He had stopped, with a strange fire in his eyes.  It still continued to burn as he went on rapidly,—­

“You will understand the sacrifice I am making in telling you this, when you know that I could have done all that I propose without your leave or hindrance.  Yes, Diego; I had but to stretch out my hand thus, and that foolish fire-brand of a heretic muchacha would have vanished from Todos Santos forever.  I could have left you in your fool’s paradise, and one morning you would have found her gone.  I should have condoled with you, and consoled you, and you would have forgotten her as you did the other.  I should not have hesitated; it is the right of the Church through all time to break through those carnal ties without heed of the suffering flesh, and I ought to have done so.  This, and this alone, would have been worthy of Las Casas and Junipero Serra!  But I am weak and old—­I am no longer fit for His work.  Far better that the ship which takes her away should bring back my successor and one more worthy Todos Santos than I.”

He stopped, his eyes dimmed, he buried his face in his hands.

“You have done right, Father Esteban,” said Hurlstone, gently putting his arm round the priest’s shoulders, “and I swear to you your secret is as safe as if you had never revealed it to me.  Perhaps,” he added, with a sigh, “I should have been happier if I had not known it—­if she had passed out of my life as mysteriously as she had entered it; but you will try to accept my sacrifice as some return for yours.  I shall see her no more.”

“But will you swear it?” said the priest eagerly.  “Will you swear that you will not even seek her to say farewell; for in that moment the wretched girl may shake your resolution?”

“I shall not see her,” repeated the young man slowly.

“But if she asks an interview,” persisted the priest, “on the pretense of having your advice?”

“She will not,” returned Hurlstone, with a half bitter recollection of their last parting.  “You do not know her pride.”

“Perhaps,” said the priest musingly.  “But I have your word, Diego.  And now let us return to the Mission, for there is much to prepare, and you shall assist me.”

Meantime, Hurlstone was only half right in his estimate of Miss Keene’s feelings, although the result was the same.  The first shock to her delicacy in his abrupt speech had been succeeded by a renewal of her uneasiness concerning his past life or history.  While she would, in her unselfish attachment for him, have undoubtingly accepted any explanation he might have chosen to give her, his continued reserve and avoidance of her left full scope to her imaginings.  Rejecting any hypothesis of his history except that of some unfortunate love episode, she began to think that perhaps he still loved this nameless woman.  Had anything occurred to renew his affection?  It was impossible, in their isolated condition, that