thought of bond- 
 age. Once married she knew that she should do 
 him homage forever." 
 
 " Then your father is not a Catholic? " 
 ** No. But his mind is broad. The Arslans of 
 Ireland have been of the faith for centuries and 
 even here in America that faith is so welded with 
 history that it challenges his admiration. He 
 cannot read a page of the story of the early days 
 of his country nor of a battle fought which does 
 not bear the weight of the Catholic clergy. But I 
 have told you a long story when I meant only to 
 convince you that love can exist for persons who 
 are supposed to be absolutely unsuited by nature." 
 
 [74] 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A FEW mornings later on the streets of Santa 
 Barbara Lieutenant Barrington almost col- 
 lided with a woman who came suddenly out of a 
 store. He found himself face to face with the 
 pretty Spanish girl whom he had met on the out- 
 skirts of the town on the day of his arrival. She 
 was dressed in the height of fashion and was about 
 to step into a carriage. He recognized her at once 
 and instinctively put his hand to his hat. But the 
 girl regarded him haughtily, giving no sign of 
 recognition. With head- held high and the coolest 
 of stares she said as plainly as if she had spoken 
 the words: " I do not know you at all. I never 
 saw you before." 
 
 Barrington could scarcely suppress his mirth. 
 She was certainly a cool one. The girl was even 
 prettier in street clothes than in her riding habit. 
 He wondered vaguely what her name was and 
 what could have been her quarrel with that good- 
 looking Spanish husband. In a little while, how- 
 
 [75] 
 
Clemencia'$ Cri0i0 
 
 ever, when the carriage had 
 ^^4^m passed from his sight, he 
 put her out of his mind. 
 
 The third time he met 
 her, though, he could not 
 get her out of his thoughts 
 quite so easily. In fact, he pon- 
 dered a good while about her 
 and found himself feeling a de- 
 gree of responsibility which he 
 did not relish. Even after many 
 days of consideration he was no nearer a solution. 
 
 [76] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0is! 
 
 For his third view of her was in the library of 
 Senora Castellanos' home. She was seated In 
 front of a typewriter taking dictation from the 
 older woman. The officer had called by appoint- 
 ment in regard to detailed arrangements for the 
 reception of the fleet. 
 
 " Lieutenant Barrlngton," said the senora, 
 " Miss Morro, the secretary from my business 
 office in Santa Barbara. I thought Miss Morro 
 could be of assistance to us this morning. She is 
 an expert typist." 
 
 Harrington bowed, eyeing the girl steadily. The 
 young woman inclined her head quietly in return. 
 She gave no sign of recognition, but he fancied he 
 saw a faint rise of color in her cheeks. 
 
 The officer was certainly a bit disturbed over 
 the senora's introduction of her secretary. The 
 young woman whom he had so valiantly defended 
 was not married then ! Yet what other construc- 
 tion could he put upon the Spaniard's words, 
 " This woman is mine! " 
 
 Harrington tried to argue that it was none of 
 his business anyway. Why should he concern 
 himself about her? Yet he could not help being 
 strongly dissatisfied at finding her in so confiden- 
 
 [77] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 tial a relation to Senora Castellanos. In spite of 
 himself, the feeling of responsibility increased. 
 He resented It. Why should a common quarrel 
 between a man and a woman whom he had never 
 seen before so disturb him? But the fact that 
 Miss Morro had tacitly admitted being the man's 
 wife and was now allowing herself to be presented 
 to him as an unmarried woman, offering no 
 explanation, did worry him. He determined to 
 find out something about her. All Inquiries elicited 
 merely the information that she had been in the 
 senora's employ for about five years, was her 
 confidential secretary and was highly respected by 
 the older woman. After a few hours spent In 
 her presence Barrlngton was himself Impressed 
 by her air of candor. 
 
 " I wonder," he mused, " whether I did not 
 dream that scene on the roadway, also." 
 
 [78] 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 A DAY or two later Barrlngton received a 
 note from Mrs. Helton saying, " Will you 
 come to my house party? " 
 
 He went, hoping that he would meet Clemencla, 
 but the girl was not there. Guessing his disap- 
 pointment, his hostess whispered: 
 
 *' Clemencia comes tomorrow, but alas ! the man 
 who dominates her comes also." 
 
 "What man?" inquired the young officer, 
 paling a little at the announcement. 
 
 " Her cousin, Senor Sanchez. I dared not ask 
 her without him. Senora Castellanos might have 
 refused to let her come." 
 
 " From various hints you have dropped, Mrs. 
 Helton, it is easy to guess that Senor Sanchez is 
 the happy man." 
 
 "Happy man?" asked Mrs. Helton in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "The fiance — the lover," answered Barring- 
 ton with a lightness he was far from feeling. 
 
 [79] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis; 
 
 She stared at him a moment with a puzzled 
 look. 
 
 " Oh! Do you always jump at conclusions so 
 quickly? " 
 
 " Well, am I wrong in guessing that Senor 
 Sanchez is a bit jealous, loves her desperately, and 
 fears to give the attractive Miss Castellanos too 
 much freedom? " 
 
 " He loves her desperately, of course. The 
 Spaniards always do. But Senor Sanchez is too 
 selfish to love anybody but himself very thor- 
 oughly.'* 
 
 " Evidently he is not in your good graces." 
 
 " Indeed, he is not. He always gives me the 
 creeps. But cheer up ! Though I have asked 
 him here for two days," she laughed merrily, *' I 
 was very careful not to include him in the invita- 
 tion to motor to Coronado for the arrival of the 
 fleet." 
 
 " He will not be one of the party, then? " 
 
 " He would spoil Clemencia's pleasure, and 
 besides," mockingly, " I have asked you. You 
 are not afraid to go, are you, even though 
 Clemencia is pledged? " 
 
 He flushed, for her insinuation was plain. He 
 
 [80] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis; 
 
 knew that she was aware of his morning rides 
 with Miss Castellanos. 
 
 ^' I am not afraid," he answered, giving back 
 her smile, " but," he added, " tell me more of 
 Miss Castellanos and her engagement." 
 
 '' Not a word," she retorted. " Not a word. 
 The subject is taboo with me. Clemencia knows 
 that I do not approve of it, but I will not discuss 
 it. If you are to hear more on that subject she 
 herself must be your informant. I reiterate my 
 warning, however. Save your heart. Do not 
 care too much. The step she is about to take is 
 inevitable." 
 
 " It will be soon, then? " 
 
 " In less than six months." 
 
 As she finished, half laughingly, half seriously, 
 she gave the signal to rise and left him to ponder 
 over her words. She was well aware of the 
 officer's growing interest in her friend, but she 
 challenged it. She said to herself: " It does not 
 concern me and, apparent as It is, I have warned 
 him. Now the matter rests in Clemencia's own 
 hands." 
 
 [8i] 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE ancients looked upon nature with charm- 
 ing error. They were dazzled by the 
 presence of Imaginary gods. But It Is strange 
 that with all our mature conviction we are still 
 subtly Impressed by the mysterious. Like the 
 wonderful carpet fairy legend gives us which 
 traverses all space at Its master's call and then 
 obeys his command, mystery floats undulating, 
 trembling, held by unseen hands, weaving a spell 
 to bind us to expectancy of some greater revelation 
 close at hand. And so Arslan Harrington, all 
 unconsciously, was slowly but surely entering those 
 dangerous seas on which many a better mariner 
 has been wrecked. 
 
 The young officer had been restless all day and 
 late In the afternoon was returning from a vig- 
 orous walk In the canyon back of the San Isidro 
 Inn. Immersed in thought, he strode rapidly 
 forward, scarcely conscious of the beautiful sur- 
 roundings, which perhaps was just what could be 
 
 [82] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 expected of a young man whose mental vision 
 was bounded by the face of a girl with an appeal 
 in her lovely eyes and whose hair shone like gold. 
 
 Suddenly the stillness of the place was broken 
 by the angry tones of a man speaking Spanish: 
 " Unless you wish to be held among that light 
 class of women whom the world condemns for 
 fickleness of purpose you must keep faith." 
 
 Unconsciously Barrington stopped and as he 
 did so there came in lower tones the sound of a 
 woman's voice seemingly in gentle remonstrance. 
 He could not distinguish the words, but when she 
 had finished the man spoke again irritably: 
 
 '' Just like a woman. For a whim you seek 
 excuse to change your mind. A vow such as you 
 have solemnly given cannot be broken lightly. 
 It would be apostasy — save for one reason I 
 have given you." 
 
 " I have not said that I desired to break it," 
 interrupted the other hastily. '' I spoke only of 
 conscientious qualms — that perhaps after all I 
 was unsuited." 
 
 They were coming toward him, and with a 
 thrill Barrington recognized Clemencia's voice. 
 
 *' Then," pleaded the man in a milder tone, 
 
 [83] 
 
Clemencia's! Cri0i$ 
 
 " think well of all I have said, Clemencia. Marry 
 me at once. That would solve the difficulty. Your 
 grandmother would soon — " 
 
 " Say no more," the girl answered nervously. 
 " I will keep my word. I will hold to my pledge, 
 but I will speak no more on this subject for six 
 months." 
 
 The lieutenant moved forward and a turn in 
 the path revealed Miss Castellanos and a man. 
 
 Clemencia's face showed her agitation and dis- 
 tress, but he hardly noticed her in his hurried 
 recognition of her companion. It was the Span- 
 iard who had treated Miss Morro so brutally! 
 
 This, then, was the lover! His instinct had 
 not misled him in his first dislike of the man. 
 Clemencia must have noticed the consternation 
 in his face, but she said calmly: 
 
 " Lieutenant Harrington, my cousin, Senor 
 Sanchez." 
 
 For a moment Harrington was speechless. He 
 acknowledged the Spaniard's greetings with a bow 
 and then recovering himself said curtly: 
 
 *' We have met before." 
 
 Both men were irritated and the attitude of the 
 one to the other was decidedly antagonistic. That 
 
 [84] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 much was apparent to Clemencia and she could 
 not help exclaiming: "You have met before — 
 where? " 
 
 With an ugly laugh her cousin said: 
 
 " Do not insist upon an answer. Lieutenant 
 Barrington and I are doomed to have inopportune 
 encounters." 
 
 Barrington^s eyes flamed at the rudeness of the 
 remark, but he kept his temper. 
 
 " I quite agree with Senor Sanchez, Senorita," 
 he responded. " This meeting seems even more 
 unpleasant than the last." 
 
 Bowing gravely to Clemencia as he passed he 
 then lifted his hat to the man. For the fraction 
 of a second their glances met and held. In the 
 brilliant black eyes of the Spaniard flashed inso- 
 lence and a gleam of something like hatred. In 
 the steel-blue orbs of the young officer contempt 
 was plainly visible. In cutting tones he said: 
 
 " Senor Sanchez, I desire even more earnestly 
 than before the fulfillment of the wish I made 
 when last we parted." 
 
 He was furious at the man's insolence, and his 
 fists ached at the restraint he had put upon them. 
 Furthermore, it angered him that the Spaniard 
 
 [85] 
 
Cleimnna'0 Cti0{0 
 
 with his flashing black eyes, white teeth, dark 
 mustache and fine figure was certainly handsome. 
 
 But was a girl of Clemencia's type to be dom- 
 inated by the spirit of such a man? He was 
 utterly unworthy of her. Not only his behavior 
 with Miss Morro needed an explanation of the 
 fullest sort, but his whole manner indicated that 
 he was not built on lines which a woman could 
 respect. After his two encounters with him Har- 
 rington was willing to swear that a girl of 
 Clemencia's lofty ideals and mentality could not 
 be won by such a man. Yet she was engaged 
 to him I 
 
 At dinner that night Clemencia was unusually 
 silent. Over the whole party, in fact, there seemed 
 to fall a kind of restraint. Mrs. Helton, excellent 
 hostess that she was, recognized it and with her 
 woman's wit determined to offset it. She turned 
 to the man who sat next to her and said: 
 
 " I propose that we all tell a story." 
 
 "Good!" came the answer. "But of what 
 kind?" 
 
 " Oh, anything. A personal experience, a 
 sudden impression — really, any criticism or com- 
 plaint will pass," she finished laughingly. 
 [86] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 '* Well, as the Instigator of the conspiracy you 
 must begin," her neighbor replied. 
 
 Anecdotes and short stories followed each other 
 in quick succession, but when It came Harrington's 
 turn he found himself unprepared. The depres- 
 sion which had followed his experience of the 
 afternoon was still strong upon him. 
 
 '' May I just pay a compliment? " he asked. 
 
 ** Yes, if it is a very nice one," answered his 
 hostess. 
 
 " You have the finest country club I ever saw." 
 
 A ripple of pleasure went round the table. 
 Their country club was their delight. 
 
 '' Thank you, lieutenant, and may I hope you 
 do not condemn us as always drinking cocktails 
 and playing bridge as so many visitors do? " said 
 Mrs. Helton. 
 
 " Oh, no; your country club Is not only for the 
 rich who enjoy It because of the cool oysters, iced 
 champagne, and black coffee to be had there. I 
 admired especially the athletic youths and maidens 
 I saw there with their golf, tennis, and horseback 
 riding." 
 
 " Evidently Lieutenant Harrington likes only 
 the hatless amazons? " Interposed Senor Sanchez, 
 
 [87] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 leaning forward. There was a veiled contempt 
 in his tone as if he would belittle the admiration 
 Arslan had expressed. 
 
 " I like the independence of the life," calmly 
 answered Harrington. " The Gibson girl with 
 her high-bred air expressive of character and dis- 
 dain is more to my taste than the maidens of our 
 grandmothers' days." 
 
 " And you believe the country club responsible 
 for the change?" asked Sanchez. 
 
 " I believe the country club is helping our youth, 
 and that by its aid we are building a nobility for 
 America to be proud of — the nobility of robust 
 health." 
 
 '* Beautiful sentiments, undoubtedly," laughed 
 the Spaniard. " But to my mind there are higher 
 aspirations." 
 
 He was looking straight at Harrington as he 
 spoke. There was nothing in the words them- 
 selves to challenge anger particularly. But some- 
 how his manner always seemed aggressive when 
 he addressed the young officer. 
 
 " My story," said Sanchez, when it came his 
 turn, " is of a different type of woman — one 
 you cannot fail to admire. It is of the unselfish 
 [88] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn$i0 
 
 woman who believes It better to have Ideals and 
 to live up to them ! " 
 
 He had turned to his hostess and was now 
 speaking directly to her. She grew restless under 
 his gaze and answered nervously: 
 
 " I hate the woman who Is always making 
 sacrifices. It does not seem fair." 
 
 " But she, after all, Is the woman whom the 
 world glorifies, is she not? " queried Sanchez. 
 
 " Perhaps. But one thing is certain. She never 
 gets any happiness out of it herself." 
 
 The white teeth of Sanchez gleamed In amuse- 
 ment as he said: 
 
 " As happiness Is only relative, madame, who 
 will say that she does not? " 
 
 [89] 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SANCHEZ swept a challenging glance around 
 the table, but as no one was disposed to debate 
 with him the question of what constitutes happi- 
 ness, he commenced his story. 
 
 " In New Orleans, that city of sunshine and 
 magnolias, there lived a charming French girl — 
 beautiful Mathllde Gourlet. She was the only 
 daughter among six sons and from her childhood 
 she had set her heart upon being a nun. Her 
 parents, though devout Catholics, did not approve 
 of her wish and so being an affectionate and duti- 
 ful daughter she deferred to them. When she 
 was about twenty-six, however, her parents died 
 and then she faced her brothers with her desire. 
 
 " Seeing that her mind was fully made up to 
 take the step they consented — provided that she 
 would wait two years. Then she began a strange 
 novitiate. With her brothers she traveled the 
 world over. They sought the secrets of the Chi- 
 nese shrines, entered into the spirit of the desert 
 
 [90] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cn0i0 
 
 and whispered to the Sphynx and the Pyramids. 
 They lingered In Europe and by every joy that 
 mortal mind could devise the brothers tried to 
 win her back to the world." 
 
 Mrs. Helton grew nervous and moved uneasily 
 In her chair. Calling a servant, she ordered 
 another window opened. The smooth tones of 
 the Spaniard continued: 
 
 *' At last, however, they returned home. A 
 little later her brothers invited the youth and 
 beauty of the Crescent City to the most brilliant 
 ball of the season. Mathllde's loveliness was 
 supreme that night. Her soft ivory-tinted skin 
 had no suspicion of paleness. Her abundant hair 
 was crowned with diamonds and her bare arms 
 glittered with the same costly gems. In her white 
 gown she looked like a bride save for the absence 
 of a veil. Every one who looked at her was 
 thrilled. The next morning she entered the con- 
 vent. It was the wish of her brothers that she 
 should leave the world in this dramatic setting." 
 
 Silence filled the room when Sanchez had fin- 
 ished his story. At last some one said: 
 
 " It is dramatic, but is it true? " 
 
 '' Absolutely true, Senorita. And is not 
 
 [91] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Mathllde Gourlet a type of spiritual purity worthy 
 of the middle ages? " 
 
 " For the love of heaven don't say yes," broke 
 in Mrs. Helton. " To my mind she was a fanatic. 
 Her story gives me the creeps." 
 
 '' But she had the courage of her conviction," 
 persisted Sanchez. " She allowed no worldly con- 
 sideration to tempt her from it." 
 
 " She was narrow-minded," retorted Mrs. 
 Helton, hotly. " Think of what the world held 
 for her and how heedlessly she abandoned it. 
 But come," she said, rising, " let's go into the 
 patio. The air is stifling here." 
 
 The men remained in the dining-room over 
 their wine and cigars, with the exception of 
 Sanchez, who, as Clemencia passed, addressed a 
 few words to her and then accompanied her from 
 the room. Barrington noticed that she drew back 
 slightly and seemed to shiver. However, he was 
 helpless and could not interfere. 
 
 Clemencia had said but little during the dinner. 
 Of this Barrington was quite sure, for he had not 
 been able to get her out of his thoughts at all and 
 had sent many a furtive glance in her direction. 
 When he saw the Spaniard accompanying 
 
 [92] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 Clemencia from the table he had a moody feeling 
 of discontent. But he reasoned with himself: 
 " They are engaged. I will not allow my mind 
 to dwell upon her so continually. She is nothing 
 to me." Yet in some way, even as he said this, 
 he felt strangely out of tune with everything. 
 
 He became quite oblivious to his surroundings, 
 but was suddenly aware that Mr. Helton was 
 speaking: 
 
 " The man is a cad. I have long been suspi- 
 cious of his morals. But he certainly has an 
 unholy influence over Clemencia and Senora Cas- 
 tellanos. I have never liked him and Clemencia 
 knows it. But to tell that story ! Well, I have no 
 words to express my contempt. Yet he was my 
 guest. What could I say? " 
 
 Then becoming aware that Barrington was 
 gazing at him curiously he said apologetically: 
 
 " Excuse me, Barrington, for criticising a man 
 under my own roof, but our Spanish friend always 
 seems to get upon my nerves." 
 
 Everybody laughed and the subject was dis- 
 missed. 
 
 [93] 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 BARRINGTON found himself the next day 
 decided on a course that he had never fol- 
 lowed before In his life — the prying Into affairs 
 of others when they had no direct concern with 
 his own. Though he despised Sanchez for more 
 reasons than one he was convinced that his preju- 
 dice was not wholly a biased one. The Spanish 
 dandy was undoubtedly a scoundrel. Regardless 
 of Sanchez's relations to Miss Castellanos, which 
 the young lieutenant deplored without seeing just 
 how he could disrupt them, he had determined 
 to try and learn whether the young secretary, 
 Miss Morro, was a misled victim of Sanchez's 
 charm — or, something else. 
 
 Matters pertaining to the reception of the fleet 
 made It necessary for Harrington to call on the 
 Senora Castellanos that morning, so he decided 
 to begin his Investigations at once. 
 
 Chance favored him, for when he was ushered 
 Into the library of the senora's home he found 
 
 [94] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cti0i0 
 
 Miss Morro there alone. She arose as he came 
 in and apologized for her employer's absence, 
 who was 111 with a headache. 
 
 Miss Morro, however, gave him no opportu- 
 nity to question her. Work was prepared and 
 she at once delved Into it. After a few minutes 
 had passed Harrington Interrupted boldly. He 
 knew that Sanchez was expected and would join 
 them within an hour. 
 
 '' Miss Morro," he said, " please let the work 
 wait a minute. Since yesterday I feel that I must 
 ask you a question. You owe me an explanation." 
 
 "Of what, Senor Barrlngton?" the girl 
 replied, with a look of surprise in her eyes and a 
 haughty toss of her head. 
 
 " Of the scene I witnessed the first day I saw 
 you." 
 
 Her dark brows, set close to the bridge of her 
 nose, met suddenly in a frown. But this was the 
 only sign she gave of being taken by surprise. 
 She sat back negligently in her chair, swinging 
 her foot and staring at him, but her voice when 
 she spoke had no inflection of displeasure. 
 
 '' You are extremely impertinent, Senor," she 
 said slowly. 
 
 [95] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " I assure you that I do not mean to be." 
 
 '' Then truly your words do you an injustice, 
 Sir!" 
 
 Barrington leaned forward still watching her 
 narrowly. 
 
 " Miss Morro," he said, '' we may be inter- 
 rupted at any moment. Do not bandy words. I 
 am quite serious in my demand that you tell me 
 clearly the meaning of that scene." 
 
 At this her temper flashed out unmistakably. 
 
 "By what right do you question me?" she 
 demanded wrathfully. 
 
 Her flushed face and brilliantly angry eyes did 
 not disturb Barrington's imperturbability in the 
 least. He regarded her silently for an instant 
 and then replied: 
 
 *' Yesterday I saw Senor Sanchez for the second 
 time." 
 
 He thought he noticed her wince at this, but 
 she sat up straighter in her chair and then leaned 
 toward him defiantly. 
 
 " Well? " she volunteered. " What of that? " 
 
 " Until then I had no idea that he was the man 
 I associated with you." 
 
 " And now that you associate him with me," 
 
 [96] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cris!i0 
 
 she said scornfully, " I reiterate, what gives you 
 the right to question me? " 
 
 " Miss Morro," he said, " we are only wasting 
 time. You know very well that I took you to be 
 his wife. What else could I infer from his state- 
 ment to me which you heard, ' This woman is 
 mine ! ' " 
 
 She laughed. " Why don't you ask him then? " 
 
 " I want the truth from you." 
 
 She narrowed her lids until her eyes scarcely 
 showed at all. 
 
 " Could he not best explain his own words? " 
 she said. 
 
 " He would lie to me if I asked him." 
 
 *' And will I not lie also?" 
 
 '* Senorita, I have seen you here every day for 
 a week. I am sure you will tell me the truth." 
 
 " You insult me and pay me a compliment in 
 the same breath, Senor. Oh, the strangeness of 
 man!" 
 
 " Miss Morro," he persisted earnestly, " please 
 believe me when I tell you that I have no desire 
 to learn your secret, if there is one. But the 
 happiness of a lady in whom I take a great inter- 
 est is involved in this matter. Only yesterday I 
 
 [97] 
 
CIemencia'$ Crj0i$ 
 
 learned that this is so. Otherwise, I should never 
 have interfered." 
 
 " And you really think I will tell you the 
 truth?" 
 
 " Need we go further into that? I have studied 
 you more closely than you are aware, but that was 
 unnecessary. Instinct told me at once that you 
 v/ere truthful." 
 
 The girl moved restlessly. " You said a woman 
 was involved," she said at last. " May I be per- 
 mitted to ask what woman? " 
 
 " Is it possible that you do not know that Senor 
 Sanchez is engaged?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" she screamed. 
 
 Harrington was utterly unprepared for such an 
 outburst. She broke out furiously in a storm of 
 denial. Was she acting? Was it possible that 
 she had never heard before the fact which he sup- 
 posed generally known? 
 
 " It is false, Senor Harrington, absolutely 
 false," she stormed, her face convulsed with 
 anger. 
 
 Appalled at the violence of her temper he could 
 scarcely find words to reply. But he realized the 
 importance of calming her. 
 
 [98] 
 
Clemencia'0 €ti$ifi 
 
 " Miss Morro," he said, " you must control 
 yourself. Remember, we may be interrupted at 
 any minute." 
 
 He poured her out a glass of water and she 
 drank it eagerly while she struggled to regain her 
 self-control. 
 
 " Pull yourself together," he said encourag- 
 ingly. " There must be some way out of this 
 affair. Let me help you if I can." 
 
 That Sanchez was deserving of any punishment 
 Harrington did not for a moment doubt. But 
 this was no time to impress that opinion upon 
 Miss Morro. His heart went out in sympathy to 
 the girl. She was suffering deeply. 
 
 " Senor," she said, and her voice fell almost 
 to a whisper in her distress, " who is the woman? 
 I must know her name." 
 
 " Is it possible, Miss Morro, that you do not 
 know that Sanchez is to marry his cousin ! " 
 
 Absolute horror was depicted on her face as 
 she gasped: 
 
 " You cannot mean Miss Castellanos? " 
 
 The girl's face was ashen. 
 
 " Senor Barrington," she said slowly, " she can 
 never marry him." 
 
 [99] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Barrlngton hoped she spoke the truth. Aloud 
 he asked: 
 
 ''Why?" 
 
 " There are some vows too holy to be broken." 
 
 " Then you are his wife? " 
 
 " I cannot answer," cried the girl in distress, 
 " but a curse will surely come upon him if he 
 marries her." 
 
 " Why will you not tell me what I want to 
 know? " he demanded sternly. " If you are his 
 wife, say so. If not, what claim have you upon 
 him?" 
 
 " I will not answer your question. The affair 
 is mine, and his. But this much I will tell you. 
 He shall never marry another, that I swear! " 
 
 Harrington found no time to question her fur- 
 ther. He heard the outer door close. Some one 
 was coming. Miss Morro went back trembling 
 to her desk, and bent over her papers, saying as 
 she did so in a low voice: 
 
 " Meet me tonight, Senor, under the eucalyptus 
 trees. I must talk with you." 
 
 A moment later when Sanchez entered her face 
 was perfectly composed, and she was apparently 
 absorbed in her duties. 
 
 [ lOo] 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THAT night, under the eucalyptus trees, 
 Juanlta Morro sobbed out her story to the 
 naval officer. Standing in the shadow of the 
 great trees she said tragically: 
 
 " He shall never leave me. No other woman 
 shall ever have him. Senor Barrington, my love 
 for Sanchez has made me wicked. I am reckless 
 without it. No matter what I feel, no matter 
 how I strive against him, once in his arms I am 
 helpless. What you saw that first day out on the 
 edge of the town is proof of what I say. He has 
 often struck me, yet I love him more than my life. 
 Help me. I am in despair." 
 
 " You have spoken to him, then? " 
 
 [lOl] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0j0 
 
 " Alas, yes. And he has dared to tell me he 
 will marry his cousin in spite of me. But I know 
 he cannot marry her. That is but an idle threat 
 to frighten me." 
 
 " Then why are you so miserable? " 
 
 " Because he loves her and no longer loves me. 
 Even without the marriage I am lost." 
 
 Barrington was helpless in the presence of the 
 woman's grief. There was no remedy he could 
 offer. Then, too, though he was genuinely sorry 
 for the girl, her misery was literally nothing 
 before the great consequences which might befall 
 Clemencia. Was a woman of her exquisite per- 
 sonality to be sacrificed to such as Sanchez? A 
 thousand times no. Yet how could he prevent 
 such disaster? 
 
 '' Senor, you came unbidden to my help once. 
 Will you not help me now? " 
 
 " I would gladly do so if I could," he replied. 
 •* But I cannot prevent the marriage. Neither 
 can you keep a man who has ceased to love you." 
 
 " It is more than the mere fact that I love him," 
 she said in a low voice. " He must make me an 
 honest woman. He has sworn to marry me. Oh, 
 Senor, help me to win him back! " 
 [ 102] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Would to God that I could, Miss Morro ! 
 But if you have no claim upon him I see no way." 
 
 " They will never marry. I have told you that 
 often. But if he continues to love her I will kill 
 her." 
 
 "Hush!" he said sternly, seizing her arm. 
 " Do not talk so wildly. If I thought that you 
 would injure a hair on her head I would — well, 
 you must not speak of her like that, you under- 
 stand! " 
 
 *' Ah, I see. You love her, too ! " 
 
 " Leave Miss Castellanos out of the question," 
 he replied roughly, " if you wish me to help you." 
 
 " Senor," she said very softly, " so much the 
 better. I will not hate her if you love her. Only 
 help me to win Sanchez back. But if I cannot do 
 that there is still another way. I have not been 
 his confidential secretary for nothing," and her 
 face darkened. 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 " That I will not tell you. I suspected long ago 
 that he might wish some day to leave me and I 
 determined to have a weapon to fight him with if 
 he did." 
 
 *' And you have such a weapon? " 
 [ 103] 
 
Clemenria'0 Crisis 
 
 " I have, and if I can hold him no other way 
 I can do so by means of this.'* 
 
 Barrlngton regarded her curiously. What a 
 mixture of love and revenge she cherished in that 
 pretty head of hers! Perhaps, however, it was 
 just as well, he thought, that she could feel as she 
 did. Aloud he said: 
 
 " Miss Morro, if there is any earthly reason 
 why Senor Sanchez is not fit to wed his cousin 
 the sin will be on your head if you do not expose 
 him." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I shall never use what I know. 
 Did I not tell you I was but as wax in his hands? 
 But I am still beautiful, Senor Harrington. I will 
 not allow myself to believe that I have lost him 
 yet." 
 
 She was a girl of spirit. How in the world 
 could such a man as Sanchez have won her so 
 completely? She was loyalty itself, and with all 
 his perfidy staring her in the face she still wanted 
 him. 
 
 " Senor Harrington," she continued, " in two 
 days Senorita Castellanos accompanies Mrs. 
 Helton to the Coronado and you are doubtless 
 included in the party. Well, I will try my beauty 
 
 [ 104] 
 
anemenna'$ Cri0i0 
 
 on Sanchez In her absence. He loved me once. 
 I win bide my time In silence till you return. If 
 I win, you win never know the weapon I hold 
 against him. If I lose, well, perhaps I may have 
 more to tell you then." 
 
 [105] 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 IT was the night before Clemencia was to 
 accompany the Heltons to Coronado Beach. 
 Her packing was almost finished and she stood 
 eyeing the last bag thoughtfully. Had she or 
 her maid forgotten anything? As she stood 
 musing the deep-toned voice of the senora called 
 to her: 
 
 " Clemencia, I desire a word with you." 
 
 " Certainly, Grandmamma," the girl replied, 
 somewhat surprised, for the hour was late and 
 she had supposed her grandmother had retired. 
 *' Shall I come to your study? " 
 
 " No. It is not necessary. I can say what I 
 have to say here. Yet " — she hesitated a 
 moment — " on second thought perhaps the study 
 would be best. Your maid may interrupt us any 
 moment here, and," she added gravely, " I want 
 your individual attention." 
 
 Clemencia bowed obediently and followed her 
 grandmother from the room. They traversed the 
 long corridor, which separated their apartments, 
 [io6] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0j0 
 
 
 without a word. 
 
 Each was occupied 
 
 with her own 
 
 thoughts, conscious '• „i. ^ 
 
 that a combat of will, if such ensued,- 
 
 •v. 
 
 would be violent. With all the re- ^ 
 spect which Clemencia bore her i^/ 
 grandmother there had been times of late when 
 she had found it difficult to acquiesce unquestion- 
 ably in many of her wishes. 
 
 A low fire burned on the hearth in the senora's 
 study and a bright reading lamp stood beside an 
 open book. She motioned Clemencia to a chair. 
 [107] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " It is quite late, Grandmamma," the girl pro- 
 tested, " and my packing is not quite finished. 
 Will you keep me long? " 
 
 " Not longer than is necessary." 
 
 Clemencia shivered a little as she sank back 
 into the soft cushions. She recalled that other 
 evening many years ago when she learned that 
 she was to go to an American school. Tonight 
 the determination written in the senora's eyes was 
 hardly less pronounced than then. 
 
 " Clemencia," the old woman began again in a 
 caustic tone, " I should never have consented to 
 this trip to the Coronado had I known that San- 
 chez was not to be of the party." 
 
 '' Surely you cannot hold me responsible for 
 that ! " exclaimed the girl. 
 
 " Not responsible, perhaps, but you should have 
 declined to accept an invitation which did not 
 include him." 
 
 " I do not care to discuss that," she answered, 
 rising from her chair. 
 
 '' I think you were partly to blame, but keep 
 your seat and your temper," her grandmother 
 added dryly, " for I have by no means finished 
 what I wish to say." 
 
 [io8] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 Clemencia settled back. " You have never liked 
 Agatha," she said hotly, and her voice held a 
 suspicion of tears. 
 
 " For that very reason you should be more 
 grateful that I permit you to visit her so often." 
 
 It was not easy to answer that statement, for 
 in a measure it was true. Yet Clemencia recalled 
 with resentment the fact that each one of her 
 visits to her friend invariably entailed some dis- 
 agreeable scene with the senora. 
 
 The latter's keen eyes were now watching her 
 closely and, it must be admitted, disapprovingly. 
 She allowed for the heat of youth and the dis- 
 parity of years between them. But in the agita- 
 tion of the younger woman the senora thought 
 she detected more than the mere resentment of 
 youth. Her tone had a touch of asperity when 
 she spoke again. 
 
 " My objection today is not a question of my 
 dislike for Mrs. Helton. The basis of it is of 
 vasdy more importance than that frivolous little 
 woman could inspire." 
 
 Clemencia lifted her eyes to her grandmother's 
 face and for a moment the two women held each 
 other's glance in angry silence. The senora was 
 
 [ 109 ] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cri0i0 
 
 calm with the serenity born of her years. The 
 girl's eyes finally wavered under her look and fell. 
 
 " I do not understand what you mean, Grand- 
 mamma," she said in a low voice. 
 
 " Are you quite sure that you do not, Cle- 
 mencia? " 
 
 Red and white warred in the girl's face, but 
 she spoke firmly. " I cannot even guess unless it 
 is as you say, that you are disturbed that Manuel 
 is not going. Is that it? " 
 
 *'No!" The senora's voice rang hard and 
 stern. " No. That is not the real reason." 
 
 "Then what is it?" 
 
 The old woman leaned forward and her words 
 came cold and incisive. 
 
 " I will give two reasons. First, I learned 
 today that you were hesitating upon the step you 
 have sworn to take before the altar." 
 
 Clemencia sprang to her feet. " It is not true ! " 
 she cried. " Sanchez lied when he told you that." 
 
 '' On the contrary, he told me with sorrow in 
 his heart. He loves you tenderly." 
 
 *' He is too selfish to love anyone tenderly. He 
 knows that I despise him. Yet he torments me 
 daily." 
 
 [no] 
 
Clemencia '0 €tM^ 
 
 " You are unjust and wrong. His Is a devoted 
 affection." 
 
 " But I, at least, am truthful. Manuel always 
 puts me on the defensive with you. It Is always 
 Manuel whom you believe. Never for a moment 
 do you judge me except through his eyes." 
 
 " I repeat that his Influence has nothing what- 
 ever to do with my views this time." 
 
 The senora's quiet manner and calm assurance 
 unconsciously Impressed Clemencia and her own 
 voice was less aggressive. 
 
 " Why do you doubt me then, Grandmamma? " 
 " I have a great reason to do so." 
 " What possible reason could you have? " 
 " You shall hear! Listen. This Is my second 
 reason. You have ridden too many times with 
 the American naval officer. You have been seen 
 for hours with this stranger, and he It Is Instead 
 of Manuel who is to accompany you to Coronado 
 Beach. Is that not enough? " and her eyes glit- 
 tered with rage. 
 
 Clemencia stood tall, straight, and very white. 
 Her head was uplifted in haughty defiance. For a 
 moment she could not reply and even when she 
 found her voice it trembled. 
 [m] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 " Well? Why should I not ride with him? " 
 
 " Do you consider it right? " 
 
 *' Was it not plainly stipulated that for six 
 months I should be free? " 
 
 " You should not play with fire." 
 
 *' There is no fire." 
 
 " There might be should you continue." 
 
 " And if I do not choose to stop? " 
 
 '' It is then as I feared! " the older woman 
 cried out despairingly. Suddenly she turned white 
 and holding her hand to her heart as if in great 
 pain she sank limply into her chair. In a moment 
 Clemencia was at her side crying remorsefully. 
 
 '' Oh, forgive me ! Forgive me, I really did 
 not mean what I said! " 
 
 " My child," said the senora, struggling to 
 regain her composure and stroking the girl's hair 
 tenderly, " beware of the American. When I 
 think of your unhappy mother I tremble for you. 
 It is my love which makes me want to keep you 
 from them all." 
 
 Clemencia smiled up warmly Into her face. 
 
 *' Do not fear for me, Grandmamma," she 
 cried. " I am bound forever by my oath. I 
 shall never forget." 
 
 [1.2] 
 
m^^ieJSL 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE strike made travel by railroad uncertain, 
 so Mrs. Helton determined to make the 
 trip to Coronado by motor Instead of In her hus- 
 band's luxurious private car. 
 
 In the lovely spring weather there was little 
 danger from storms, and then there was the 
 delight of running over the mountains and across 
 the valleys at a speed that suited one's mood. 
 She and her husband with Clemencia and Lieu- 
 tenant Barrlngton formed the party. 
 
 They left Santa Barbara one brilliant morning 
 shortly after sunrise and skirting gardens, vine- 
 yards, and ranches, began climbing the Casltas 
 Pass. They were reversing the trip which Har- 
 rington had made on foot across that glorious 
 
 [113] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i$ 
 
 summit. He pointed out to them the way he had 
 taken and showed them the spot where he had 
 stood and obtained his first glimpse of Santa 
 Barbara. 
 
 Although he talked much of his never to be 
 forgotten tramp over the Casitas, he said not a 
 word of the episode under the great pepper tree 
 in the lower valley. It seemed like sacrilege to 
 mention that experience to others. He felt he 
 had stumbled accidentally upon a tragedy, and the 
 proximity of the scene recalled vividly that pic- 
 ture of a woman's misery. 
 
 Mrs. Helton's gay voice interrupted his revery 
 and he looked up to see both women watching 
 him. But in the eyes of Miss Castellanos there 
 was not the surprise or amusement he detected in 
 those of Mrs. Helton. She seemed, by her intense 
 look, to ask a question, and while her face be- 
 trayed anxiety he was aware that it prompted in 
 him a curious sensation of pleasure. Mrs. Hel- 
 ton was saying: 
 
 " Do you know that you broke off abruptly in 
 the description of your walk and have not spoken 
 a word for five minutes? " 
 
 Barrington apologized for his abstraction and 
 
 [114] 
 
Clemencia'$ Cri0i0 
 
 though temporarily embarrassed was soon at his 
 ease. But he found himself wondering why Cle- 
 mencla had given him that quick, frightened look. 
 
 *' There," he said, to relieve the strain, " I 
 stood watching the widespread beauty before me. 
 There lay Santa Barbara bathed In the pure riches 
 of the sun." 
 
 " It speaks well for us that you could have any 
 admiration left for our little town," laughed Mrs. 
 Helton. " I should think that your eyes would 
 have been surfeited with the beauties of the pass." 
 
 " I must admit," he answered, " that white 
 crowned peaks and foaming waterfalls are en- 
 chanting. But look! Those green trees which 
 gleam like emeralds In the sunshine — tell me, 
 are they not wonderful, too? " 
 
 *' I think I love the deep canyons of the Sierras 
 better than any other view," Clemencia volun- 
 teered. 
 
 " But the lower passes have also a great charm. 
 Where will you find a lovelier view than this? " 
 asked Mrs. Helton. " See, ridge and valley 
 below us, stretching out In marvelous beauty of 
 roughened ground or cultivated land to the blue 
 waters of the Pacific! " 
 
 [115] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 '' I grant all that," the girl answered, *' but the 
 Sierras hold a solemn, ineffable beauty. The deep 
 silences, the strange tones found in the heart of 
 the mountains cause one to forget the world and 
 fill one with an exhilarating gladness." 
 
 What a fine wilderness was revealed as they 
 crossed the range ! The Casitas is not a high 
 pass, but even were one possessed of the coldest 
 nature he could scarcely fail to fall under its spell. 
 It gives bewildering impressions of long curves, 
 high peaks and blooming underbrush and it stirs 
 the soul to a sense of its beauty. 
 
 The little party did not lack enthusiasm. Cours- 
 ing along in the fleet-flying automobile, the bright 
 spangled light falling about them, they seemed to 
 be floating through an enchanted world. Leaving 
 the pass they descended rapidly, soon reaching 
 Ventura and the open sea. 
 
 Here the mission and the whole country around 
 it v/ere full of reminiscences of Ramona and her 
 sheep-shearing ranch. 
 
 Again there was a long stretch of gardens, 
 streams, and glimpses of misty mountains; then 
 once more a picturesque mission and San Fer- 
 nando. 
 
 [n6] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 Once as they neared a desert tract Mr. Helton 
 called out from his seat beside the chauffeur: 
 
 " Look, Barrington, look at those two palms! " 
 
 Glancing in the direction indicated the young 
 man saw two date palms, erect as sentinels, guard- 
 ing the entrance to that vast stretch of golden 
 sands. Their size was unusual even in this coun- 
 try of large palms, and their trunks, looking like 
 huge pineapples, held aloft the colossal leaves 
 curving and swaying like ostrich feathers. 
 
 "Are they not wonderful?" said Clemencia. 
 " I always think of the fairies when I see them. 
 Their bending green branches hide all sorts of 
 beautiful things I am sure." 
 
 " It seems marvelous to me," responded Bar- 
 rington, '* that here on the edge of the desert, 
 where nothing endures, such a thing of beauty is 
 born. Your thought of the fairies must be cor- 
 rect, for these palms seem enchanted princesses 
 in their glittering emerald-green dresses." 
 
 " Men talk of the solitude and the desolation 
 of the desert," said Clemencia, " but there is a 
 strange fascination about its loneliness and it is 
 always a splendid sea of color. The greens, golds, 
 and blues of the mountains, the pale topaz sands, 
 
 [117] 
 
Clemenciag Cri0i0 
 
 the white clouds overhead all are past description. 
 Then at noon comes that Midas touch of golden 
 haze over it all." 
 
 " Clemencia sees wonders in the desert always, 
 Lieutenant Barrington," interpolated Mrs. Hel- 
 ton. " To me it means only a wavering heat of 
 mirage and sand, not the least bit wonderful." 
 
 " You are always so exact, Agatha," smiled 
 her companion. '' Do you never see in that sea 
 of sand the golden fire blazing? And have you 
 never noticed at sunset the strange, opalescent 
 lights which flutter over mountain and plain? " 
 
 " Indeed I have tried earnestly to see these 
 marvels, Clemencia, dear, but the fairies are not 
 generous to me. The best I can do is to acknowl- 
 edge that the desert possesses no supernatural 
 charms and that I am always glad to leave it." 
 
 [ii8] 
 
fm^-r 
 
 
 
 
 *i^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THUS by easy stages, stopping at the mis- 
 sions as they passed, the little party accom- 
 plished in a few days what to Barrington seemed 
 the most enjoyable trip he had ever known. 
 
 Sometimes he and Mrs. Helton sat for hours 
 and talked. At other times Clemencia shared 
 his seat, and while both were delightful com- 
 panions the charm of the younger woman was 
 different from anything he had ever known. 
 
 Mrs. Helton's conversation was the smart and 
 scintillating kind that prompts ready response, 
 while Clemencia's precluded the frivolous. 
 
 In this world of many echoes he found hers 
 was a voice. Her opinions were worth while and 
 her arguments most convincing, and once, after 
 
 [119] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 some expression that had particularly Impressed 
 him, he said: 
 
 " Miss Castellanos, in this day of free play — 
 of individualism — I believe your wise counsel 
 and persuasions would be genuinely beneficial to 
 some of your sisters. I am serious when I say 
 that you should talk to them." 
 
 In an instant Clemencia was silent. The per- 
 sonal trend of his remarks obviously troubled her. 
 But her face betrayed perturbation rather than 
 annoyance. She caught him eyeing her keenly, 
 and nervously aroused herself to reply. 
 
 " There are many reasons, Lieutenant Barring- 
 ton," she said quietly, " why I could never have 
 a voice in public matters." 
 
 " You are too modest," he Insisted quickly. 
 " Every woman has the right to express her con- 
 victions if she has the ability to support them." 
 
 Clemencla's long lashes drooped. She made 
 no further reply and somehow Barrington, too, 
 felt no desire to push the subject. There were 
 times like these when her very presence seemed 
 enough. And her moods of silence were con- 
 tagious. 
 
 Her beauty, too, appalled him. The color in 
 
 [ 120] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 her cheeks, In her hair, her wonderful dark eyes 
 flecked with sparks of fire were fascinating, and 
 the heavy lashes which lay against her cheeks 
 made their ivory tint more lovely. 
 
 Sometimes she sat quietly, looking out across 
 hill or mesa, with only a faint flush warming her 
 face and revealing her delight at the view. She 
 looked so pure, so aloof, as if she might have been 
 a priestess of some old temple. He felt a wild 
 desire, there on the public road, to enter the lists 
 and fight to keep her forever with him. 
 
 As they talked they sped along through the 
 beautiful rolling country. The mountains in blue 
 shadows, with misty, white clouds hovering about 
 them reared their lofty heads to the left. To the 
 right were spread gardens, orchards, and vine- 
 yards in every stage of cultivation, and before 
 them lay a long stretch of the road like a slender 
 brown ribbon. 
 
 The eyes of San Diego were turned seaward. 
 The long-expected fleet, through roughened seas, 
 had rounded the Horn and in majestic array was 
 entering the beautiful harbor of Coronado Beach. 
 
 What feeling is there like that inspired by these 
 
 [121] 
 
Clemenna'0 Crisis 
 
 dun-colored symbols of a nation's power? It is 
 not patriotism; not the hectic elation we feel for 
 countless uniforms and the martial tread of count- 
 less feet; not the joy that springs from tingling 
 brass. The army looks and sounds power and the 
 navy breathes it. Battleships are silent monitors 
 of sovereignty ! 
 
 If you have ever seen these ships stretched out 
 in single file, like some impregnable Gibraltars 
 of the sea, you have felt that dull sense of help- 
 lessness and oppression. They are the quin- 
 tessence of power. 
 
 Barrlngton had reported to the commander of 
 his squadron and remained aboard his ship until 
 the fleet was sighted. Then his duties, as master 
 of ceremonies ashore, took him back to the Hel- 
 tons and Clemencia. They had not seen him for 
 two days. On the morning of the third he joined 
 them and they motored early to Point Loma. 
 
 Through glasses they watched the skillful 
 maneuvering of the ships on their entrance into 
 the harbor. Nearer and nearer they came, and 
 then, amid the booming of cannon, sounded an 
 answering echo from the assembled thousands. 
 
 There followed the generous hospitality of 
 [ 122 ] 
 
Clemencja'0 Cri0i0 
 
 California — receptions, banquets and the preten- 
 tious gathering in the ballroom of the Coronado 
 Hotel. 
 
 A brass railing set off the big floor for the 
 dancers, and beyond this on soft, luxurious car- 
 pets were the easy chairs and card tables for 
 chaperons and less energetic if not less loyal 
 participants. 
 
 Flags and banners fluttered everywhere, ad- 
 mirals and precocious lieutenants danced or idled 
 side by side. 
 
 Harrington, as a matter of course, spent the 
 greater part of his time with the Heltons' party. 
 He had already danced twice with Clemencia, and 
 he had to be a prodigious tactician to accomplish 
 that, for no feminine contributor to the evening's 
 joy was in greater demand. Her singular type 
 and unusual beauty drew their toll. 
 
 Admiral Thomas, who had succeeded to the 
 command of the fleet when illness held " Fighting 
 Bob " Evans at Magdalena, claimed his share of 
 Miss Castellanos' attention, and there were many 
 " seconds in command " who did likewise. 
 
 But Barrington, in his full regalia, was not to be 
 ignored. If there was any match for Clemencia 
 [ 123] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 in that spacious room it was he, and that was 
 a fact that did not pass without comment. He 
 was dancing with her for the third time when 
 suddenly, offering fatigue as an excuse, she sug- 
 gested that they stop and step out to the balcony 
 for a breath of air. 
 
 [124] 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ON the balcony Barrington felt 
 the glamour of the night upon 
 him. The music floated upward in a 
 rapture of sound; through the open 
 window he saw the brilliant uniforms of the 
 officers, with their wealth of gold lace, and the 
 jeweled gowns of the women .as they swayed and 
 moved in the dance. But Clemencia seemed obliv- 
 ious to the sight. Her eyes were fixed on the long 
 path of moonlight in the foam-tipped waves of the 
 Pacific. Was it a silver pathway to the stars? 
 
 It seemed to the young naval lieutenant that 
 they had suddenly stepped out of a passion-swept 
 
 [I2S] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cn0i0 
 
 world into a misty life of dreams. Clemencia 
 wore her hair piled high upon her shapely head. 
 Her ivory-tinted face glowed with a light which 
 rivaled the pale glory of the moon. From her 
 filmy dress her matchless shoulders emerged as 
 though rising from a fleecy cloud. Her long, 
 white throat, her beautiful face framed in its 
 nimbus of sunny hair gave her a singularly 
 unearthly beauty. The costume she wore accentu- 
 ated her slenderness and through her gloves he 
 noticed her tapering hands. 
 
 As they stood listening to the strains of the 
 waltz, however, her face was immobile. He won- 
 dered, too, why she veiled her eyes so steadily 
 from him. But he saw that she was reluctant to 
 talk and so he determined that he would not be 
 the first to break the silence. At last with almost 
 a sigh she smiled up at him. 
 
 '' Thank you," she said softly. " Another 
 would not have understood, but you have not 
 spoken." 
 
 His heart bounded in gladness at the thought 
 that she appreciated his conception of her mood. 
 Her voice was full of subtle chords of music and 
 she was addressing him again. 
 
 [126] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 " Sometimes I wonder," she said, '' whether 
 life here is not rushing to a climax. Can this 
 turmoil which we call society, this mad excitement, 
 go on forever? '* 
 
 *' Do you mean to suggest enchanting possibili- 
 ties of greater pleasures or merely disaster, Miss 
 Castellanos? " he asked lightly, trying to fathom 
 her. 
 
 " Neither. But sometimes strange thoughts 
 crowd upon me in the midst of gayety, and tonight 
 I felt in there " — pointing toward the ballroom 
 — "I felt as if I should smother unless I could 
 escape." 
 
 She spoke with unusual feeling, and for a 
 moment he was at a loss how to reply. She did 
 not appear to notice this, however, and in a 
 moment she continued in a troubled way: 
 
 " Lieutenant Barrington, do you believe that 
 a promise sacredly given could ever be honorably 
 broken?" 
 
 For a moment his diplomacy deserted him. 
 Was it possible that she meant to speak of her 
 engagement? But, no. Before he found his voice 
 she continued hurriedly. " I mean if one believed 
 firmly in something all one's life and then found 
 
 [ 127] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cn0i0 
 
 it only a delusion, would that be sufficient reason 
 to desert a cause, to refuse to take a step which 
 others insisted was right?" 
 
 Harrington's thoughts were rushing quickly, 
 but as quietly as he could he commanded his voice 
 to slow utterance. 
 
 " If one was sure that the cause was worthy I 
 should say no. But if the delusion, as you call it, 
 were personal, could one honestly be a judge of 
 the cause? " 
 
 Her eyes opened widely for an instant in sur- 
 prise as she replied: 
 
 " Oh, yes ! Of that there could be no doubt. 
 There is merit in the cause, unquestionably so. But 
 if a personal note entered — say, for instance, the 
 happiness of one person alone became involved — 
 ought one to temporize with duty because of that? 
 That is the question I meant to ask." 
 
 He was quite sure now that she referred to her 
 engagement, but he dared not tell her what he 
 understood. She was unhappy, he had long known 
 that. But since she had so veiled her question, 
 had been so guarded in her speech, ought he 
 brusquely to show her that he knew the truth? 
 No. If she chose generalities he would stick to 
 
 [128] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cti0i0 
 
 them also. Any personal note in their conversa- 
 tion on that subject must come from her. But his 
 temples throbbed and his blood was rushing 
 madly. She did not love Sanchez. Why did this 
 thought give him endless joy? He felt that he 
 would be willing to lift mountains to gain a closer 
 insight into this woman's heart. 
 
 Why tonight of all nights, at the most brilliant 
 social affair of the season, had she chosen to tell 
 him even this much? Why had she let him catch 
 a glimpse of her unrest? Was it that the spirit 
 of this wonderful California night had caught her 
 as it had caught him? Did she feel the sea air 
 like iced wine tingling through her veins? Was 
 nature whispering to her as it was to him through 
 every blade of grass frosted with silver? Could 
 she hear ever and anon faint voices telling her 
 that the world was splendid and that youth was 
 glorious and that they two alone were listening to 
 these secrets? He leaned toward her, his face 
 glowing, though in the clear moonlight she could 
 see that his eyes were grave. 
 
 " Miss Castellanos," he said seriously, " I can- 
 not judge absolutely upon a subject of which you 
 choose to tell me so little. Naturally, an honor- 
 
 [ 129] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis 
 
 able man or woman will not repudiate a promise. 
 But I do believe that certain promises are rashly 
 made and should be retracted. May I tell you 
 a little story to illustrate what I mean? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " It is hard to begin," he said brusquely; 
 " harder than I thought, because until tonight I 
 have never told it to anyone. But somehow I 
 feel that I must tell it to you. I once stumbled 
 accidentally upon a great tragedy. I saw a 
 woman, young and unmistakably beautiful, bowed 
 down with such woe as I hope never again to see. 
 She was grief-stricken to the depth of her soul, 
 and I believe all through a mistaken view of life. 
 She would have been very happy. She chose to 
 be miserable." 
 
 Clemencia put out her gloved hand suddenly 
 and caught at the railing. He was surprised to 
 see how it trembled, 
 
 "Shall I go on?" he asked softly, observing 
 her agitation at his words, " or would you rather 
 that I did not? " 
 
 *' Oh," she said faintly, '' do not stop. I am 
 much interested. Who was the woman? " 
 
 " That I do not know. She was a Catholic 
 
 [ 130] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 nun, or rather she was a novice. She was still 
 free to choose the world, for she wore the white 
 veil of her convent. For some reason she was 
 quitting her cloister. That much I easily guessed." 
 
 He went on to relate his experience on the pass 
 near Santa Barbara, but finally said: "In spite 
 of the fact that the sudden sorrow which I acci- 
 dentally witnessed was too tragically pathetic to 
 be aught but real, instinct told me that it was 
 unnecessary grief. That woman, with the wealth 
 of golden hair, was utterly crushed by some 
 fancied woe. She had no right to suffer as she 
 did. Of that I am convinced." 
 
 "But you did not see her face!" she said 
 excitedly. " You say she did not speak to you! 
 How could you know? " 
 
 " True. She spoke not. But I touched her 
 hands and they spoke plainly. The thrill of 
 her soft, pliant fingers gave me the mystic sense 
 of her life. I knew as surely as I know that I 
 stand here that my instinct is true." 
 
 Clemencia dropped her head suddenly upon her 
 hands, but at his exclamation of alarm that she 
 might be ill she lifted it and said faintly: " No, 
 but your story has affected me, I admit. You 
 
 [131] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 speak so strangely, so authoritatively. Why, what 
 could a woman's hands say? " 
 
 " I don't know," he answered slowly. " Call 
 it the sixth sense, explain it as you please. But 
 they did speak to me, eloquently, appealingly. 
 They asked me for help so plainly that I could 
 scarcely keep from crying out the answer, and I 
 have wished a thousand times since that I had 
 done so." 
 
 " And her hands told you all of that? How 
 strange ! " She laughed softly, but her laugh was 
 not genuine. He detected the false note in it, and 
 when he spoke again it was in a sterner tone. 
 
 *' Yes, Senorita. They told me all that and 
 more. It was not alone that her hands were 
 beautiful. There was character in them. They 
 showed that her life could be great and full of 
 power. A woman with such hands had a right 
 to a life of her own choosing, a life full of beauti- 
 ful things designed and carried out by a superior 
 mind." Then after a pause he continued: " For- 
 give me if I have moved you by my sad story, 
 but the nun's pitiful tragedy touched me suddenly, 
 vitally. 
 
 " You are like that nun. Miss Castellanos. 
 
 [ 132 ] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Your own life you can make or mar. A single 
 misstep may be fatal. That novice was probably 
 no older than you in years, but, alas, her life lay 
 all behind her. Can you, at your age, face life 
 and live through the endless years, reaching out 
 even into eternity, through any mistaken sense of 
 a promise rashly made? Forgive me if I speak 
 earnestly, but I have watched you closely. You 
 are not happy. You make me think of that poor 
 novice, weeping in the dust. My resolutions to 
 ask no questions are failing me now. I would 
 prize your confidence as I would my soul." 
 
 He had spoken breathlessly, hurriedly, for his 
 emotions almost overpowered him. Now he 
 awaited her answer. 
 
 She was as pale as death, but when his appeal 
 ceased she rallied and regained her composure. 
 There was hauteur in her voice when she spoke 
 again. It was cool and had lost the soft timbre 
 of her confidential mood. She was again the 
 woman of the world, indifferent, smiling and 
 courteously distant. The crucial moment had 
 passed, and it struck the man with bitter force 
 that she had resented his personal note, showing 
 him plainly that she resented his question. No 
 
 [ 133 ] 
 
Clemencia'iS Cn0i0 
 
 amount of masculine endurance could bid him rise 
 above the situation, or pretend indifference to her 
 change of manner. He bowed silently and offered 
 her his arm. 
 
 [134] 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ONE sunlit morning a few days later San 
 Diego was shocked by news of a tragedy in 
 the strike-ridden district near Santa Barbara. An 
 explosion had occurred in the power-house of the 
 line which was an adjunct to the railroad managed 
 by Mr. Helton. The usual warning had failed 
 to come and three men had been killed. 
 
 Helton knew that the subsequent investigation 
 would require his personal attention, and as Har- 
 rington's immediate activities in behalf of the 
 fleet had been about completed the party of four 
 set back toward Santa Barbara that afternoon at 
 racing speed. 
 
 In this particular outrage Mr. Helton was 
 unusually concerned. One of the young men who 
 had lost his life had been a protege of his, a young 
 man whom he was educating and fostering for a 
 bigger work. His distress was communicated to 
 Barrington, and the young officer expressed a 
 
 [135] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 keen desire to assist In ferreting out the persons 
 who were really responsible for the disaster. 
 
 By the time they had finished their journey a 
 dozen or more arrests had been made and feeling 
 ran high. But the suspects were as stoical as ever. 
 Barrington had been with Helton all the morning 
 on the first day of the official Investigation. At 
 luncheon he was approached by a messenger whom 
 Helton recognized as an employe at Senor Cas- 
 tellanos' Santa Barbara office. 
 
 The note proved to be from Miss Morro, the 
 young secretary, and urged Barrington without 
 fall to meet her at 4 o'clock in the canyon back of 
 the San Isldoro Inn. The lieutenant did not relish 
 the appointment. He construed It as something 
 pertaining to her personal relations with Sanchez 
 and determined to make known his reluctance In 
 this matter In no uncertain terms. 
 
 When he reached the appointed place the girl 
 came toward him quickly. He was shocked at her 
 appearance. She had lost the air of bravado 
 which he had always associated with her, and her 
 face, pale and haggard, revealed unmistakable 
 suffering. 
 
 *' Thank you for coming, Senor," she said. 
 
 [136] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 " Senorlta, I came because you asked me, but, 
 Indeed, this affair between you and Senor Sanchez 
 is not for me to consider. I feel that this must 
 be our last interview upon the subject." 
 
 *' You said you would help me, Senor Barring- 
 ton. Will you refuse it now? " 
 
 " It is not that I am not willing, but I see no 
 reason for my interference." 
 
 " Oh, Senor," she exclaimed passionately, 
 " there is no justice in Sanchez. He will not listen 
 to me. Indeed, I am quite forgotten," and her 
 voice became choked with tears and almost 
 inaudible. 
 
 Barrington knew that Sanchez was a villain, 
 but would it console the girl to tell her so? 
 
 " In one breath I hate him, Senor, and feel that 
 I will confront him with the proofs of his crimi- 
 nality in my possession. But in the next I love 
 him and cannot bring myself to betray him." 
 
 " Senorita, you have spoken before of this guilt. 
 Of what is he guilty? " 
 
 " I had intended to tell you on your return from 
 Coronado Beach. But I cannot make up my mind 
 to betray him now." 
 
 '' Why, then, did you send for me? " 
 
 [ 137] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis 
 
 '* Even that I cannot explain without a betrayal 
 of what under the circumstances I now think best 
 to conceal." 
 
 " You have no thought of the right and wrong 
 of the subject? " he asked gravely. 
 
 *' I think only of the way it will affect him," 
 she cried. '* I would destroy all proof of his guilt 
 if he would take me before the priest tomorrow." 
 
 " Miss Morro, you know that that is not an 
 argument." 
 
 " I am no moralist." 
 
 " But you must have a conscience." 
 
 '' Not where he is concerned." 
 
 The girl concealed her face with her hands and 
 burst into tears. " Oh, Senor," she sobbed, " I 
 am utterly miserable! " 
 
 " Come, come," said Harrington. '' Perhaps 
 after all you are exaggerating the importance of 
 the affair. Since you will not let me help, though, 
 speak to Sanchez. Tell him plainly to make a 
 clean breast of things. That always goes a great 
 way toward helping even the guilty man." 
 
 She looked up suddenly and her eyes glittered 
 with tears. 
 
 " You hate him," she cried, " and though I 
 
 [138] 
 
Clemencia's Cn0i0 
 
 came to you longing for your help I do not like 
 your advice." 
 
 " True, I do not like him," replied Harrington 
 gravely, '' but I would try to be fair even with 
 my enemy. My advice is sincere." 
 
 '* Confession might hang him," she said, " and 
 I will not betray him. No, Senor, you could not 
 be really fair toward a man whom you hate. After 
 all I shall trust only myself. I know that Sanchez 
 is untrue to me," she added, " but I cannot tear 
 love for him from my heart. It will be wiser for 
 me to keep my own secrets." 
 
 And so they parted, with Barrington none the 
 wiser as to her real motive for summoning him, 
 but he was vitally more interested. 
 
 [ 139] 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 IT is fascinating to watch day by day the devel- 
 opment of a human soul. One recognizes 
 every shade of feeling from the slightest sense of 
 depression to the greatest height of enthusiasm, 
 and though Barrington was in a stage of dispas- 
 sionate sympathy — so he himself declared — his 
 emotional control was severely taxed. He was 
 alive to the privilege of his acquaintance with Miss 
 Castellanos. Their natures were congenial, and 
 though their point of view was often widely dis- 
 similar the fact only accentuated their interest in 
 each other's presence. 
 
 What a lasting bond of love or friendship is 
 this faculty for interesting argument. One cannot 
 live on the heights forever and be nourished. 
 Amiable disagreement makes famiHar association 
 truly delightful. Dull and witless conversation 
 will pall upon the most devoted couple. 
 
 A man of any sentiment whatever cannot be 
 thrown into companionship with a charming 
 
 [ 140] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 woman without feeling some interest in her. He 
 need not, necessarily, be in love, but to sit with 
 her hour after hour in the sun-sweetened air of 
 California and not succumb to her charm would 
 prove him bloodless. Though Barrington believed 
 his affections were well under control he did not 
 deny that Clemencia was marvelously alluring. 
 On the night of the ball he had been quite sure 
 that he was about to look into her heart, quite 
 certain that her bare soul was about to be revealed 
 to him. But she had suddenly called it back. 
 
 As if by mutual consent the subject of her 
 engagement was ignored. He could fight for his 
 own in the open, could face her lover with a clear 
 conscience if she were willing. But she had shown 
 him plainly that she did not seek his interference. 
 Unhappy as he believed her to be over her 
 promise to this other man he could not flatter 
 himself that he was the one to remedy her dis- 
 content. And no matter from what angle the 
 young officer studied Clemencia she seemed always 
 shrouded in her air of mystery. It was as if a 
 halo enveloped her and she was unwilling for 
 anyone to step within its sacred boundary. 
 
 Barrington for a man of his precision and 
 
 [141] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 hardy instincts was strangely softened by her 
 words. One morning they were discussing life in 
 its various phases. " Fate," said the officer, " is 
 after all but a rose in the garden of life and its 
 petals fall one by one for man. For some the 
 leaves flutter lightly to the ground without con- 
 fusion and there is no discord in their lives. But 
 for others they scatter in storm clouds, carrying 
 dark shadows as they go. But," he added lightly, 
 " after all that I do not believe in those time-worn 
 superstitions of bad luck for the owners of opals 
 and pearls, do you?" 
 
 "Who really believes anything?" she smiled 
 back. " Life is only a chapter of accidents and 
 environments. Blood and instinct are inherited. 
 The oversensitive, highstrung temperament, 
 worked up to nervous tension, sees ghosts, while 
 matter-of-fact, prosaic souls laugh unbelief." 
 
 " Not always," he retorted. " They say that 
 instinct is only the refuge of the ignorant. But 
 I know a man of superior intellect, a dabbler in 
 science, and authority on mathematical problems, 
 who once had an unheard-of experience. It was 
 remarkable in itself, but peculiarly so because it 
 happened to this particular man." 
 
 [142] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 As he spoke he bent over and plucked a spray 
 of Cecil Bruno roses. Their eyes met as he raised 
 his head and for a moment neither spoke. He 
 leaned forward and dropped the flowers softly in 
 her lap. She raised the tiny pink blossoms to her 
 face, laying them across her cheek. Then she 
 pinned them at her breast. 
 
 " Your friend's experience," she said quietly. 
 "What was it?" 
 
 [143] 
 

 >«"^,- 
 
 "^»^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 " ^T^HE man," Harrington began, " as I told 
 A you, was a calm and placid individual who 
 was generally absorbed in his dry problems. He 
 was nearing forty, had a charming wife and two 
 daughters who were just entering their teens. At 
 the time of this singular happening they were all 
 with him in Marquette, Michigan, spending two 
 weeks at a summer hotel. 
 
 ** One morning at five o'clock he was suddenly 
 awakened. Determining that it was too early to 
 arise, he said: ' I can still sleep a couple of 
 hours.* Almost instantly, however, he was con- 
 scious of a most curious sensation. He was not 
 
 [ 144] 
 
Clemencia'n Crt^ff 
 
 asleep, but It seemed to him as if his soul was 
 slowly leaving his body, and gradually he saw 
 himself distinctly, lying In his bed, peaceful and 
 calm, while his conscious self, his spirit, was slowly 
 rising. 
 
 " He felt himself borne higher and higher until 
 he was caught in a swift current of air. It rushed 
 him along with tremendous speed. He could feel 
 the tingling of the cold blast, but he had no sensa- 
 tion that was disagreeable. His only impression 
 was that of bewilderment. Where was he going? 
 What was to be his destination? He was con- 
 scious that he had no control over himself. He 
 believed himself hovering somewhere between 
 heaven and earth, but he felt powerless to resist. 
 
 " Suddenly he saw in the distance an object 
 advancing rapidly toward him. As it came closer 
 he perceived It was a white-robed figure. Nearer 
 and nearer it came until he could discern that it 
 was a woman In a long white gown with clouds of 
 loose hair floating about her. She was very beau- 
 tiful and had a wonderful serenity of countenance. 
 * I shall never forget that face if I live a thousand 
 years,' he told me. ' In Its pale, solemn beauty 
 I would recognize it in heaven or hell ! ' 
 
 [ 145 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i$ 
 
 *' Looking squarely Into his eyes as she passed 
 him this spirit woman said: 'Twenty-six of us 
 were drowned an hour ago off the coast of New- 
 foundland. I was the only woman.' So speaking 
 she passed swiftly on. 
 
 '' In a moment he was wide awake. It was then 
 just five minutes after five. It had all happened 
 in five minutes. 
 
 " At breakfast he related the experience to his 
 wife and daughters. Of course, they called it a 
 dream. It was so vivid, however, that though in 
 a measure he shared their belief, he thought and 
 spoke of it constantly. 
 
 " You can imagine the astonishment and dismay 
 of this man and his family when a day later flar- 
 ing headlines in the morning papers proclaimed 
 a tragedy exactly of the kind I have just described 
 to you. The details of the disaster were precisely 
 the same as they had been pictured to this man. 
 Twenty-six souls went down on a small ship — all 
 she held — and the only woman aboard was the 
 captain's young and beautiful wife. 
 
 " But the most curious part of the story to me 
 is — why should my friend have had the fact 
 communicated to him an hour after the disaster? 
 
 [146] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 He did not even know of the woman's existence. 
 If the communication was psychic — and it could 
 have been nothing else — why should a person 
 have been selected who had never heard of these 
 poor people, who had no knowledge of any kind 
 about them? 
 
 " The type my friend represented made it a 
 most remarkable case. The only possible explana- 
 tion was that his soul did actually leave his body 
 and was wandering in space when it came face to 
 face with this girl victim as she was making her 
 long journey; and just because they met, just 
 because of contact and for no other reason, she 
 told her story. No previous, no future connection 
 was necessary.'' 
 
 Clemencia's face showed varied emotions. She 
 had sat immovable while her companion related 
 his strange story. She saw that he awaited some 
 response. 
 
 " It seems unbelievable," she murmured, but 
 her words belied her real feeling. 
 
 " I grant you that," the young officer responded, 
 '* but it is true, and to all of us revelations have 
 come that seem scarcely less marvelous." 
 
 *' But surely, Lieutenant Barrlngton, amid these 
 
 [147] 
 
Clemencia'^ Criniu 
 
 flowers and sunshine you would not dare declare 
 your belief in such tales! " 
 
 He regarded her earnestly. A cool salt wind 
 straight from the sea blew toward them as he 
 leaned nearer. 
 
 " I would and do," he said firmly. 
 
 She paled and shifted her eyes from his in 
 nervous manner. 
 
 '* Come," he added in a more spirited tone, 
 '' we are distressing ourselves with a mysterious 
 and gloomy subject. It is scarcely in accord with 
 the brightness of our environment. Let me tell 
 you something more cheerful. I have arranged 
 with Mrs. Helton for a long, glorious day in the 
 mountains — the kind of a day you so love. But 
 I must strike a bargain with you before I make 
 you a party to this jaunt — " 
 
 " Really, Lieutenant Harrington," Clemencia 
 interrupted, " I did not know I sought the honor." 
 
 " You haven't, but you will," he laughed. Then, 
 seriously, he continued: " I want to ask you a 
 question. It may be pertinent or impertinent, as 
 you interpret it. Tell me, won't you. Miss Castel- 
 lanos, why you so persistently evade discussion 
 of such a subject as we have just brought up? '* 
 [148] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 A shaft of sunshine filtering through the helio- 
 trope trees flickered across her face. He saw her 
 pale and again he witnessed that refuge In reserve 
 by which she always thwarted his attempted 
 Intimacies. 
 
 The same helpless feeling came over him as 
 when, that night on the balcony, he had offered 
 his arm while his heart beat angry defiance. 
 
 " Honestly, Lieutenant Harrington, I cannot 
 even conjecture what you mean," she taunted. 
 
 The falsity of tone was obvious, while the 
 strange solemnity of her manner Impressed him, 
 too. But he persisted: 
 
 " I have noticed, too," he stumbled on, '* that 
 you often enter Into frivolous environment appar- 
 ently against your will. Am I right in that obser- 
 vation? " 
 
 Her answer took him off his guard. 
 
 " You are," she said quietly. " You are a keen 
 observer and in this case, at least, you are correct." 
 
 " You mean that you do not care for society as 
 we have come to know that word? " 
 
 " Exactly that." 
 
 " Why, then, do you mingle in it? " 
 
 Her answer was bafflLng. '' I thought everyone 
 
 [ 149 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri^isi 
 
 knew that," she said. " Chiefly it is because I 
 will shortly see no more of it and of my friends." 
 
 " But surely marriage will not debar you from 
 society! " 
 
 " Marriage I " she exclaimed. " Lieutenant 
 Harrington, I have no thought of marriage!" 
 Then after a momentary pause she added: "I 
 think a curse would come upon me if I had." 
 
 Miss Morro's words ! Why had this girl used 
 them, too? He leaned toward her eagerly. 
 
 " You are not betrothed to Senor Sanchez 
 then?" 
 
 The question brought Clemencia to her feet. 
 
 " A thousand times no ! What on earth 
 prompted such a question? " 
 
 His heart leaped with gladness. " But," he 
 persisted, " surely, Mrs. Helton told me that you 
 were." 
 
 " Impossible. You misunderstood her. My 
 betrothal is not to him — not to any man." Her 
 voice was low and tremulous. 
 
 "Not to any man?" he echoed, completely 
 mystified. "Why — " 
 
 *' It is to the church! " 
 
 The bright sunlight seemed to fade away. 
 
 [150] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 Though Barrlngton's brain was clear he breathed 
 as if he were In a London fog. His eyes remained 
 on her face so long that she flushed and stam- 
 mered out some trivial question. He was uncon- 
 scious of It, however. He did not even hear her. 
 
 It seemed to him that a thousand pin points 
 were sticking In his heart and that he was being 
 consumed by a great white heat. Later he became 
 aware that she was expecting him to speak. A 
 surge of compassion for her and for himself swept 
 over him, but suddenly it vanished. In an Instant 
 he understood, and he cried hoarsely: 
 
 " You are the nun I saw weeping and of whom 
 I told you that night on the balcony! " 
 
 She bowed her head, nodding a slight affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 And so It was really she — the girl of his 
 dreams and of his desire were one and the same ! 
 
 Again he saw the green branches of the pepper 
 tree and between the leaves the berries shining 
 like drops of blood. He saw the white clouds 
 above lying against the blue of the heavens. He 
 saw again that wondrous veil of golden hair, cov- 
 ering the quivering body of a forlorn, unhappy 
 woman. 
 
 [151] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " You recognized me then? " he asked and his 
 voice grew stern. 
 
 " Yes, I knew you from the first." 
 
 " And you deliberately concealed your identity, 
 even when I told you the story of the nun, and 
 allowed me to think that you were engaged to your 
 cousin! " 
 
 "Why! " she cried, with rising resentment at 
 his manner — " why, I see no reason why I should 
 have told you." 
 
 " Good God," he said impetuously, " you see 
 no reason. Is it possible a woman can be so blind 
 as to what a man might feel? " 
 
 He was lashed into anger and his pride was 
 outraged that she should sit so calmly before him 
 after such a confession. But as he saw her look 
 of half fear, half anguish as she listened his face 
 grew less stern. Yielding to the impulse of the 
 moment he seized the soft hands that lay so limply 
 in her lap and drew her to him with a strong 
 man's force. But the look that met his unnerved 
 him and he quickly released her. 
 
 [152] 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THERE was no doubt that Barrington had 
 found Clemencia's admission appalling. 
 Life suddenly presented a new perspective. His 
 whole spirit revolted at her quiet acquiescence to 
 a role that was alien to her, but he aroused him- 
 self to as cheerful a viewpoint as he could sum- 
 mon. 
 
 " You're not bound yet," he reasoned, at 
 another meeting, " and your hair is glorious." 
 
 " My vow is irrevocable," she said with dignity, 
 ignoring his bold personality, and although he 
 murmured an apology his heart stood still at her 
 words. 
 
 "Irrevocable? Why?" 
 
 " Oh, not my vow to the church. A woman 
 is free to return to the world all the years of her 
 novitiate. The black veil alone cloisters her. But 
 the pledge I made years ago to my grandmother 
 is just as sacred, just as binding." 
 
 " No," he argued, " there you are wrong. 
 
 [153] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cn0i0 
 
 Again I am taking up arms In the controversy. 
 One vow Is far less binding than the other, and I 
 will prove it." 
 
 Her tale had been peculiarly solemn In Its per- 
 fect simplicity. Her grandmother, lavishing love 
 In her cold, unbending way, had painted to her the 
 perplexities and snares of an unguarded girl In 
 the world. 
 
 She had pictured to her what she might accom- 
 plish by her dedication to religion and to the 
 romantic mind of the young girl It carried the 
 thrill of mysticism. The glamour of this prema- 
 ture surrender of will had caused her to purge 
 herself of all worldly desires before she was six- 
 teen. Her grandmother, taking advantage of this 
 youthful enthusiasm, demanded and received her 
 oath to accept the spiritual. 
 
 Manuel Sanchez had fostered the thought in 
 her, too, for the day of her Immurement would 
 mark the senora's gift of a fortune to him. She 
 planned to give him a slice of her wealth before 
 insuring the rest to the church, and this would be 
 done only when Clemencia was safe in the con- 
 vent. 
 
 This niggardly desire for wealth on Manuel's 
 
 [154] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0{0 
 
 part had kept him closely In touch with the girl, 
 fostering her devotion to the convent. But it 
 had led to his own undoing, for he ended by lov- 
 ing her in his evil way, and of late had tried to 
 persuade her to give it all up and marry him. 
 
 Mrs. Helton had seen Harrington's misinter- 
 pretation of her words regarding Clemencia's 
 engagement, but she felt that unless the girl saw 
 fit to tell him of her oath she would not. There- 
 fore Harrington had easily made the mistake of 
 supposing Clemencia engaged to her cousin. 
 
 Padre Galvez made scornful analysis of Cle- 
 mencia's childish oath, but both women were 
 unconvinced by his arguments, regarding the 
 promise as binding. Educated along these lines, 
 is it to be wondered that Clemencia acquired a 
 certain exaltation of purpose and believed she 
 could benefit humanity by her step? 
 
 Barrington was a Catholic with a pride in his 
 Catholic ancestry that only a man of Irish blood 
 could appreciate. But Clemencia's devotion and 
 determination in this case somehow seemed 
 bigotry. He was haunted by the memory of unrest 
 he had so often seen in her eyes and in some inex- 
 plicable manner he felt sure she would escape if 
 
 [155] 
 
Clemencfa's; Cn0i0 
 
 she could do so honorably. Dimly through the 
 storm and stress Into which her confession had 
 thrown him his soul was fighting to reach her 
 level. There face to face on the heights once 
 more he would tell her the truth. The life she 
 had planned was beautiful for many, but for her 
 It was all unsulted. 
 
 I 
 
 ■^ w 
 
 [156] 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 OPPOSITION to Clemencia's desire to 
 become a nun, strange as it may seem, 
 came from Padre Galvez. This holy man at the 
 head of a great religious institution had been 
 drawn to its life from firm convictions, and when 
 he arose at dawn and followed his brethren into 
 the chapel where he celebrated mass it was to 
 begin a busy day. His brain was like a clear flame. 
 It was filled with lofty thoughts inspired by his 
 great mission. 
 
 To him his church was a badge, an ornament. 
 The cross meant consolation for humanity. He 
 was a monk, but there was no limitation of power 
 in his strength. He was a leader of men. His 
 word roused them to action and to better deeds. 
 Padre Galvez saw that it was unwise for Clemen- 
 cia to enter the convent at an early age, and he 
 had said often to the senora that he was not sure 
 that she should enter It at all. 
 
 " I know the feminine heart in matters of doing 
 
 [157] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cr{0i0 
 
 penance," he said. *' I know also how easily 
 religious enthusiasm Is fired. But Clemencia has 
 had her standard thrust upon her." 
 
 " Even so," the senora retorted. " Do you not 
 realize that she will be protected against the 
 mighty temptations of the world? " 
 
 " No, I believe in the justice of God. He does 
 not weigh our bad deeds against the splendid per- 
 fection of the martyrs' lives. He allows for our 
 moral height and will judge us accordingly. In 
 the world, loving and honoring her church, Cle- 
 mencia could be as shining a light as the saintly 
 nun." 
 
 " But," argued the senora, " Clemencia could 
 do more good for the eternal church by going into 
 the convent." 
 ' Padre Galvez shook his head. 
 
 " Not so. I am an old man. I live beneath the 
 moldy walls my honored brethren built. Yet great 
 as has been the work of these splendid priests for 
 God, in my soul I feel that the woman who raises 
 her children to glorify and honor Him is great, 
 too." 
 
 Thus they argued the matter, and with usually 
 the same conclusion. " If Clemencia Is really 
 
 [158] 
 
Clemenda'0 Crisis 
 
 destined to bear the cross I will gladly see her 
 there," he said. " But she herself must choose 
 the way." 
 
 The clang of the mission bells was music to 
 Padre Galvez' ears. His work was dearer to 
 him than life itself, but though the stains of time 
 were deep upon his face he had not forgotten his 
 youth. Looking back across the years the mem- 
 ories of those days were very beautiful. True it 
 was so long now it seemed to him the white sea 
 mist had crept in between to soften the view. But 
 all his being responded to those memories. The 
 fire of youth still echoed in his heart. And he was 
 determined Clemencia should have her chance. 
 This was why he would not allow her to begin her 
 novitiate till she was twenty-one. 
 
 [159] 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 FOR days following that scene in the garden 
 Barrington discussed her religious zeal with 
 Clemencia, but mostly from purely an abstract 
 standpoint and often with a smile upon his lips. 
 But of late he had once or twice forgotten his 
 role. He could not always keep absolute com- 
 mand over himself, especially when he could see 
 that distressed look in her eyes. 
 
 One night as he sat thinking he realized what 
 the last few days had meant to him. In his 
 splendor of love now revealed he was conscious 
 only of a great gladness. So long as he believed 
 that Clemencia belonged to another he would not 
 admit it even to himself. But now in the knowl- 
 edge of her worldly freedom his eyes were opened. 
 
 Young as he was, he had, like most men, experi- 
 enced love's illusions. But, like breath on a mir- 
 ror, they had disappeared quickly. But this was 
 different. Qemencia was the one woman for 
 whom he had waited, and now when he had found 
 [i6o] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 her the church — his church — stood between him 
 and happiness. 
 
 He knew, of course, that In rare cases the pope 
 had annulled the chains which bound a nun even 
 after the veil had been taken. But he knew, also, 
 that If Clemencia once stood before the altar and 
 consecrated herself to God nothing on earth could 
 tempt her to ask his holiness' aid. And yet with 
 all this there was a song In his heart which seemed 
 to uplift him and to say: 
 
 " Set her free ! She does not understand the 
 closing of her beautiful young life, and although 
 In the convent she might never awaken, never 
 come to know all that she had missed In the per- 
 fection of attained womanhood, why should not 
 you be the Siegfried to awaken this Brunhllde with 
 a kiss?" 
 
 If sleep came to him at all that night It brought 
 no refreshment. His pulses throbbed to the beat 
 of his heart during all the long hours of the night. 
 Not until the gray streaks of dawn lighted his 
 windows did he drop Into uneasy slumber. 
 
 In the morning he recalled that It was the day 
 selected for the long ride to Shepherd's Inn, from 
 which, after supper, they were to make the return 
 [i6i] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis! 
 
 by moonlight. How joyously he had looked for- 
 ward to this mountain picnic! But now it seemed 
 that love and sorrow had come to him simultane- 
 ously and that fate had chosen the most cruel 
 moment to reveal to him the secrets of his heart. 
 Outside in the warm winter sunshine the birds 
 were making delicious music. Wherever he looked 
 beauty lay revealed. That wonderful charm 
 which nature holds in the early morning hours 
 for those who seek her took possession of him 
 and gave him new strength. On the wings of all 
 this color and beauty a message promising invis- 
 ible power was borne to him, and it seemed that 
 he knew already that the cry of his soul would 
 be answered. 
 
 tl62] 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE crisp morning air imbued their mounts 
 with unusual zest, and somehow the 
 Heltons' steeds seemed a little more energetic 
 than the others. They led the way a hundred 
 paces or so ahead of Clemencia and Barrington. 
 The jolly party skirted the ranches with charming 
 houses nestling among the orange, lemon, and 
 apricot orchards. Pear trees white with foamy 
 blossoms, peach trees with their tints of sunset 
 pink fluttered on all sides. Occasionally they 
 caught a glimpse of the mountains tinged with 
 amethyst and the exquisite blue of the sky. A 
 joyous little band they were. Now and then a 
 melody arose from some particularly happy one, 
 whose refrain would be echoed in chorus by the 
 rest. 
 
 The dinner at Shepherd's Inn was fraught with 
 the many pleasantries of the moment. Its con- 
 clusion and the waning of the day brought a 
 gentler mood. Barrington suggested to Clemencia 
 
 [163] 
 
Mountains tinged with amethyst and the exquisite 
 blue of the sky 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 that they climb one of the cliffs for a better view 
 of the setting sun. She assented, and presently 
 they had gained the steep and stood upon a little 
 platform of rock high on the cliff. 
 
 The girl's cheeks were like roses from the 
 climb. She was hatless and her beautiful hair, 
 looking as though it had been borrowed from the 
 sun, crowned her low forehead in little rippling 
 waves of light. She seemed to him the embodi- 
 ment of perfect womanhood. 
 
 The man gained courage to speak. He argued 
 for the greatness of the church. He spoke of the 
 flawless life of the nun who is called to lead the 
 life and of the mistaken zeal of those who ever 
 enter it without the divine spark. He tried to 
 show that among those the church claimed as 
 saints many had sought the world, and that those 
 spotless souls had not lowered their standards 
 by entering its whirlpool. On the contrary, they 
 had held the highest crowns as saints and martyrs. 
 
 *' I believe," he said, " that with the abilities 
 you possess and the wealth at your command, 
 your work would be larger and of infinitely more 
 value in the world you propose to desert than 
 behind the doors of the convent you seek." 
 
 [i6s] 
 
Clemencia'0 €11010 
 
 " I do not agree with you," she replied slowly, 
 *' for I believe that in the world obstacles would 
 arise to divert my purposes. My very Intentions 
 would be changed, wiped out as it were, and my 
 purpose defeated." 
 
 He smiled grimly. '* I have a strong suspicion 
 that your argument would not stand in court. 
 You would have a large sphere in the world. 
 The rich soil in a woman's nature cannot be cov- 
 ered up with the rules and regulations of convent 
 life and yet breed fertility for the needs of the 
 world of which she had absolutely no knowledge." 
 
 " Perhaps it Is not necessary that I should know. 
 I shall have good advisers, and after all a woman, 
 even In the world, must trust such." 
 
 '' Not such a woman as you," he answered 
 boldly. '' At the risk of paying you a compli- 
 ment, I must say that. But we are speaking too 
 seriously to mince our words. Your future use- 
 fulness and activity depend upon yourself and 
 no adviser. Moreover, in the convent your power 
 of idealism would be killed. You could not rise 
 to the heights an intimacy with current events 
 would arouse. Your best efforts and energies 
 would always be curbed." 
 
 [166] 
 
Clemenda'0 Crisis 
 
 The girl was silent. Just the semblance of a 
 frown passed over her usually unclouded brow. 
 When at last she broke the silence she spoke In 
 low, decisive tones. 
 
 " It Is not pleasant to have your chosen Idol 
 abused as you are doing mine. But In your mad 
 haste to decry the quiet of my cloister and uphold 
 the devotion to the world you live In you give no 
 hint of the minor caprices which absorb the hours 
 there. You draw your picture of freedom and 
 power, yet all that I have heard and seen there 
 makes me fear for Its slavish laws. It is only a 
 change of masters," she ended gravely, " and I 
 prefer mine." 
 
 " You talk unknowingly because you have been 
 brought up In universal Ignorance. There are 
 subtle and Imperative wants to be met In the world 
 and true womanhood Is crying out Its needs. But, 
 alas! few answer the call, and If women such as 
 you fail their sisters In their hour of need what Is 
 to become of your sex? " 
 
 " No," she said, violently agitated and losing 
 for the moment her self-control. " The career 
 you paint could never be for me. I am too igno- 
 rant — too inexperienced. But even were I con- 
 
 [167] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crf0i0 
 
 vinced that the world needed me, all these reasons 
 are nothing before the overpowering one which 
 has dominated me always, my bond, my compact, 
 call It what you will. It cannot be broken." 
 
 [i68] 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 FOR a few minutes neither spoke, and it was 
 Harrington's voice that broke the stillness. 
 
 ** Is your grandmother, then, so unreasonable? 
 In this day and generation no one has the right 
 to bind another, and you, you surely are too 
 sensible to keep a foolish, childish oath. You 
 cannot compromise with God. If you know that 
 you cannot be happy in the cloister you have no 
 right to seek its shelter. You call me foolish to 
 intrude, to interrupt a life like yours, dedicated 
 to calmness and repose. Good God! Do you 
 think that I have not fought a battle, too? To 
 leave you to seek your own destruction when I 
 know now that in your heart you hesitate? It is 
 more than mortal man could promise." 
 
 *' What right have you to assume that I hesi- 
 tate? " she said, her face deathly pale. 
 
 He leaned toward her. His face became as 
 white as her own. 
 
 ** The right every man has who loves a woman 
 
 [169] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i$ 
 
 and, loving her, knows her as I know you. I 
 knew from the moment I saw you that you were 
 unhappy. I thought It was because of your engage- 
 ment to your cousin. I was confirmed in my 
 belief of your unhappiness on the night of the 
 ball, when for a moment you opened your heart 
 to me. I have known it a hundred times since. 
 Dare you deny it? " 
 
 She seemed really frightened, but she struggled 
 for composure to reply. Her voice, when it came, 
 was distinct and vibrant with anger. 
 
 " Lieutenant Harrington," she said, " you have 
 talked to me as no one has ever dared to talk 
 before, and I deny your right to question or to 
 think of me at all." 
 
 But his passion equaled hers. He saw that at 
 last he had touched her. 
 
 " I cannot reason whether it is right or wrong," 
 he said. " I only know that my heart cries out 
 for you — that I love you with every drop of 
 blood in my body. And though you bar me 
 entrance to your heart I still will not see you 
 sacrifice yourself if I can prevent it. You cannot 
 blast my love from your existence. It is a part of 
 me, and though it may never become a part of 
 
 [ 170] 
 
Clemenna's! Ctl0is 
 
 you I would steal you from the convent itself to 
 save you." 
 
 Clemencia was numbed by the violence of his 
 speech. Yet, despite her horror, she was con- 
 scious that her own heart beat so loudly that she 
 feared he would hear it. She felt his exhilaration. 
 She knew he had read her rightly, had spoken 
 the truth, and, like the primitive woman, her 
 spirit took pride in his strength and power, and 
 her heart leaped out to meet his. But outwardly 
 she was calm. She would give no hint which 
 would betray her; but he, fearing her protesta- 
 tions, said hurriedly: 
 
 " It is too late. I cannot draw back now and 
 will not. I will fight to gain your love even in 
 the face of your anger. And, Miss Castellanos, 
 you have given me the right to fight for you." 
 
 [171] 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 CLEMENCIA remained silent. Never 
 before had she faced a man who was so 
 moved and who so moved her. His intense 
 manner and vehement words carried her along 
 with him. At first she had been shocked, but 
 now she was caught in the current of his feeling. 
 At his last sentence she drew back as though she 
 had been struck. In a voice scarcely above a 
 whisper she said: 
 
 " I do not understand. When did I give you 
 permission to fight for me? " 
 
 " You once declared to me that you did not 
 believe in mental telepathy, Senorita. Look me 
 squarely in the eyes and make your denial now." 
 
 Clemencia trembled violently. Barrington 
 leaned forward and caught her arms in a nervous 
 grip. She snatched away and said: 
 
 " You speak in riddles — I do not sense your 
 meaning." 
 
 " Are you sure that you do not? " 
 
 [ 172] 
 
Clemencia's; Cri0i0 
 
 The girl stared at him blankly and seemed 
 unable to reply. 
 
 Barrington, taking advantage of her silence, 
 went on: 
 
 '' Then listen — I will offer ho explanation of 
 what I am about to say to you because none pre- 
 sents itself to me. I will simply tell you facts. 
 Three nights before I met you you appeared to 
 me in a dream. You told me that you were in 
 great distress and begged me to save you from 
 some calamitous happening which seemed about 
 to befall you." 
 
 Clemencia's face crimsoned and she covered it 
 with her hands. She was silent. 
 
 He went on: 
 
 *' I have often wondered whether you, too, had 
 been conscious that you appeared to me in that 
 dream. More than once I have referred to it. 
 Each time your manner led me to believe that 
 perhaps you already understood what I was trying 
 to reveal. I shall conceal nothing now. I shall 
 lay bare my heart." 
 
 Clemencia drew her hands away from her face. 
 She haughtily threw back her head as if his implied 
 compliment was distasteful to her, but her cheeks 
 
 [ 173 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 were colorless and her agitation was apparent. 
 Barrlngton seemed not to notice it and under the 
 stress of his feelings scarcely paused in his recital. 
 
 " Even before that dream, Miss Castellanos, 
 you had already appealed to me for aid, although 
 I did not at once connect the two experiences." 
 
 *' You mean when — " she began. Harrington 
 interrupted her quickly. 
 
 ** I mean when, in the garb of a nun, you were 
 kneeling in the dust and I helped you to your feet." 
 
 Clemencia broke out defiantly: 
 
 " No! No! I did not speak one word! " 
 
 " That is true," he interrupted rapidly. " You 
 spoke no word, yet I am sure you were conscious 
 of the asking." 
 
 The man expected a storm of denial, but it did 
 not break. After a moment, in which Clemencia 
 struggled to regain her composure, she spoke to 
 him. Her voice was calm. 
 
 " You are right. Lieutenant Barrington. On 
 that occasion I did ask your aid in just the manner 
 which you have suggested." 
 
 " You were conscious, then, of making the 
 appeal?" Barrington spoke sternly. 
 
 " I was conscious of doing so." 
 
 [174] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Then why have you practically denied it 
 tome?" 
 
 " Because I was afraid." 
 
 "Of what?" he asked eagerly. ''And why 
 did you choose me, a stranger, to ask for help? " 
 
 " I cannot explain — I was desperate, I sup- 
 pose. I had a premonition of disaster when the 
 nuns left me. It seemed to me that I was sur- 
 rounded by hateful, screaming harpies crying, 
 ' Go back to the convent ! ' In my excess of terror 
 and nervousness I broke down and at that moment 
 you stood before me. My silent cry for help was 
 impulsive. I willed that you should understand 
 me. I knew that such things had been done and 
 that sometimes wordless thoughts are exchanged 
 between persons. And — and — that is all! " 
 
 The girl was pitiful in her distress. Barring- 
 ton's heart yearned for her, and for a moment 
 he wavered in his purpose. He did not wish to 
 insist on further revelations, but how was he to 
 help her if he spared her at this time? He felt 
 that he had a right to demand more, and in spite 
 of her evident distress he went on: 
 
 " You surely called me in the dream that 
 night — did you see me as I saw you? " 
 
 [I7S] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 The girl humbly nodded an affirmative. 
 
 '' Then before I met you at the Heltons' you 
 knew of the dream?" 
 
 " Yes/' 
 
 " I thought so," he answered. " It was tele- 
 pathic! " There was a note of elation and tri- 
 umph in his voice. 
 
 A great fatigue seemed to possess Clemencia, 
 and when she spoke it was in a slow, tired voice. 
 
 " When I found that you had answered my 
 first appeal, there on the edge of the desert, I 
 realized that I possessed the power to call you 
 to my side, and so I said to myself, ' I will tell 
 him more tonight.' Therefore, after every one 
 had retired, I went into the library and sent my 
 imperative call to you." 
 
 "You saw me?" 
 
 " As well as I do at this moment. You stood 
 before me and spoke to me." 
 
 *' And with this miracle between us, this proof 
 of a sympathy so deep that master minds cannot 
 explain it, you dare deny me the right to answer 
 those calls? " 
 
 " Oh, Lieutenant Barrington," cried the girl, 
 strugghng for composure, " what does it all sig- 
 
 [176] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cri0i0 
 
 nify? Only that in a moment of weakness I 
 yielded to temptation, a yielding which I now 
 heartily regret." 
 
 *' It proves," he answered, " that you are about 
 to make a terrible mistake. It proves that should 
 you become the church's bride you will commit a 
 crime, because you realize you were sincere both 
 times when you called for help, and that your 
 heart does not belong to the convent. I shall 
 prevent you from this rash act in spite of your- 
 self." 
 
 " No, no," she cried. The girl seemed shaken 
 by the young officer's vehemence. She drew back 
 in terror. " I have regained my strength. I will 
 not yield to weakness again. I have chosen my 
 life path and I forbid you to interfere." 
 
 [ 177] 
 
^flTrUmni"''^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE friendship between Barrlngton and 
 Padre Galvez was a source of much 
 pleasure to both. Somehow the old padre always 
 reminded the young American of the knights of 
 old — those men who had fought to win or die. 
 Interest between the two was strengthened by 
 associations of the past. In her girlhood Har- 
 rington's mother had known and admired the 
 young Spaniard who had become Padre Galvez. 
 The elder Galvez, his father, had been an uncle 
 of the King of Spain. He had held an Important 
 post at Madrid. The son, RIcardo, was twenty- 
 seven years of age and already remarkable for 
 his learning when he met Harrington's mother, 
 then In the first flush of youth. But the spoiled 
 
 [178] 
 
Clemencia'0 €xM% 
 
 and lovely girl had also a brilliant mind. She 
 was quick to discern a kindred spirit in the young 
 Spaniard. The latter recognized in the imperious 
 beauty a worth far beyond the physical attrac- 
 tion which she undoubtedly possessed. Uncon- 
 sciously they had been drawn together into a 
 memorable intimacy. In those days, long ago, 
 Maude Arslan had said to herself many times: 
 
 *' Ricardo alone understands me, and it is 
 because his love is not the love of man for woman; 
 it is true comradeship; it will last forever." 
 
 But with all her wisdom and acumen she had 
 failed to know the heart of Ricardo Galvez. He 
 loved her with a passionate but silent love. To 
 the serious-minded young Spaniard nothing was 
 so alluring as this audacious Irish girl, whose 
 bewitching manners and beauty bewildered him. 
 
 Yet as strongly attached as Ricardo was to the 
 girl, when he saw that she had given her heart 
 to John Barrington he went his way and she never 
 dreamed of the true nature of his devotion. But 
 often, as he walked in the warm sunlight among 
 the trees and flowers, he would see again, in ret- 
 rospect, her face as she had once turned it toward 
 him and whispered: 
 
 [ 179] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis! 
 
 " RIcardo, my only friend, I am so happy that 
 you alone have understood my heart from the 
 very first, because of our warm friendship. Even 
 John has not understood so well." 
 
 Galvez had smiled courageously and kissed her 
 hand, thanking God that she did not know his 
 heart as he knew hers. Now, after all these years, 
 he could truthfully say that the husband was not 
 less dear to him than this white love of his youth. 
 The coming of their son to him had touched the 
 dry places in his heart, making them to bloom 
 again with memories of the past. 
 
 Padre Galvez was too keen an observer of 
 men not to see that Harrington's mind was weighed 
 with some secret matter of import. 
 
 The two men were seated together on the 
 balcony built around the mission turret. Every- 
 thing was in readiness for the festival which 
 Senora Castellanos was about to give for the 
 entertainment of the fleet. Padre Galvez felt 
 great satisfaction that the senora had been pla- 
 cated, for he knew that she could be relied upon 
 to dispense true Spanish hospitality in her own 
 home. 
 
 The sun, a red ball of fire, had sunk into the 
 [i8o] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i$ 
 
 Pacific and in the east a faint star glimmered. 
 The peace of the great night silence was 
 approaching. 
 
 Harrington's voice at last broke the stillness. 
 
 " Padre," he said, " I am in dire distress. 
 Would you help me if I needed your assistance? " 
 
 The old priest looked up in amazement, as if 
 trying to grasp the full meaning of his friend's 
 words. Then he said slowly and as though a 
 little hurt : 
 
 " Can you doubt it, my son? " 
 
 Instinctively the priest had put out his hand. 
 The younger man grasped and pressed it. Padre 
 Galvez awaited Harrington's confidence. 
 
 " Padre, I may ask you for all the help that 
 your words promise, for mine is a question which 
 the church must decide." 
 
 The American got to his feet and paced rest- 
 lessly back and forth as if to regain his composure. 
 Finally he said: 
 
 " Padre, I love a woman." His voice was low 
 and tense. " I love her with all the strength that 
 is in me. I have reason to believe that she is 
 interested in me, but there is a duel between us 
 because she feels that it would be a sin to yield, 
 [i8i] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cti0i0 
 
 so she Is fighting me." Barrington ceased speak- 
 ing. He nervously paced the balcony to ease the 
 stress of his emotions. 
 
 The priest did not answer at once. When he 
 did speak his voice was quite grave. 
 
 " Why does she feel so, my son? You are not 
 bound?" 
 
 " No, padre, but she has made a mistake in 
 her life. She fancies herself held by a vow and 
 turns from me, refusing to free herself. Yet no 
 bonds on earth shall separate us if I find that her 
 heart is mine. Right or wrong, she shall belong 
 to me." 
 
 The priest's face paled with anger and surprise. 
 He arose and when he spoke his voice was sharp 
 and thin and lashed like a whip. 
 
 " I retract the offer made a moment ago, sir. 
 I spoke hastily when I promised to aid you." 
 
 Absorbed in his own thoughts and forgetting 
 that he had not revealed the nature of the bond 
 which held Clemencia, Barrington answered bit- 
 terly: 
 
 " If your God is a just God He will give me 
 the woman I love. But even if the church refuses 
 its blessing I shall bid her come to me without it." 
 
 [182] 
 
 I 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " You speak blasphemously, sir. You are no 
 Catholic. No true son of the church would use 
 such words." 
 
 The long, dark face of the priest showed 
 pinched and drawn in the evening shadows. The 
 expression in his eyes was the same as If a knife 
 were being turned In his heart. He realized how 
 he had idolized this young man, the son of the 
 girl whom he had loved, and he thought he saw 
 how far his idol had fallen. His words, though 
 spoken in an even tone, were heavy with contempt : 
 
 " The bond of marriage is lasting forever and 
 a day. Divorce never frees a Catholic man or 
 woman. You cannot marry her and keep your 
 church." 
 
 The two men faced each other in a tumult of 
 distress. As they stood thus there flashed before 
 Harrington's mental vision the luminous face of 
 his beloved. Her pale beauty haunted him. He 
 gave the priest look for look. 
 
 " Padre," he said, " I have misled you. The 
 bond which holds the woman I love is not mar- 
 riage." 
 
 "Not marriage?" exclaimed the astonished 
 priest. " What bond then could separate you? " 
 
 [183] 
 
Clemenda'0 Crisis 
 
 " Are there not other vows, my padre, which 
 are held just as binding in the sight of our church? 
 Oh, padre, trust me. I cannot tell you more now." 
 
 The priest grasped the hand extended to him, 
 but he was puzzled. He could not understand. 
 At that moment, however, the bell in the tall spire 
 of the nunnery pealed forth. The priest sud- 
 denly thought of Clemencia, as he always did 
 whenever the nuns came to his mind. His spirit 
 was constantly troubled about the girl. Like an 
 electric shock it flashed upon him. He knew, of 
 course, of Arslan's friendship with her. He 
 searched the young man's face anxiously, and as 
 he did so his own lighted up with a strange, soft 
 glow. 
 
 " The fancied bond," he questioned, " which 
 holds this woman is a holy one, is it not? " 
 
 The American nodded. Padre Galvez's face 
 was eloquent in its agitation. 
 
 " My son," he said, " there is no need to tell 
 me her name; it is engraved here." The priest 
 laid his hand upon his heart. 
 
 " Then, padre," Barrington said impulsively, 
 " cherish it in that sanctuary as I cherish it in mine, 
 and until she speaks let it be guarded well." 
 
 [184] 
 
Clemenria'0 Ctf0i0 
 
 " But, my son, why could I not aid you better 
 if I spoke?" 
 
 " Not yet, padre. She is not yet ready to hear 
 the truth from you." 
 
 Reluctantly the priest signified his consent to 
 silence. His arms went affectionately across the 
 young man's shoulders. 
 
 " If your faith be as great as a grain of mus- 
 tard seed you can move mountains. If you win 
 her you will gain a wonderful soul to cherish your 
 life long through, and the blessings of the holy 
 mother church will be yours." 
 
 That night Padre Galvez knelt in the sanctuary 
 of the mission. He lit two candles and stayed 
 through all the hours that they burned. In his 
 heart the good old priest was saying exultantly: 
 
 " Her son is a knight of King Arthur — he is 
 straight like a cedar of Lebanon — straight and 
 strong. He is worthy of her." 
 
 [I8S] 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 PERHAPS the prime requisite for a successful 
 career is adaptability. Unless one can adapt 
 one's self to change much suffering lies along and 
 at the end of the road. Often if grave and serious 
 matters are determined upon in early youth we 
 find later these principles have assumed the gro- 
 tesque. 
 
 But Senora Castellanos was not adaptable; she 
 was of another time than the present; nor was 
 she of those women who shape events to their 
 own ends. The senora was an old-school Span- 
 iard to the core. Her hatred of all things Ameri- 
 can was proverbial among those who knew her. 
 Added to this national dislike, which was 
 ingrained in the old dowager, was that closer and 
 more personal hatred which centered about the 
 tragic life of her beloved daughter, Clemencia's 
 mother. 
 
 Small wonder, then, that the good residents of 
 Santa Barbara were deeply surprised when they 
 [i86] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 learned that the Senora Castellanos had consented 
 to open her magnificent grounds and her home 
 for a fete in honor of the American fleet. 
 
 But though the acquaintances of the senora 
 knew of her hate for men and things American, 
 they did not guess of the poison of her rancor. 
 Not even Padre Galvez, who was her confessor, 
 knew, and often as the old priest paced his pillared 
 cloister, reading his breviary and meditating upon 
 the evanescence of earthly things, he sighed sadly 
 as he thought of the stern old woman and of the 
 girl who was her grandchild. More than once 
 the padre and the Senora Castellanos had spoken 
 on the subject of Clemencia. 
 
 " It is not true," he had said on one occasion, 
 " that God always demands sacrifices from his 
 elect." 
 
 To this the senora had answered: 
 
 " But these are the impressionable years — the 
 years during which she should learn the sterner 
 side of life." 
 
 " Nay," said the priest, " I would rather see 
 Clemencia less serious-minded and more taken by 
 those frivolities which are natural to a girl of her 
 age." 
 
 [187] 
 
Clementia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Santa Barbara was wel- 
 coming the stately, great 
 ships. Bronze-faced blue- 
 jackets and jocular ma- 
 rines, no less tanned, 
 thronged the streets of 
 the California city. By 
 day and by night processions bearing banners on 
 which were written welcoming legends paraded 
 the wide thoroughfares. 
 
 This was the night of the Senora Castellanos' 
 festival. Very regal she looked as she stood with 
 her granddaughter to receive the guests in the 
 [i88] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 large reception hall which ran the entire length 
 of the patio. Her hair, snowy white, was drawn 
 simply back and without adornment. Her black 
 dress was relieved of somberness by trimmings 
 of priceless lace. The old woman's darkly patri- 
 cian face and her vivid black eyes lent her the 
 appearance of some aged yet still vital empress 
 who gave audiences to those who paid her fealty. 
 
 Clemencia, like a slender lily, jewelless, stood 
 beside her. In her simplicity she was strikingly 
 beautiful. Her garments, like the morning mists, 
 were filmy white, but she stood in them like 
 Phoebe emerging from the clouds. Manuel 
 Sanchez, the nearest relative, was there also. At 
 the senora's request he was dispensing hospitality 
 as man of the house. Handsome in his dark, 
 daredevil way, he mingled with the guests and 
 was conspicuous wherever he went. Near by 
 Padre Galvez, dignified and courtly, held his 
 coterie, and the few priests present, coming and 
 going in their dark gowns among the gayly dressed 
 women and gold-braided officers, seemed to add 
 to the charm peculiar to that wonderful valley of 
 California. 
 
 There is no more courtly class in the world 
 
 [189] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri$i$ 
 
 than the cultivated Spaniard. Padre Galvez and 
 his hostess each showed the marks of gentle blood 
 In their bearing, though they represented widely 
 dissimilar types. Clemencia was representative 
 of still another t3rpe; the blood of a younger and 
 more virile race flowed warmly in her veins. 
 
 The grandmother, perhaps, was the most 
 strongly Individualized of the three; and yet the 
 austerely calm face of the padre was one to 
 remember. In it shone the light of a great 
 spiritual happiness, a happiness which clothes only 
 those who give their lives for others. He believed 
 that the real workers of the human race, hearing 
 the cry of destiny and pushing onward with heads 
 erect, will in time overcome all obstacles, because, 
 above the silence of the stars, their work is 
 planned, and that some day, the great work 
 at last accomplished, we shall reach the peaks of 
 wisdom. 
 
 The echo of laughter and merry talk was 
 everywhere. It seemed as if some gay magician 
 had waved a mysterious wand over the house and 
 grounds of the Castellanos. All about the place 
 were hung innumerable little Chinese lanterns, and 
 above the open and wooden-floored tents for the 
 
 [ 190] 
 
dancers fluttered vivid pennants. Soft-footed 
 servants glided in and out among the guests. 
 
 A number of festivities had been planned, but 
 the feature of the evening would be the dancing 
 of a bevy of Spanish girls and their partners in 
 the patio at ten o'clock. The dance would end all 
 entertainment save the dancing of the guests. A 
 hush fell upon the crowd when promptly at the 
 time the four dancing girls entered. They were 
 followed by four young men. The girls wore 
 brilliant yellow gowns with trimmings of gold, 
 and represented priestesses of the Sun God. The 
 dress of the men was of the same color, with 
 sashes of red, symbolizing the fiery beams of the 
 sun. All of them carried sunlike disks as shields. 
 
 They began a weird and curious dance, with 
 graceful and intricate figures representing cere- 
 monies sacred to the Sun God. 
 
 In and out the gayly appareled dancers trod 
 to the measure of music that sometimes spoke in 
 low tones of passion and sometimes sounded 
 trumpets of battle. 
 
 Harrington had never before witnessed the 
 Sun dance. He found that it stirred him strangely, 
 and he wondered just how fine the line is that 
 
 [191] 
 
Clemencfa'0 Crf0i0 
 
 separates the so-called love of culture and civiliza- 
 tion from the savage. 
 
 The young naval officer was quick to discern 
 that the one whom he loved was also deeply 
 moved. She stood at some distance and on the 
 other side of the dancers from him, but in her 
 heightened color, her glowing eyes and the quick 
 tapping of her right foot on the floor he read 
 other emotions than those which are welcome 
 behind the peaceful doors of a nunnery. 
 
 Quick and hearty applause marked the end of 
 the dance, after which the patio was deserted for 
 the pavilions. 
 
 Harrington and Clemencia had taken but a few 
 steps of an intoxicating waltz when he drew her 
 out of the pavilion. In silence they walked to a 
 distant corner of the grounds where the artificial 
 lights could not disturb a clear view of the night. 
 
 There they found a bench and rested upon it. 
 There was no moon and the constellations looked 
 larger, more luminous, while the air between 
 seemed to twinkle in purple lights. Harrington 
 spoke softly. 
 
 " The whole of nature seems to change under 
 the sheen and sparkle of the sky jewels." 
 
 [ 192] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 Clemencia sighed. " No tongue or pen can tell 
 the glory of the heavens," she answered. 
 
 " True," he said. " Yet looking once into that 
 dome of blue with its jeweled tapestry, even 
 though he should never see it again, the soul of 
 man could never forget." 
 
 " I feel as you do. Those tiny curtains of 
 flame fluttering between dusk and dawn have no 
 match in the whole universe for charm and mys- 
 tery." 
 
 The vastness and the beauty of the night was 
 upon them both. It was the first time for several 
 days that they had been alone. The man in him 
 was crying to be heard. He could not neglect this 
 opportunity. 
 
 " Miss Castellanos," Barrington's voice was 
 very soft and pleading, " I frightened you the 
 other night by my vehemence. I entreat your 
 pardon. My feelings carried me to the point of 
 selfishness. I wished to convince you by reason 
 that you had no right to become a nun. I failed 
 utterly because the personal note was too strong." 
 
 *' Why is it," she answered in a cool voice which 
 ignored a part of his sentence, " that you persist 
 in saying that I have no right to become a nun ? " 
 
 [ 193 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " I will tell you," he said, his voice gaining 
 strength. " You have no right to become a nun 
 because deep down in your nature you realize 
 that you were bound by a promise before you 
 understood the import of the oath that you took, 
 and because, though once ignorant and therefore 
 happy, you have now awakened to the seriousness 
 of your vow. There is in you now a dumb pro- 
 test. You know now that you will not be content 
 in a nunnery. Is it not true? " 
 
 Harrington's eyes were full of fire as he spoke, 
 and Clemencia shrank from his gaze. Her mind 
 was a chaos of wild thoughts. What was this 
 elemental tumult within her? 
 
 With a pang of fear the girl sensed that this 
 man's argument carried a dangerous appeal. The 
 fear was not lessened when she found that his 
 viewpoint did not outrage her own feelings. 
 
 What if, after all, she were only a religious 
 fanatic? But her grandmother — surely her 
 grandmother, who loved her best, was right. This 
 man spoke only out of his own worldly wisdom. 
 
 " You are mistaken; I am quite free to choose. 
 No one compels my choice." 
 
 Clemencia's color was heightened and her 
 
 [ 194] 
 
Clemenaa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 breathing was rapid, but she looked straight into 
 Barrington's eyes with an undisturbed glance. 
 The man gazed back at her and voiced a little 
 laugh. 
 
 [195] 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 ''T_TOW can you call it freedom when all of 
 A A your youth has been weighted with this 
 one hideously tyrannous thought — the thought 
 that salvation may be gained only through the 
 cloister? " demanded Harrington, *' Your grand- 
 mother is a remarkably clever woman and no 
 doubt she loves you deeply, but she is prejudiced 
 and creed ridden. She believed that only by this 
 spiritual bond could you be brought not to your 
 God but to hers. Therefore she has system- 
 atically spent her days in attempting to convince 
 you of this. In her mistaken zeal for your seem- 
 ingly imperiled future she has bent her energy 
 toward making you believe what she told you. 
 Small wonder, then, that she has succeeded. Miss 
 Castellanos, do not think for a moment that you 
 were ever free to choose. Every corner of your 
 mind has been crammed with your grandmother's 
 logic. Every enthusiasm of your youth has been 
 
 [196] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cn0i0 
 
 directed to her purpose. Your spiritual slavery 
 has been complete." 
 
 Barrington paused a moment. The girl took 
 advantage of the interval in his talk and began 
 speaking. 
 
 " Granting that all this is true — what differ- 
 ence does it make? Padre Galvez insisted upon 
 my knowledge of the world. Am I not free to 
 choose now? " 
 
 Harrington's words had made her uneasy and 
 she spoke in quick, staccato sentences. The man 
 leaned eagerly toward her. 
 
 " You must make me a promise," he said 
 sternly. She noted that he did not answer her 
 question. 
 
 "Must?" she queried. A signal of danger 
 was in her voice, but he ignored it. 
 
 " You must swear to tell Padre Galvez that I 
 love you," he said quickly. 
 
 " I am afraid you overestimate the importance 
 of the fact," she answered. " It would do no 
 good, anyway — the padre cannot influence my 
 determination." 
 
 " It is not the padre who will decide your 
 future," said Barrington. 
 
 [ 197] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " Pray, then, if not he, who can Influence me? " 
 The man's face was as white as death and his 
 eyes blazed as he answered: 
 
 (( T 5> 
 
 She looked bravely at him, though she trembled. 
 
 " What right have you. Lieutenant Barring- 
 ton? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Because — because I love you. Is that not 
 enough?" he whispered, making a movement to 
 take her In his arms. She leapt to her feet. 
 Barrington stood almost as quickly. His blood 
 was beating madly like little drums In his ears. 
 He was dizzy with the vision of her as she stood 
 in the night's warm glow. Never before had 
 she seemed so desirable to him. His eyes drank 
 her in. He noted with a throb in his throat that 
 she was trembling violently. 
 
 The man took a quick step toward her. He 
 held out his arms. 
 
 ''Don't — don't — " Clemencia pleaded un- 
 steadily, while his low, glad laugh broke on her 
 hearing. He gathered her close and crushed her 
 mouth against his own. She lay panting against 
 him. 
 
 *' I love you — I love you — " he began bro- 
 
 [198] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 kenly. *' Give yourself up to the truth and then 
 swear that my kiss Is distasteful to you if you 
 can I" 
 
 Speechless, she lay against him while he mur- 
 mured soft words of endearment. Then he 
 released her; she stood white and silent. Cle- 
 mencia felt as though she had passed through the 
 gates of death, but she knew that she had caught 
 a fleeting glimpse of heaven. 
 
 He was speaking to her again, and his voice 
 had not lost its vibrant note of passion, yet a new 
 tone was in it — a tone earnestly calm. 
 
 " From the time I was old enough to reason," 
 he said, '' my whole life has been directed toward 
 freedom. Like you, I determined that my life 
 should be as I willed it. The thought of bondage 
 has always been distasteful to me. Yet all my 
 determination avails nothing now, for you, beau- 
 tiful in body and soul, have taken me prisoner. 
 I reason with myself to no purpose. I know 
 myself conquered, beaten, because I see only you. 
 In the mists of the morning you rise to greet me 
 like Aurora. At night in my dreams you are 
 with me. This is no news to you, because you 
 know It. Yet you would ruin my life." 
 
 [ 199] 
 
Clemencja'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " It Is too late," she said dully. " I cannot 
 retract now." 
 
 " Not even when you know that you are 
 crushing life out of me? " he asked, hoarse with 
 feeling. 
 
 " Not even then," she said slowly. " I dare 
 not draw back now." 
 
 " My feelings are not enough, then? " he said 
 bitterly. ''What if there were another — a 
 stronger reason?" he ventured. 
 
 " There could be none," she replied, " at least 
 none that I could consider," but she avoided his 
 eyes uneasily. 
 
 " There is one," he persisted. " One that you 
 cannot thrust aside lightly, the strength of which 
 far outweighs all your arguments." 
 
 " I cannot listen longer," she said hurriedly. 
 " I'm doing the best I can — the best I know 
 how with my life. You seem bent on making it 
 hard." 
 
 But he was inexorable. He came a step closer. 
 
 " I'm making it hard on purpose," he said, 
 
 and he noticed her agitation with a feeling of 
 
 exultation. " You deny all that I say. You fight 
 
 me at every approach. Yet the reason I offer is 
 
 [ 200 ] 
 
Clemencm'0 Cri0i0 
 
 too potent to be ignored even by you. It Is the 
 fact that you love me and that I have just dis- 
 covered it." 
 
 He expected denial, protestation, but to his 
 astonishment she retained her composure. She 
 had reached a stage when the simple truth without 
 reserve did not startle her. But even in the star- 
 light he could not miss the hot color flaming in 
 her cheek and brow as she turned and faced him. 
 
 " You might have spared me that at least," 
 she said slowly, " but since you will have it — 
 yes, I admit it." 
 
 He seemed to grow straighter, taller, but he 
 made no reply. 
 
 " Perhaps it is true that I do love you," she 
 was saying, " but if I married you now it would 
 seem that I had deserted a higher sphere for a 
 lower one and had done it dehberately." 
 
 " Not if you love me — " 
 
 She withdrew her eyes from him, but he could 
 see that she was struggling with her emotions. 
 It was one of those moments when it is difficult 
 for a woman to keep her self-control. But she 
 was strong and the boundary line was not yet 
 crossed. It steadied his own tingling nerves to 
 [201 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 watch her as he waited eagerly for the answer 
 on which their destiny seemed to wait. 
 
 " True marriage Implies more than love. That 
 alone would not make us happy. If I were untrue 
 to the greatest principle of my life — the higher 
 object I have sworn to reach — could we ever be 
 content? Would not the feeling that I had low- 
 ered my standard — that I had probably sent my 
 grandmother, who has sacrificed all her life for 
 me, to the grave heartbroken because of my 
 failure — rise always like a skeleton between us? " 
 
 " No ! No one's life can be laid out in advance 
 for him or her by someone else. You are not 
 responsible for what has happened during the 
 last two months. Nor am I. If I have come 
 between you and the convent, remember that I 
 have suffered as much as you in doing so. It 
 would be sacrilege for you to become a nun now 
 because of the feelings you harbor. You belong 
 to me ! " 
 
 She thrilled with a curious sensation of joy as 
 she listened to his words yet answered: 
 
 " In consecrating her life to God it is not 
 unusual for a woman to give up her dearest ties. 
 I should only be one of many." 
 [ 202 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 " Ah, yes. But there is a difference. She gives 
 them up willingly. In your case it is desecration. 
 You are unwilling, and the fact that I know it 
 and that I, too, am unwilling makes it a crime. 
 Beloved, I claim you. Listen to your own heart. 
 You are bound to me forever and / have not the 
 slightest intention of giving you upJ^ 
 
 Moved by his persistence, she continued : '* You 
 say that the last barrier has gone down between 
 us. To me it seems that you have only built new 
 ones. Because I have departed from the princi- 
 ples of my life for a while and have allowed you 
 to make love to me is no reason why I should 
 forswear those principles entirely. I would hold 
 myself the worst woman alive if I should be so 
 weak." 
 
 He stood motionless and did not answer. Curi- 
 ously enough, he gloried that this woman in the 
 glow of youth and health and with love beating 
 at her heart could still deny it entrance. Her 
 determination to fight him mattered little. Now 
 that he knew her heart he would simply take 
 her — more forcibly, perhaps — but, willing or 
 unwilling, she belonged to him! 
 
 [203] 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 THERE comes a time to all the sons and 
 daughters of men when alone and unsup- 
 ported they must face life. The manner in which 
 this crisis is met shows the true measure of char- 
 acter. These crises are not unlike the last great 
 ordeal of death; they who love and who are loved 
 may not give comfort in the hour of agony. And 
 so it was with Clemencia; she faced her crisis 
 alone. 
 
 After leaving the dancing pavilion the girl went 
 directly to her room. Her brain was clear now 
 she saw that her temple had been built in sand 
 and had fallen. 
 
 Clemencia knew that her hour was upon her, 
 like the doe deer arrow-wounded; she knew that 
 she must either emerge from the struggle with her 
 hurt healed or with her spirit clothed in a stoicism 
 which would defy the world. She flung on a 
 kimono, unbound her long, golden hair and seated 
 herself in a chair beside an open window, through 
 [ 204] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 which the cool night winds blew in from the sea. 
 The sounds of laughter and music came to her 
 from below, but the sounds seemed alien and 
 remote. 
 
 Her temples were throbbing. The memory of 
 Harrington's impetuous kisses still stung her lips 
 and made her ashamed with a shame which car- 
 ried with it a recompense of remembered delight. 
 
 The girl leaned her elbows on the window sill 
 and wondered if her lover was seeking her below. 
 The memory of his white face, his vibrant voice 
 and his strong, eager arms ran through her like 
 old wine. She lifted her eyes to the dusky, star- 
 studded vault overhead. Somehow, though, the 
 vision failed to give her ease. She wanted — 
 she wanted his arms around her again, and she 
 wanted again his lips upon hers. 
 
 Below stairs Clemencia heard the guests taking 
 their leave. Still she sat silent in the window 
 and nursed her new-found happiness. Of a 
 sudden she left her seat by the window, snapped 
 off the light, and slipped into bed. 
 
 As she lay quiet she admitted to herself that 
 Harrington had spoken the naked truth. It struck 
 her with a thought of horror that she could take 
 [205 ] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cri0i0 
 
 no comfort from truth. She had believed that 
 the truth could console in all extremities. She 
 was now learning that the truth also might flay 
 the spirit with scorpion whips. 
 
 Every word that Harrington had uttered during 
 their Interview beside the rustic seat was burned 
 Into her brain as by a white hot brand. His voice, 
 the voice of her man, called to her to come, and 
 its note was powerful with the primal urge of life. 
 
 Yet she fought to close her spiritual ears to this 
 voice and to hearken only to the coldly solemn 
 command of the mother church. 
 
 Over and over again the wild thought flashed 
 into her mind: "What If I should stretch out 
 my hand and snatch this new-found happiness in 
 spite of all? Will it not recompense me for loss 
 of all else? " 
 
 All night the spirit of Clemencia Castellanos 
 was beaten and buffeted in a sea of indecision, 
 but toward morning she fell Into a troubled sleep, 
 In which Barrlngton seemed to come again to her 
 and with pale lips plead for his happiness. 
 
 The girl's slumbers were light and feverish. 
 Shortly after dawn she arose and dressed herself. 
 Without waiting for breakfast to be served in her 
 [206 ] 
 
Clemettcia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 room she descended the stairs and left a note on 
 the library table telling her grandmother that she 
 had gone for a horseback ride. She then made 
 her way out to the stables, aroused a sleepy groom 
 and a few minutes later was cantering off down 
 the long white road that led toward the mountains. 
 She turned her mount's head toward the tall 
 mountains that she loved so well. She felt 
 instinctively that they would soothe her. The 
 quick beat of a horse's hoofs, the wind blowing 
 [207] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 In her face, and the long, steady movement of 
 the animal she rode seemed to quiet the fever In 
 her blood. 
 
 A mile and a half from the patio she guided 
 her horse out of the main road and along a steep 
 path which ran Its rugged way to the top of a 
 high foothill. On the crest of the hill she halted 
 her horse and turned to gaze out over the ocean, 
 that eternally changing master worker In color. 
 As far as she could see Clemencia's eyes caught 
 glimpses of swift, white-tlpped combers endlessly 
 fleeing shoreward. Above her the wide branches 
 of the pine trees chanted their eternal under song, 
 which seems life Itself made audible. From 
 Inland came the far, faint music of a waterfall, 
 hidden among trees. 
 
 The valley which lay to the eastward from ridge 
 to ridge was filled with golden light, save where 
 now and then the shadows of sharp peaks pierced 
 Its loveliness. In the distance mission bells chimed 
 to mass, but to the ears of the girl they sounded 
 only as a part of the wonderful daybreak over 
 Santa Barbara. 
 
 Bathed in the glory of the morning, the girl 
 tried to forget everything but the marvelous pan- 
 [208] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 orama spread out before her wondering eyes. 
 The world, with all Its cares, life and Its unsub- 
 stantial shadows of dreams, receded. Dimly she 
 wondered if Moses had not felt thus, as on the 
 peak of Nebo he caught a vision of that land 
 which was to be given Into the keeping of the 
 Sons of Israel. 
 
 Then with the advance of day the spell was 
 broken. With a shock, life and the workaday 
 world, with all Its problems, again intruded upon 
 the girl's consciousness. Again all of her sorrow 
 swept over her. Suddenly she realized that had 
 not the dormant knowledge of Harrington's love 
 been hers the morning would not have appeared 
 so beautiful. 
 
 Slowly she rode down the narrow footpath. 
 Her mind was beaten again by those thoughts 
 which had been temporarily put to flight. 
 
 '' Oh, God! Oh, God! " she thought wildly, 
 " is my vow binding? Was not she who bore the 
 Christ a mother? Is there a holier calling than 
 that of mother and wifehood?" 
 
 Throughout the ride homeward and all the 
 morning thereafter these questions cried out to 
 the girl until she decided to go to Padre Galvez. 
 [209] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0f0 
 
 Not in the guise of one who seeks absolution but 
 as a friend who craves kindly advice. The decision 
 quieted her throughout the day, and enabled her 
 to meet and talk with her grandmother with her 
 usual self-possession. 
 
 [210] 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THAT afternoon Clemencia sought Padre 
 " Galvez at the mission house. She drove 
 there in the little basket phaeton which was kept 
 for her exclusive use. 
 
 The good padre was expecting her, for he was 
 one who observed keenly, and of late he had noted 
 many things. When the morning had gone by 
 and Clemencia had failed to come to mass he had 
 said to himself: "She is troubled." And the 
 nature of her grief had not been difficult for him 
 to guess. 
 
 The night before, at the fete, he had observed 
 
 [211] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 Clemencia and Barrlngton leave the pavilion 
 together. Their prolonged absence from among 
 the other guests he had also noted and he had 
 watched their return. He had his own reasons 
 for thus observing them; he felt that his responsi- 
 bility toward the girl was more than that of an 
 ordinary confessor. 
 
 It was soon after the noon hour when Cle- 
 mencia arrived at the mission. She was ushered 
 into the old padre's reception-room and, standing, 
 awaited his arrival. Padre Galvez, entering the 
 room unobserved, in silence watched her from 
 the doorway. Then he took a step forward. 
 Clemencia, hearing him, turned swiftly. She sank 
 to her knees and cried out : " Help me, padre, 
 for I have sinned exceedingly! " 
 
 The girl had not meant to tell him of her 
 trouble in these words, but the priest had broken 
 in upon her musings and unconsciously the words 
 of the confessional had leaped to her lips. 
 
 A gentle smile swept over the face of the old 
 padre. He crossed the room and stood beside 
 the girl. Then he lifted her from the floor and 
 assisted her to a seat, seating himself beside her. 
 Rapidly Clemencia told him her story. She did 
 [ 212 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 not spare herself, and the padre did not interrupt 
 her recital. When she ceased speaking he ques- 
 tioned her gravely, but there were no words of 
 reproach. 
 
 At last the ordeal was over. It was Father 
 Galvez who broke the deep silence which fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 " My daughter," he said, " you have not sinned. 
 Your soul is as white as are the souls of the 
 peaceful nuns." 
 
 " But, padre, did I not swear an oath? Surely 
 I have sinned in forgetting? " 
 
 " The love of man and woman is not sinful, 
 my child." 
 
 "But — forme?" 
 
 " For you, too, daughter. You fight to dream 
 the dreams of a nun while your rebellious heart 
 beats refusal. The mistake that you make is that 
 you see but one goal. You are striving to reach 
 but one end. Child," and the voice of the old 
 man grew strangely solemn, " there are more 
 roads than one to heaven. If one for whom God 
 has better use in the world enters holy life, actu- 
 ated by false fervor, that one will find no com- 
 fort." 
 
 [213] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 '* Yet — I have always felt that the convent 
 was God's field for me ! And surely It Is the 
 greatest of all fields in which to work! " 
 
 " To have sons and daughters Is noble, too," 
 answered the priest, and straightway asked: 
 " What right have we to question or to say which 
 is the greater field for us? God's ways are not 
 our ways. Is the crown of thorns a more glorious 
 consummation than the transfiguration?" 
 
 '* But, padre, has not my stay In the convent 
 already unfitted me for the world?" 
 
 " No, the human love you feel is peradventure 
 God's way of telling you whether you should 
 enter it again. There are many signs by which 
 you should know your true vocation. I have seen 
 no sign that you were really chosen to be a nun." 
 
 Then with a smile Father Galvez added: " It 
 Is not always necessary to seek heaven through 
 martyrdom." 
 
 To Clemencia, as she listened, reason whis- 
 pered: "Perhaps, after all, you have too nar- 
 rowly Interpreted the truth." 
 
 In his kindly voice the padre continued: " The 
 vocation in the Catholic church comes as an 
 Imperative call; those to whom it calls cannot 
 
 [214] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 make a mistake. The martyrs heard Its voice and 
 gave up their lives, but not all of us were meant 
 to be martyrs." 
 
 Clemencia felt that the whole world was 
 rocking under her feet. What did it mean — this 
 reasoning of the good padre? He only echoed 
 the words which her lover had spoken! She 
 stepped to the window. She felt stifled. The 
 cold breath of air which came down from the 
 mountains was like wine to her nostrils, and the 
 sharp-edged ridges of the stony heights were 
 bathed in their soft haze of amethyst. How 
 penetrating, how life-giving the air seemed. Below 
 in the garden she saw two cassocked monks walk- 
 ing to and fro. Her face was troubled and the 
 priest, who was watching her, went on : " Mother 
 church guards her souls well, but she does not 
 guard them all alike. My vision is clearer than 
 yours, child, but I feared that you would never 
 realize this. I have long known your lover, Cle- 
 mencia, and my faith in him calls me to champion 
 his cause. He will not lower your standards. He 
 will not separate you from your church. Only 
 another of her sacraments will bind you to her, 
 and in the world you will upbuild and glorify her." 
 
 [215] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 As the girl listened her face lightened. She 
 felt as if a great load had been lifted from her 
 heart, and she felt her rich blood flow freely again. 
 Padre Galvez's words found echo in her heart. 
 Was it possible that in her Valley of Renunciation 
 she had stumbled into the sunlit trail of happiness? 
 She turned and caught the hand of the priest. 
 
 " I am not alone, then, in this great world! " 
 she cried. But suddenly a great fear leaped into 
 her throat and she asked in a whisper: " Padre — 
 my grandmother! What of her?" 
 
 The priest pressed his hand wearily to his fore- 
 head, but his eyes smiled confidently into hers. 
 
 " That will be your greatest trial — and mine, 
 my child. But our kind mother, the church, will 
 find a way even to convince the senora. You can- 
 not turn back now! Be true to yourself! " 
 
 But even as she listened she gained strength to 
 refute his conviction. The courage of the mar- 
 tyrs was hers. 
 
 Well she knew that she loved Arslan, but was 
 love sufficient reason to deny her grandmother all 
 happiness? Pale she faced the padre. 
 
 *' I admit my love," she groaned in despair, 
 " but I will never betray her trust." 
 
 [216] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0x0 
 
 The padre argued long but to no purpose. 
 
 " Only she can release me," sighed Clemencla. 
 
 As the old priest seated her In her carriage he 
 drew the dark serape about her shoulders, for the 
 wind was chill, and he sighed deeply saying: 
 
 " Alas, you are wrong, my child, and I fear 
 peace will never enter your heart." 
 
 "^ pr 
 
 [217] 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE day following the fete Barrlngton kept 
 to his room, anxiously hoping that Clemen- 
 cia would relent and send for him. Brooding 
 thus, the hours passed slowly for him. Late in 
 the afternoon he wandered over to the Country 
 Club, remembering that he had made an engage- 
 ment to play bridge with Mr. Helton and two 
 other friends. The game was well under way an 
 hour later when Manual Sanchez came into the 
 cardroom. 
 
 The Spaniard took a quick survey and then 
 approached the players. He had been drinking, 
 the fact of which was plainly evident. His cruel 
 little black eyes showed venom as he greeted the 
 members of Harrington's party. 
 
 The necessity of speaking to Sanchez was dis- 
 agreeable to all of the men, but their nods of 
 recognition were forcibly polite. Sanchez seated 
 himself with a word of apology. But he soon 
 made manifest that he was more interested in one 
 
 [218] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 of the players than In the game. Twice he 
 addressed Barrington Insolently, and though the 
 latter returned cool replies It was evident that the 
 Spaniard was bent upon mischief. 
 
 " You have American luck, lieutenant," he said 
 during an interval In the play, " but don't forget 
 that luck at cards means disaster in love." 
 
 Barrington endeavored to keep his temper. 
 One or two further Interruptions followed until 
 at last the naval man's patience was exhausted. 
 
 *' Senor Sanchez," he said finally, '' your Inter- 
 est In our game may be sincere, but your interrup- 
 tions would be more agreeable if they came later." 
 
 " I will speak when It pleases me, sir, and not 
 at your dictation," answered the Spaniard angrily. 
 
 " Here I Here! " Mr. Helton broke in. " For 
 heaven's sake, Sanchez, drop it! Leave us to 
 play our game In peace." 
 
 But the Spaniard's eyes were filled with rage. 
 *' I speak only to Lieutenant Barrington," he per- 
 sisted, " and I await his reply." 
 
 Barrington lifted his eyes to the Spaniard's face 
 and answered calmly: "For the same reason, 
 sir, I ask you to be more moderate In your lan- 
 guage. It might be misinterpreted." 
 [219] 
 
 I. 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 Without warning Sanchez lurched forward. 
 
 " There can be no misinterpretation of this! " 
 he almost shouted, raising his hand threateningly. 
 But the blow never fell, for Barrington pushed 
 back his chair and, springing to his feet, caught 
 Sanchez by the throat. A mad, unreasoning fury 
 possessed the American. For a moment the 
 strength of a giant was his. As he stood gripping 
 his enemy in a grasp of iron it seemed that 
 Sanchez was doomed. 
 
 The controversy had come about so quickly that 
 the three men at the table were for the moment 
 paralyzed with amazement. Fortunately for 
 Sanchez, their inaction was brief. Recovering 
 themselves, they broke Barrington's hold on his 
 foe, but not before the Spaniard had been choked 
 almost breathless and had received a terrible beat- 
 ing. 
 
 It was several minutes before Sanchez breathed 
 freely again, but the young officer regained com- 
 posure almost immediately. He stood silent for 
 a little space while Sanchez glared at him with 
 cold fury. Then he said: 
 
 " I regret this occurrence more than I can 
 express. I am your guest, Mr. Helton, and if in 
 [ 220 ] 
 
Clemencfa'0 €11010 
 
 any way I can make reparation I shall be pleased 
 to do so. But," and turning to Sanchez he added, 
 " you, sir, did not get half that you deserve." 
 
 " This cannot end our quarrel, Lieutenant Har- 
 rington! " snarled the other. 
 
 " As you please. But will you have the good- 
 ness to choose a more fitting place for our next 
 encounter? " 
 
 " Believe me," snarled Sanchez, " it will be a 
 fitting place and the occasion as soon as I can 
 make it." 
 
 " I am entirely at your service, sir." 
 
 '' You shall hear from me," Sanchez finished. 
 He strode out of the cardroom and a moment 
 later Harrington and his companions saw the 
 man's long, low automobile dash away down the 
 road that ran toward the town. 
 
 Despite her determination to keep the vow 
 made to her grandmother, Clemencia's heart was 
 bowed with grief and bitterness, following her 
 interview with the Padre Galvez. The fact that 
 she was doing her duty was poor consolation to 
 her stricken heart. She determined that she would 
 speak to her grandmother and beg her to hasten 
 her return to the convent. 
 
 [221] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 She was determined that she would not see Bar- 
 rington again. Indeed, she felt that she dared 
 not trust herself with him. 
 
 However, fired as she was with the belief that 
 she had renounced happiness forever, it was with 
 a feeling of relief that Clemencia received a mes- 
 sage that the senora was indisposed and had 
 taken to her bed with a severe headache. 
 
 Clemencia sought the patio and sank down into 
 one of the soft chairs. She was utterly weary in 
 body and soul. It was there, in the violet dusk of 
 a California evening, that Manuel Sanchez found 
 her two hours after he had left the Country Club. 
 
 '' Clemencia, I have been called suddenly away 
 and must leave for San Francisco early tomorrow 
 morning. I have come to ask you to accompany 
 me on the ride you promised." 
 
 "Not tonight," said Clemencia; "1 am too 
 tired." 
 
 " Sweet cousin, I leave tomorrow. Besides," 
 he added suavely, *' a horseback ride will rest 
 your nerves." 
 
 Though she knew he spoke the truth, Clemencia 
 demurred. 
 
 *' Another time would suit me better," she 
 [ 222 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 began, but Manuel broke in with : " But I have 
 something of great importance to tell you. It will 
 not wait." 
 
 '* To what purpose are our talks?" answered 
 the girl. 
 
 " Clemencia," he began persuasively, " your 
 conscience may be at rest tonight, for I have 
 promised that I shall not discuss the forbidden 
 topic of my love for you." 
 
 Noting that she still hesitated, he added: " A 
 promise is a promise, cousin. The horses already 
 await us." 
 
 Reluctantly the girl stood, but again she hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " Grandmamma is asleep. How shall I tell 
 her? " she asked. 
 
 " Tell her not at all," he answered quickly. 
 
 " But I never go out without asking her con- 
 sent. She would worry." 
 
 ''What, in her sleep?" he laughed. "Spare 
 her the knowledge, Clemencia — this time she 
 cannot worry." 
 
 [223] 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 UNDER her cousin's importunity, Clemencia 
 yielded and went to her room to don her 
 riding clothes. When she returned a few minutes 
 later they silently left the house and walked to the 
 spot where Manuel had left the horses. As he 
 assisted the girl to mount Sanchez smiled broadly. 
 
 " I am happy that you go with me," he said. 
 
 "Where shall we ride?" she asked abruptly. 
 
 " I know of a short cut to the range — shall 
 we try that? " he questioned. 
 
 " Lead, I will follow," Clemencia answered. 
 
 Out through the moonlight they rode, while 
 Clemencia, with a sigh, became absorbed in her 
 own thoughts. For a time neither spoke. Having 
 persuaded Clemencia to accompany him, Sanchez 
 seemed to be content. He led the way along the 
 narrow path that he had chosen. The flickering 
 light of the moon marked queer patterns on the 
 ground. 
 
 Presently where the path crossed a clearing It 
 [224] 
 
Cletnenria'0 Cri0i0 
 
 grew wider. Clemencia rode alongside her coni- 
 panion, but, wrapped in her own thoughts, she 
 paid no heed to him as he half turned and gazed 
 upon her with the fire of desire in his eyes, a fire 
 that burned more brightly, perhaps, because she 
 upon whom it was focused had always been so 
 unattainable. But tonight one observing closely 
 might have caught a gleam of triumph in the 
 glance. 
 
 Clemencia roused herself to find Manuel's gaze 
 upon her. '' What a girl you are, Clemencia ! 
 With all your wisdom you are but a girl ! " he 
 laughed in answer to her look. 
 
 *' What was the important thing you wished to 
 tell me?" she asked shortly. 
 
 " Oh, there is a certain spot upon which my 
 fancy has fixed, and it is there, and there only, that 
 I dare divulge my secret," replied Sanchez gayly. 
 
 " How mysterious you are tonight," she 
 answered, gazing at him in surprise. '' I have 
 never seen you in this temper before. Sir Knight 
 of the Cloaked Moods," she added, trying to 
 meet his jesting mood. 
 
 " I have reached the turning point in my life," 
 the other declared oracularly. 
 [225 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 "May it inspire you to great deeds I" she 
 answered. 
 
 " I am planning the greatest of them all," he 
 declared subtly. 
 
 " Manuel," she said, and halted her horse, " we 
 really ought to turn back." 
 
 '* Just a little beyond," he urged playfully. 
 " We are very near now! " 
 
 " But we have gone too far already." 
 
 " All right," he said, " we will dismount here, 
 and while the horses rest I will show you the won- 
 derful spot which I have chosen to be the scene 
 of my disclosure." 
 
 Clemencia slipped to the ground and walked in 
 short turns while Manuel tethered the horses. 
 When he rejoined her she had paused in a patch 
 of moonlight. 
 
 " Is this not enchanting? " he began, and, truth 
 to tell, the scene about them was wonderfully 
 beautiful. 
 
 The man and girl stood on a little knoll over- 
 looking a narrow valley. A few yards toward the 
 valley, and to the right of the trail along which 
 they had ridden, was perched a little log cabin 
 which the silvery light of the moon, filtering 
 [ 226] 
 
f 
 
 Clemencfa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 between the wide branches of the trees, had trans- 
 formed Into a veritable gnome palace. 
 
 The thick masses of spruce and pine, the sweep 
 of rising slopes, as they lifted toward the distant 
 peaks, the tiny white waterfall which leaped foam- 
 ing over a fir-framed cliff and then danced twin- 
 kling away — all these steeped in the mellow 
 moonlight made thought of fairyland not pre- 
 posterous. 
 
 The girl was thrilled by the beauty about her. 
 '' How wonderful it is ! " she exclaimed breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Then we must often come here together," he 
 said slowly. 
 
 " It is strange that in all my rides I have never 
 discovered this spot," she said in a low voice. 
 
 " And never would," answered her cousin 
 gayly. " It is my find — quite off the beaten 
 track, too ! " 
 
 "And now for the mysterious disclosure!" 
 exclaimed Clemencia, who for all her interest in 
 the scene still remembered that she must return 
 home soon. 
 
 " It is in the cabin that the secret must be told," 
 he said, leading the way down toward the hut. 
 [227] 
 
Clemencja'0 Cn0i0 
 
 He threw open the door and led the way inside. 
 Striking a match he lit a lamp, swinging from the 
 ceiling, and stood aside to let her pass. The cabin 
 was rudely furnished with a table and a cot, but 
 there were no signs of recent occupancy. Only 
 a heavy quilt was thrown over the cot, and dust 
 lay thick on the table. 
 
 "Why should one build out here?" she said, 
 looking curiously about her. 
 
 " Simply to be alone with nature, I suppose," he 
 answered. Seemingly forgetting the mission upon 
 which they had come to the cabin, she turned to go. 
 
 *' Wait a moment, Clemencia," said her com- 
 panion hastily. '' In the quiet — solemn quiet — 
 of this hut I wish you to hear what I have to 
 say." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember! But how dramatic! 
 Does it make the secret more important, telling it 
 here?" answered the girl. 
 
 " The surrounding will impress it better upon 
 your memory," he replied dryly. 
 
 " Well, hurry," she said. " My curiosity is 
 aroused." 
 
 Sanchez gazed upon her in silence, as if afraid 
 to begin speaking. Now that he had brought her 
 [ 228 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 to this secluded spot her unsuspecting inner sense 
 robbed him of words. 
 
 *' Well, Manuel," a little impatiently, " I am 
 waiting." 
 
 He nerved himself. '' Clemencia, what I have 
 to say may not be agreeable to you. Have you 
 thought of that? " 
 
 She was startled and answered hastily: " But 
 you promised to be pleasant." 
 
 Sanchez leaned across the little table at which 
 they had seated themselves. " I watched you last 
 night dancing with Lieutenant Harrington, and it 
 seems to me that your interest In him decidedly 
 unfits you for the veil." 
 
 Clemencia seemed thunderstruck by his words. 
 
 " How dare you say that to me ! " she blazed at 
 him. 
 
 " Surely you need not ask," he answered. His 
 voice held an insinuating tone. 
 
 She spoke furiously: "You have no right to 
 talk to me in this manner! " The girl faced her 
 cousin In astonishment and wrath. His manner 
 was new to her. The words, of course, were 
 nothing, but the tone In which they were uttered 
 carried a thinly veiled insult. Vaguely she under- 
 [229] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 stood that Manuel sought to call her to account, 
 and she resented the attempt. Her eyes grew cold 
 and hard. 
 
 *' Be careful, Manuel; there are limits to my 
 patience," warned Clemencia. 
 
 The man was unabashed, and an insolent look 
 had leaped into his eyes as he spoke. Suddenly 
 she felt a chill. The expression made her shud- 
 der. 
 
 Never before had Clemencia feared her cousin, 
 but something very like fear clutched her throat. 
 She essayed calmness and said: " Come, Manuel, 
 we are not children to stand here quarreling. The 
 hour is late and we must return." 
 
 " Not so fast, my pretty cousin. I have not half 
 finished what I came to say." 
 
 The girl turned toward the door, but he barred 
 the way. Crimson color flooded Clemencia's 
 cheeks. That he had attempted to call her to 
 account seemed bad enough; that he should seek 
 to dictate to her was to the girl almost inconceiv- 
 able, but she saw that he was greatly excited. 
 
 " I must temporize with him," she thought 
 swiftly, and said: "The moon is high, Manuel. 
 I wish to go home." 
 
 [ 230] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " And I say you shall not! " he replied, his voice 
 carrying a note of menacing authority. There 
 was no mistaking his tone now. Her heart 
 seemed suddenly wrapped in ice. 
 
 *' Are you insane? " she asked, her voice shak< 
 ing with terror. 
 
 " Mad with love for you! " he exclaimed pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 Then she knew that she was not mistaken. It 
 was evil that she had seen in his eye. Strangely 
 enough, the knowledge made her less afraid. She 
 understood now how she must deal with him. It 
 must be with cold contempt; that had always 
 brought him to his senses. 
 
 " Well, my chivalrous and courtly cousin," she 
 said, *' do you not think we can talk better in the 
 open? It is stifling in here." 
 
 Her words were edged. 
 
 For a moment Sanchez was misled by her 
 apparent calm; nor did he at once catch her sar- 
 casm. Her manner cooled his ardor. He was 
 nonplussed, but with the movement she made 
 toward the door his insolence returned. With an 
 ugly laugh he said: *' I prefer to talk to you 
 in the seclusion of this cabin." 
 
 [231 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Crisis 
 
 Instinct warned her to ignore his threats. She 
 must not let him know her terror. 
 
 *' How strangely you talk ! " she said, maintain- 
 ing her enforced calm. " Why should I want to 
 escape you, my cousin, my protector? " 
 
 " Drop that! I have forgotten both of those 
 roles tonight! " he snarled. 
 
 Praying that he would not hear the beating of 
 her heart, she replied: " Well, if you prefer we 
 will talk here." 
 
 " That is better," he growled. 
 
 [232 ] 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 "TT7ELL," she began nonchalantly, "be 
 ▼ V quick, for I shall not stay here much 
 longer." Her words and manner were ill chosen 
 and stung the man to fury. 
 
 He glared at her angrily, exclaiming: " That 
 is just what you will do ! You will stay here until 
 morning! " 
 
 Clemencia came of a spirited race and anger 
 ran riot in her as she listened to this base threat. 
 She leaped to her feet, in a storm of rebellion. 
 
 [233 ] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 " How dare you menace me? " she said. 
 
 Sanchez stood, also. He held out his hands 
 in expostulatory gesture, as if he would calm her, 
 but his small, black eyes glittered with a horrible 
 light as he said: 
 
 " You are in my power." He stepped forward 
 swiftly and gripped both of her arms. Clemen- 
 cia's face was like marble as she listened to his 
 terrible words. She tried to shake off his grip. 
 " You coward, you lied to bring me here." 
 
 " I would do more than lie to win you." 
 
 Suddenly the man clutched her to his breast and 
 gazed greedily down upon her, his eyes hot with 
 passion. She nerved herself to reason with him 
 again, while she fought to be free. 
 
 " Manuel, have you weighed the risk of detain- 
 ing me? My grandmother's wrath, should she 
 learn of this, will be visited upon you in a ter- 
 rible fashion." 
 
 " I have thought of that, but after tonight she 
 will be glad to consent to our marriage: she is 
 proud, you know." He laughed harshly. 
 
 Clemencia cried out in rage: " Does my hate 
 count for nothing? " 
 
 " I fear neither God, man, nor the devil to- 
 
 [234] 
 
Clemenria'0 Crisis 
 
 night, with you in my arms ! " He leaned down 
 to kiss her. She screamed aloud twice. 
 
 Swiftly Sanchez slipped his hand over her 
 mouth. She jerked it away and again sent her 
 voice through the quiet night. 
 
 Suddenly a great new strength seemed to be 
 hers. She began fighting the man like a tigress. 
 After a short, sharp struggle she managed to free 
 herself. Sanchez, taken completely by surprise 
 at the girl's furious onslaught, had fallen back 
 under the quick rain of her blows. 
 
 Clemencia was no weakling. The blows with 
 which she struck her cousin were not light ones. 
 
 For a time Sanchez was too taken aback to 
 offer resistance, but after Clemencia had struck 
 him several times stingingly in the face he reached 
 out and grasped her arms with a grip of iron just 
 above her elbows. Then again he crushed her to 
 his breast, where she lay panting and helpless. 
 
 " What claws you have. When will you learn 
 wisdom? " 
 
 Outside they heard the sound of running feet. 
 Sanchez lifted his head and listened. He was 
 fronting the one curtainless window of the cabin. 
 What he saw framed therein caused his face to 
 
 [235 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 grow gray. His arms fell limply from about the 
 girl and in a flash Clemencia had darted out 
 through the open door. She ran swiftly toward 
 the spot where they had left the horses. In her 
 excitement she did not pause to note the cause of 
 her deliverance. That help had come was enough 
 for her. 
 
 Clemencia a moment later flung herself Into 
 the saddle and urged her horse homeward at a 
 swift gallop. It was not until she was well on 
 her way that she took time to feel surprise that 
 she had not been followed. 
 
 The swift animal soon bore her to the safety 
 of the ranch. She slid from the horse's back, 
 slapped its hind quarters to start It on Its way 
 home, and hurried Into the house. 
 
 [236] 
 
^^v,?, 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 SENORA CASTELLANOS awakened early 
 the next morning, yet almost before she had 
 finished her small cup of black coffee with which 
 she invariably began the day she was surprised by 
 a visit from Padre Galvez. As early as the hour 
 was, the priest had found it difficult to wait even 
 so long. He had spent a restless night, during 
 which he decided that upon him devolved the task 
 of convincing the senora that in holding her grand- 
 
 [ 237 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 daughter to the letter of the childish vow she was 
 committing a sin. 
 
 The old priest was gentle by nature, but in that 
 interview no one would have suspected it. 
 
 The senora was quite unnerved by what he said 
 to her. He expressed his thought plainly and he 
 did not mince words. The time had come, he felt, 
 when Clemencia's life's happiness was at stake, 
 and he had determined that the senora's narrow 
 view of life should not wreck her granddaughter's 
 happiness. 
 
 Long these two old people talked together, and 
 the battle between them was a terrible one, for 
 though the Padre Galvez was an old man he was 
 fighting under the banner of youth, and the bat- 
 tle between youth and age is always terrible. 
 
 It is such an unequal contest ! Old age is always 
 so helpless I 
 
 The senora received her guest on the wide 
 veranda of her home. Clemencia, who under the 
 strain and excitement of the night before had 
 lain long awake, had not yet arisen. 
 
 The padre and his hostess were seated in a cor- 
 ner of the long, deeply shaded porch. 
 
 Father Galvez, after the first greetings, plunged 
 
 [238] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 almost immediately into the middle of his sub- 
 ject. His assurance that he spoke with the dele- 
 gated voice of God gave him courage. 
 
 " You will blacken your soul forever if you hold 
 Clemencia to her promise, and if you do not 
 release her she will send her lover away and keep 
 her oath to you. Look to yourself that you do 
 not crush the daughter as you did the mother by 
 your unholy interference." 
 
 Cruel though the words of the priest seemed, 
 he felt that nothing less than rank cruelty would 
 draw the veil of error from before the eyes of 
 the old woman to whom he talked. 
 
 Senora Castellanos, though she fought hard, 
 realized the truth of the priest's words and was 
 crushed by them. For weeks she had faced the 
 inevitable, and though her heart was rent by the 
 breaking up of all her well-laid plans her master- 
 ful spirit recognized defeat. For days the torture 
 of uncertainty had been hers. Had she not wit- 
 nessed the life's happiness of Clemencia's mother 
 wrecked by one of these same Americans? She 
 trembled at the priest's denunciations. 
 
 The priest read the woman's mind and he 
 hastened to take advantage of her indecision. 
 
 [239] 
 
Clemenna'0 Crisis! 
 
 '' See that you make amends to the daughter 
 for the injustice to the mother," he said. The 
 words were brutitl, but the tone was kindly. And 
 so the outcome of it all was that when the senora 
 arose to bid Father Galvez good-bye she had 
 been conquered. 
 
 " The very demons themselves are set against 
 me, I think," she said wearily, " and though I 
 know it is enchantment that has won Clemencia 
 from my cherished hopes I will release her from 
 her vow." 
 
 To the padre the senora was more terrible in 
 her sudden meekness than she had ever been in 
 her implacable determination. Gazing upon her 
 saddened face his eyes grew misty and he said 
 gently : 
 
 " Oh, my daughter, though your soul is troubled 
 now with the sacrifice you are making, your recom- 
 pense will be greater than you guess." 
 
 To this Senora Castellanos answered suddenly, 
 with all her old proud bitterness of manner: 
 " When I have talked with Clemencia send Lieu- 
 tenant Barrington to me." 
 
 [ 240] 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 AN hour later Clemencia answered her grand- 
 - mother's summons. Her experience of the 
 night before had been a terrible one. She bore 
 the marks of the strain in her white face. She 
 had determined to open her heart to her grand- 
 mother and to tell her the story not only of 
 Sanchez but of her struggles against the love that 
 had come to her for Barrington. 
 
 Then she would tell her grandmother that she 
 was still prepared to abide by the elder woman's 
 decision. She would send Arslan Barrington 
 away and take the veil in accordance with the 
 terms of her vow. But the elder woman's agita- 
 tion, plainly manifest, was disconcerting to the 
 girl, and for the moment she thought it best to 
 keep her counsel. Of late her grandmother had 
 worn a strained look that had caused Clemencia 
 to wonder occasionally if that strong virility was 
 lessening. 
 
 This thought touched Clemencia with sadness, 
 
 [241] 
 
Clemenna'0 Cri0i0 
 
 for with all the elder woman's asperity of manner, 
 her sternness and her cynicism, the girl knew that 
 she, Clemencia, was her dearest thought in life. 
 Their natures were so dissimilar that any show of 
 affection between them was rare, but Clemencia 
 appreciated the great affection — though mistaken 
 in its plans for her — that had ruled the senora. 
 
 She had, too, a tenderness toward the proud 
 and weary old soul that was suffering in its last 
 days of loneliness, shutting itself off in seclusion 
 and holding aloof from the world that would have 
 softened and given moments of forgetfulness, if 
 not continued peace. * 
 
 The senora was seated in the same chair from 
 which she had talked to Father Galvez and the 
 girl sat before her on the wide railing of the porch. 
 
 " Clemencia," began the elder woman, " the 
 padre has been with me and he crucified my heart 
 with his words. But that hour has passed." 
 
 Briefly the senora told her granddaughter that 
 she had wished to hear Clemencia's story and 
 then added: " I have not the strength to hear it 
 now." She told the girl of her interview with 
 Padre Galvez. In closing her talk she said: 
 " My beloved, the good padre tells me that I have 
 
 [ 242] 
 
Clemenxia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 been cruel to you — you who are dearer to me 
 than anything else In the world. I thought I was 
 acting for the best, but, alas, I see differently now, 
 and all my plans have gone astray. No one can 
 live another's life. You are free from your vow 
 to me.'* 
 
 Speechless with happiness Clemencia slid from 
 her seat on the porch railing. She bent swiftly 
 down and kissed her grandmother with a tender- 
 ness that had in it something of sorrow. The girl 
 realized that her grandmother in absolving her 
 from her vow was relinquishing a dearest hope. 
 
 The senora passed her hand lovingly across the 
 girl's hair. " And now leave me, my child, for I 
 feel sadly the need of rest." 
 
 Public interest was still at fever heat concern- 
 ing the power-house murders when the newspapers 
 came out with the declaration that the name of 
 the real culprit, *' the man higher up," would be 
 revealed in a short time as the result of important 
 discoveries recently made by detectives working 
 on the case. According to the accounts, the guilty 
 man was a member of the inmost exclusive circle 
 of Santa Barbara society. The accounts pointed 
 
 [ 243 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 out that success in tracking down the criminal 
 might be attributed to Mr. Helton, who had 
 spared neither money or personal effort toward 
 gaining the end sought. 
 
 The published accounts had keyed local inter- 
 est up to the highest point and the whole town 
 awaited developments with bated expectancy. 
 
 These power-house murders had deeply stirred 
 quiet Santa Barbara. That in the midst of the 
 peaceful town terrible death should be dealt out — 
 these horrible deaths for no apparent reason 
 — had terrorized the good citizens who natu- 
 rally placed blame on the strikers, whom they 
 believed took this means of retaliation. 
 
 But there were certain phases of the case which 
 had been at first absolutely baffling to those who 
 sought to clear up the mystery. 
 
 The diabolical ingenuity with which the trap 
 had been set showed that he who was responsible 
 for the crime possessed, at least, a working knowl- 
 edge of electricity. 
 
 Each of the oiling stands had been connected 
 with the turbine by wires secreted under the floor. 
 These wires had been governed by a time clock 
 placed in the alleyway which ran the length of the 
 
 [244] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 power-house on one side. The cunning manner in 
 which the arrangement had been made had puz- 
 zled detectives even after the warnings had been 
 issued. 
 
 Publication of the details of the scheme follow- 
 ing their disclosure had aroused anger in the quiet 
 little city. 
 
 Early one morning on the day after the news- 
 papers had made their sensational declarations 
 Mr. Helton called at Harrington's rooms before 
 the latter had risen for the day. Helton aroused 
 his friend from sleep and waited while the naval 
 man was at his bath. 
 
 When Harrington appeared ready to receive 
 his guest Helton said: " Harrington, the guilty 
 man in the short-circuit case has been identified. 
 I have facts in my possession which will enable 
 me to have him arrested today. My God, you 
 would never guess who it is ! " 
 
 "I am heartily glad," answered Harrington. 
 Then an expression on Helton's face caused the 
 young officer to add: " Surely you are not hesi- 
 tating to publish the criminal ! " 
 
 '* Yes, exactly that," said Helton. 
 
 "Who is the guilty man?" cried Harrington. 
 
 [ 245 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cn0i0 
 
 '' Manuel Sanchez! " 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Barrlngton. Helton 
 began speaking swiftly to his friend. " I wish you 
 to accompany me to Senor Sanchez's rooms that 
 we may make It possible for him to be quietly 
 arrested and removed from the city under guard 
 to avoid mob violence." 
 
 " Personally I am not favorably Impressed by 
 Senor Sanchez. Of this you are well aware." 
 
 " No more am I. However, I thought for 
 Clemencia's sake and for the sake of Senora Cas- 
 tellanos we would give him a chance. If he is 
 arrested today with those poor fellows scarcely 
 cold in their graves it will go hard with him," 
 exclaimed Helton. 
 
 " A rope or a bullet would probably be his 
 reward," answered Harrington. 
 
 " Yes, the people are at white heat; they would 
 not stop to reason. A maddened crowd usually 
 hangs a man first and gives him a trial afterward." 
 
 " But you say the men are here for his 
 arrest?" asked Harrington. 
 
 " Yes, but we could evade them. I have done 
 so much toward tracing the man that the police 
 would never suspect me of leniency. This will 
 
 [246] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 allow me time to warn him and give him time to 
 get away from Santa Barbara." 
 
 " You will send him under guard, I suppose? " 
 
 " Certainly, but I want you to accompany me 
 to his room and be with me when I offer him his 
 chance. Won't you come with me? " 
 
 " But our quarrel — our mutual dislike, these 
 would make me an unwelcome guest," answered 
 Barrlngton. 
 
 " Even so, are we not doing the man a good 
 turn In giving him a chance to defend himself? " 
 
 After brief parley Barrlngton consented to go 
 with Mr. Helton. They walked swiftly toward 
 the Spaniard's home. 
 
 Barrington's consideration of Helton's revela- 
 tions to him was made with the knowledge of these 
 things In his mind. He also knew that Manuel 
 Sanchez, as well as the senora, was heavily Inter- 
 ested in the power-house property. Consequently 
 he was the more mystified as to what purpose 
 could have actuated the Spaniard. 
 
 It took the two men but a short time to reach 
 Sanchez's rooms. From the Spaniard's valet the 
 two visitors learned that his master had not been 
 at home since the day before. 
 
 [ 247 ] 
 
Clemenna'0 €n0i0 
 
 Helton and Harrington called at once at San- 
 chez's office. They only found Miss Morro there. 
 She appeared pale but composed. 
 
 Almost as soon as Barrlngton and his friend 
 entered the room she rose from her seat at the 
 desk and asked: "Have you come to inquire 
 about the discrepancies in Senor Sanchez's ac- 
 counts with the senora? " 
 
 The two men were amazed and answered in 
 the negative. They learned from the girl that on 
 the evening before, the Senora Castellanos had 
 quite accidentally discovered a heavy deficit in her 
 accounts. 
 
 After listening to the girl's story Harrington 
 turned to Mr. Helton and said: "Pardon me, 
 Mr. Helton, but I would like to speak alone to 
 this young woman." 
 
 " Certainly," answered the other. Helton went 
 into an adjoining office and closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
 As soon as they were alone Barrlngton began 
 speaking to the girl: " Miss Morro, the deficit 
 In the senora's accounts was known to you before, 
 and I now know you referred to them when you 
 spoke of your employer's guilt to me." 
 
 [248] 
 
I 
 
 Clemenaa'0 Cri0i0 
 
 The girl did not reply. 
 
 Barrington waited for a moment and then, see- 
 ing that she did not Intend answering, he went 
 on: *' Is this the only transaction of which you 
 have knowledge? " 
 
 " Yes," she stammered. 
 
 " There is nothing else? " 
 
 " Nothing else," she answered defiantly. 
 
 "You feared nothing else?" Sanchez's secre- 
 tary gazed at Barrington with frightened eyes, but 
 she did not speak. He waited a moment and said : 
 " Will you compel me to tell what has passed 
 between us or will you reveal all you know? " 
 
 " I have nothing to tell," she said sullenly. 
 
 " Senorita, did your threat to betray Senor 
 Sanchez Involve no other crime? " 
 
 "Why do you ask me such questions?" said 
 the girl. 
 
 "You know everything!" Barrington said 
 sternly, as he suddenly leaned close to her. " You 
 even know where Sanchez is hiding." 
 
 " Senor Barrington," she stammered, her agita- 
 tion betraying her alarm. 
 
 " Come, Miss Morro, you know where he is 
 hidden ! You will have to tell us ! " 
 
 [ 249 ] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 But despite his firm belief that she knew all, 
 Barrlngton got no satisfaction from his Interview 
 with Miss Morro, and he was soon convinced that 
 he would have to employ unusual tactics to ascer- 
 tain the truth from her. 
 
 A moment later Barrlngton and the girl rejoined 
 Mr. Helton, and the two men left Sanchez's office 
 almost immediately. 
 
 The young officer said nothing to his friend 
 concerning his suspicions of Miss Morro's guilty 
 knowledge of Sanchez's criminal activity. He 
 was not sure of his ground and he knew It was 
 never wise to voice suspicion when it is not backed 
 by facts. 
 
 [250] 
 
CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 DESPITE the fact that the Senora Castel- 
 lanos had lost heavily through the dishon- 
 esty of Sanchez she offered a large reward for his 
 safe return. Though she had learned of his base- 
 ness toward Clemencia and was angered beyond 
 measure, she found that blood spoke with an 
 importunate voice. Whatever his crime against 
 her had been she felt that she could settle with him 
 later. That there would be a grim reckoning 
 with the derelict the old woman promised herself 
 firmly. However, just now her first endeavor was 
 to find Sanchez. Of course, she was not aware 
 that he was guilty of the more serious crime of 
 murder. 
 
 Immediate search was instituted for the missing 
 man. It was learned that he had not been seen by 
 his usual companions after he left the country club 
 following his altercation with Lieutenant Har- 
 rington. 
 
 At first Harrington felt uneasiness because of 
 
 [251] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 his trouble with the missing man, but this passed 
 away as he was easily able to account for his move- 
 ments after leaving the club, from where he had 
 gone directly home and to bed. 
 
 Of course, Clemencia and her grandmother 
 knew of the ride, but the senora forbade the girl 
 to tell of it until every other clew had been run 
 down. 
 
 Two days went by, during which no trace of 
 Sanchez was uncovered. On the evening of the 
 second day the senora reached the decision to per- 
 mit Clemencia to tell of her harrowing experience 
 in the secluded cabin. 
 
 The old woman, with Clemencia, was preparing 
 to visit Santa Barbara's police headquarters for an 
 interview with the chief when a servant announced 
 the arrival of Miss Morro on an important mis- 
 sion. 
 
 The senora went down into the drawing-room, 
 where the unfortunate girl awaited her. 
 
 Between wild sobs the girl told the Senora Cas- 
 tellanos that she loved Manuel Sanchez better 
 than she did her own life. She also revealed other 
 important facts to the old Spanish woman, who 
 listened in horrified wonder to the confession. 
 [252] 
 
Clemettcia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 It had been Miss Morro, according to her 
 story, who had been the means of Clemencla's 
 deliverance from the cabin in the woods. Accord- 
 ing to the girl's story, also, on that evening she 
 had suspected that her lover was going out with 
 his cousin, and, driven by jealous rage, she had 
 followed them on horseback, keeping far enough 
 away to escape detection. Then through the cabin 
 window she had watched their struggle. Manuel, 
 facing the window, had glimpsed her after she 
 made some slight noise to attract his glance. Miss 
 Morro said that when Clemencia ran out of the 
 cabin she had faced her lover, telling him the 
 time had come for their marriage and that she 
 would no longer wait. 
 
 " Then he laughed in my face," she sobbed, 
 " and in fury I stabbed him twice. But when he 
 fell I prayed God not to let him die. For two 
 days I have nursed him, but this morning he does 
 not know me. I am so frightened, and, oh, 
 senora, will- he die? " 
 
 A rescue party was sent out at once and Sanchez 
 was brought to the home of his relative, after she 
 had made a solemn promise that she would be 
 responsible for his safe keeping. The old woman 
 
 [253 ] 
 
Clemenria'0 Cti0i0 
 
 almost succumbed to the shock when she learned 
 that he, in addition to his crime against her, was 
 suspected of murder. 
 
 It was many weeks before Sanchez was well 
 again — weeks before he could be brought to trial 
 for his misdeeds. When the time came, however, 
 the trial was the sensation of the hour. He was 
 acquitted on the testimony of Miss Morro. It 
 proved him to have been only the tool of the " men 
 higher up " in the most rascally deal ever per- 
 petrated anywhere. But though Sanchez missed 
 the penitentiary his days for doing evil were over. 
 The stab wound had paralyzed one side and ren- 
 dered it useless forever. 
 
 In court Miss Morro had laid stress on the fact 
 that every time the deadly deeds were planned she, 
 at Sanchez's orders, wrote the notes which saved 
 the men at the power-house. This gained his 
 acquittal. But Barrington suspected that she 
 swore falsely to save the man she loved. He 
 believed that she herself had prevented the mur- 
 ders without orders from him. But she was able 
 to prove that the short-circuit crime which had 
 resulted in the death of the three men was not 
 done at his command and that therefore he was 
 
 [254] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cti0i0 
 
 not responsible for those which followed. In fact, 
 she testified that only his will had prevented the 
 murder from occurring before it did. 
 
 When he was finally acquitted, that most faith- 
 ful of women took charge of the now helpless man 
 and when later he married her she declared her- 
 self the happiest of women. 
 
 The sunlight was flooding the world when 
 Senora Castellanos sent for Lieutenant Barring- 
 ton, but the shadows were beginning to creep over 
 the sublime wilderness of mountains before their 
 conversation ended. Their talk can only be 
 guessed, for always afterward the two were 
 strangely silent concerning it. But In the solemn 
 splendor of that amber-shaded room the Spanish 
 woman must have heard the secrets of the young 
 man's heart, and the struggle that Clemencia made 
 to keep her vow, for later she said to the padre : 
 
 " The silent force of nature Is a wonderful 
 thing, and the awakening of a soul marvelous. In 
 the silence of the mountains under the starlit sky 
 or in the midst of heated argument the soul hears 
 a call and then there is no evading its magic. It 
 convinces all at once. A magnet that baffles the 
 world to explain drew them together." 
 
 [255] 
 
Clemencia'0 Cri0i0 
 
 The older woman's face was white and drawn 
 when she sent for her granddaughter, but she 
 never faltered In what she had to do. Clemencia 
 alone guessed the depth of her feelings as she felt 
 her grandmother's cold lips against her forehead 
 and saw her tremble when she left the room. 
 
 Alone, Barrington and Clemencia faced each 
 other. Storm and rain, whirlwind and fire held 
 themselves In leash as they looked Into each 
 other's eyes. He moved toward her slowly and 
 opened his arms. She trembled from head to 
 foot, but she spoke first, and there was anguish 
 in her voice: 
 
 " Oh, I am a very wicked woman," she sobbed 
 passionately, " because I know now my heart cries 
 out for you." 
 
 His face was Illumined by her words. " Be- 
 loved, dare you, then, any longer deny me entrance 
 to it?" 
 
 " Can I take my happiness at the expense of 
 hers?" 
 
 Sternly he replied: " You are tenacious beyond 
 belief In this pretense of duty. There should be 
 no room In your heart for doubt." 
 
 " Either way my heart Is crucified." 
 
 [256] 
 
Clemenda'0 Cn0i0 
 
 *' Not so," he continued quickly. " There Is 
 but one road for us, and we will travel it 
 together." 
 
 " Why do you press me so hard? " she gasped. 
 
 " Because you would cheat us both. Too much 
 lies between us now for you to hesitate." 
 
 Still she struggled to fight him off. " Would 
 not memory kill us both? " 
 
 The moment was too strenuous. He would not 
 spare her. She must bear it with him. 
 
 " I will never resign my rights," he said deter- 
 minedly. 
 
 She clenched her hands in her agitation. " Will 
 God forgive me? " 
 
 Volcanoes, fire, storm were under their feet, 
 but they trod them breast to breast, as he whis- 
 pered softly: 
 
 " He has nothing to forgive. He put love into 
 your bosom to drown everything else," and caught 
 her to his heart. 
 
 THE END 
 
 [257] 
 
YB 32883 
 
 v-oi