She spoke lightly, but there was a trace of bitterness in her voice that Muriel noticed.

"One doesn't find that atmosphere in the book. The men who went with Cortez were cruel as well as brutal."

"They certainly seem to have been so, which is one reason why they interest me. You see, the Spaniards seized these islands a little before they discovered Cuba, and I wanted to find out what the men who built these beautiful homes here were really like when they had work on hand.

As one would have fancied, the grave, ceremonious Don who posed as a most punctilious gentleman at home became a very different kind of person when he went to Mexico. The original Adam showed up there. It's a useful lesson to any one silly enough to idealise the man she is going to marry."

Muriel flushed a little. "I think I know what you mean. Mr. Austin tried to convey the same impression when he told me what they were doing on board the _c.u.mbria_. Still, he went a good deal further than you do. He made me understand that, though there are things that could only be done rudely and almost brutally, it was often only what was ideal in the men who did them that sent them to the work at all."

"Yes," said Jacinta drily. "I fancy he would do it rather well. Mr.

Austin is not much of an artist, and would never be a great one; but he has the capacity of understanding, or, perhaps, I should say imagining things. Still, the pity is that he usually stops there. He doesn't want to do them, and though he once very rashly tried, he was not long in discovering that the work was a good deal too hard for him. I really think you should be glad there is a trace of primitive--we'll be candid, and call it brutality--in Harry Jefferson."

Again the colour showed in Muriel's face. "It isn't," she said. "It's only natural forcefulness; but we needn't go into that. I wonder why you are so angry with Mr. Austin?"

"Angry?" and Jacinta raised her brows. "Oh, dear no! Still, there are points on which he did not quite come up to my expectations, and after the admonitions I have wasted on him I feel a little annoyed with him."

"Still, isn't that a trifle unreasonable? What could he have done that he hasn't done? He was ill and worn out, but he wouldn't even stay a day after he got the money."

"What money?" and there was a sharp insistency in Jacinta's tone.

"The money to buy the coal with. They found they hadn't enough, you know."

"I don't."

"Well," said Muriel, "it is really your own fault. You wouldn't let me tell you about it in the plaza. Mr. Austin had to borrow the money from his English relatives, though I think it hurt him horribly to ask them.

When he found they would send it he had to catch the first African steamer."

Jacinta straightened herself suddenly, and gazed at Muriel with astonishment and dismay in her face.

"So he meant to go back all the time?" she said.

"Of course," said Muriel, and Jacinta, sitting back again, sat very still, though her companion noticed that one hand had closed tightly on her fan.

"When was he to go?" she asked, with a curious quietness.

"In a day or two. He is in Las Palmas now."

Then there was a curious silence for almost a minute, and Jacinta, who could not rouse herself to break it, was glad to see that Muriel had evidently not remembered that her only information about Austin's doings was that contained in her father's message. There was no sound but the soft splashing of the fountain, and Jacinta found the stillness becoming intolerable. It was a relief when Muriel, who felt that her company was not appreciated, rose.

"Perhaps the senora will expect me to go back," she said. "Are you coming?"

"I am not," said Jacinta. "I have no doubt your aunt will come out to see me presently."

Muriel looked a little puzzled. "You will not mind my going?"

"Of course not," and Jacinta laughed somewhat curiously. "I have, as you see, a work on Mexico to keep me company."

Muriel left her, and she lay still in the chair listening to the fountain and gazing straight in front of her, until Mrs. Hatherly came down the veranda stairs alone half an hour later. She sat down and looked at Jacinta steadily.

"I suppose you know why I have come to Laguna to-day?" she said.

"Yes," said Jacinta quietly. "Still, I hadn't the faintest notion a little while ago. I shall try to bear anything you may think fit to say to me. Mr. Austin, I understand, is a friend of yours."

The little lady smiled, for she saw that Jacinta was clever enough to make no excuses, and she appreciated her candour as well as her good sense.

"Well," she said, "I want you to tell me why you sent him to Africa."

"For one thing, because Muriel was once very kind to me. Mr. Jefferson was down with fever, and I fancied that, in any case, he could do a good deal more with a comrade there. Still, that was not all. There were other reasons."

"Naturally. It is gratifying to discover how far a man's devotion will carry him."

A little flash crept into Jacinta's eyes, but it faded again. "I suppose I deserve that, but you are wrong. It wasn't to soothe my vanity."

"No?" and there was a suggestion of incredulity in Mrs. Hatherly's smile. "Still, one may be excused for pointing out that it really looks very like it."

Jacinta made a little movement with her fan. "You can't think worse of me than I do of myself; but I scarcely fancy I did wrong in sending him.

He was wasting his life here, and I thought I knew what there was in him. I wanted to rouse it--to waken him. You see, I am talking very frankly."

"In that case it must have cost you something to send him to Africa?"

The colour showed plainly in Jacinta's face. "I think that is another question. One, too, which you could scarcely expect me to answer you."

"I'm afraid it was not very delicate," and Mrs. Hatherly's eyes grew gentler. "Still, didn't you feel that you were presumptuous?"

"Of course; but I have always done what pleased me, and made others do it, too. It usually turned out well, you know. I have, however, come to grief this time, and it would almost be a relief if somebody would shake me."

Mrs. Hatherly smiled. "I fancy the feeling will do you good. Still, if you were right in sending Mr. Austin out, it is just a little incomprehensible."

"Then you don't know how I treated him?"

"No," said Mrs. Hatherly. "At least, not exactly. He only admitted that you did not seem very pleased to see him. Still, I am an old woman, and that naturally conveyed a good deal to me. Perhaps you do deserve shaking, but I want to be kind."

Jacinta turned to her with the colour in her cheeks and a haziness in her eyes.

"I taunted him with being a coward and finding the work too hard for him. The man was ill and jaded, but I had no mercy on him. He said nothing; he never told me he was going back. How was I to know? The night my father's message came I felt I could have struck him. If I had done so, he would probably not have felt it half so much as the bitterness I heaped upon him."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Hatherly. "It was, perhaps, natural under the circ.u.mstances, but there is a good deal that you are responsible for."

"What do you mean by under the circ.u.mstances?"

Mrs. Hatherly smiled. "I have not the slightest doubt that you quite understand, my dear. The question, however, is how you are going to set it right?"

Jacinta shivered a little. The colour had already ebbed from her face, which was a trifle more pallid than usual.

"It is a thing I may never be able to do," she said. "That is what makes it so hard. You see, a good many men go out to Africa, and so few come back again. If it hadn't been for that I don't think I should have admitted what I have done, but I feel I must have somebody's comprehension--if I can't expect sympathy."

"You have mine, my dear," and Mrs. Hatherly laid a beautiful thin hand gently upon her arm. "Besides, I think Mr. Austin will understand how it came about when he goes back to Africa."

Jacinta straightened herself slowly. "Well," she said, "that may happen, and in any case I know that I sent him, and he was glad to go."