“Norine!  Oh, my dear—­” quavered the sick man.  “I can’t let you do this mad thing.  Think!  I’m ready for the grave—­”

“This will make you well.  We’re going away when the very next expedition arrives.”

But still Varona protested.  “No, no!  Who am I?  I have nothing to offer, nothing to give.  I’m poorer than a peon.”

“Thank goodness, I can do all the giving!  I’ve never told you, Esteban, but I’m quite rich.”  Holding the man away, she smiled into his eyes.  “Yes, richer than I have any right to be.  I had no need to come to Cuba; it was just the whim of an irresponsible, spoiled young woman.  I gave a huge amount of money to the New York Junta and that’s why I was allowed to come.”

“You’re not a—­a trained nurse?”

“Oh, dear, no!  Except when it amuses me to pretend.”

“How strange!” The invalid was dazed, but after a moment he shook his head.  “It is hard to say this, but I don’t know whether you really love me or whether your great heart has been touched.  You have learned my feelings, and perhaps think in this way to make me well.  Is that it?”

“No, no!  I’m thoroughly selfish and must have what I want.  I want you.  So don’t let’s argue about it.”  Norine tenderly enfolded the weak figure in her arms, “You must, you shall get well or—­I shall die, too.”

“I haven’t the strength to refuse,” Esteban murmured.  “And yet, how can I leave Cuba?  What right have I to accept happiness and leave Rosa—­”

This was a subject which Norine dreaded, a question to which she knew no answer.  She was not in a mood to discuss it, and made no attempt to do so.  Instead, she laid the invalid upon his pillow, saying: 

“Leslie is waiting to wish you joy and a quick recovery.  May I ask him in?”

She stepped to the door, only to behold her late companion making off down the village street in great haste and evident excitement.  Surprised, offended, she checked her impulse to call him back.  A moment, then she stepped out into the full sunlight and stared after him, for she saw that which explained his desertion.  Approaching between the drunken rows of grass huts was a little knot of people.  Even as Norine watched it grew into a considerable crowd, for men and women and children came hurrying from their tasks.  There were three figures in the lead, a man and two boys, and they walked slowly, ploddingly, as if weary from a long march.

Norine decided that they were not villagers, but ragged pacificos, upon the verge of exhaustion.  She saw Branch break into a swifter run and heard him shout something, then through eyes suddenly dimmed she watched him fall upon the tallest of the three strangers and embrace him.  The crowd grew thicker.  It surrounded them.

“Esteban!” Norine cried in a voice she scarcely recognized.  She retreated into the doorway with one hand upon her leaping heart.  “Esteban!  Look!  Some one has just arrived.  Leslie has gone—­” She cleared her vision with a shake of her head and her tongue grew thick with excitement.  “They’re coming—­here!  Yes!  It’s—­it’s O’REILLY!”