“To San Francisco, for a while.  I’m not going East, I hope.  I’ve bought land near Monterey.  I mean to build and make a home for myself in California.”

Carmen’s one lingering hope died.  She had thought it just possible that this affair had been a travelling flirtation; that Nick, though infatuated, would return to his old allegiance when this witch-light, this will-o’-the-wisp, this love pirate, had gone.  But the love pirate intended to drop anchor in California waters, it seemed!  Luckily for Carmen that the daylight had faded.  Changes on a woman’s face, if bent a little, could not be seen in the dusk.

“I wish you’d give me a chance to prove that California women are just as glad as California men to be nice to strangers,” she went on.  “Your home isn’t ready yet, so you’ve nothing to tie you down.  Won’t you come and see my home?  It’s very pretty, if I do say so myself; and it might give you one or two ideas.  Try and help me persuade her, Nick.  You see, Mrs. May, I feel almost as if I knew you.  They could talk of nobody else at Rushing River Camp!  And meeting you in this wonderful forest makes me sure we ought to be friends, as if it was meant, you know.”

“You’re very kind,” said Angela, feeling distinctly guilty, because she did not like Carmen, and admired her only because she could not help it.

“I told you Mrs. Gaylor would want you to come to her house!” exclaimed Nick, trying to be cordial and forget his bitter disappointment.

He too was feeling guilty.  He had been even more sorry than surprised to see Carmen, and wished her a hundred miles away.  Something told him that, if she had not interrupted him just at the critical moment, when hour and place and mood had seemed propitious, Angela would have been kind.  Such a moment as Carmen Gaylor had spoiled might never come again.  But he felt that he was cruel and ungrateful to his loyal friend, his benefactress.  It was not her fault, he reminded himself, that she had appeared at the wrong time.  She could not have guessed that he loved Mrs. May.  He ought to be flattered because poor Carmen had started out to meet him in the forest, instead of waiting at Wawona.  The sound of her voice, with its deep contralto, reminded him how much he owed to Mrs. Gaylor.  Her friendship and generosity had made him rich.  If it had not been for her he would never have owned or been able to sell the Lucky Star gusher.  And, after all, there would be other moments.  Because Mrs. Gaylor had inadvertently robbed him of this chance with Angela, there was no reason to feel so gloomily sure that he would never have another.  He would make one for himself!  And now here was his kind friend, inviting Mrs. May to visit her, mostly to please him, of course.  How like her!  If only his angel would accept, he might be able to “cross the dead line” by and by, in his own country, and that would be the next best after the Mariposa Forest.