and Father Rocus clung to me on
either side and implored me to leave before the return of Don Pedro.

Half stupefied with despair, I permitted them to lead me to the
stairway, where Dona Marguerite sobbed out an "_Adios!_" and turned
back. The padre hurried me down the stairway and out into the street,
where, after a hasty benediction, he hastened back to pacify the
violence of Don Pedro.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE MESSAGE

He left me none too soon. I could hear Don Pedro cursing furiously in
the courtyard. Fearful that if matters came to blows, I might do an
injury to the kinsman of my lady, I dragged myself away, heavy with
despair. Not until I was half across the plaza did I notice that I still
held her rosary in my hand. I stared at the little gold cross with
bitter hatred. It seemed so harsh a mockery that she should have given
me as parting gift that symbol of the gulf that now yawned between us,
wider and deeper than ever. Yet the gift was from her, and--I must bear
my cross!

For a moment I was tempted to put a pistol to my head and end all. But
the life within me was sane and strong, and the memory of my lost lady
too sweet for me to hurl myself into the unknown. In reflex from that
last black thought of self-destruction there came to me even a feeble
consciousness of resignation--a feeling that for her sake I must
endeavor to live my life in a manner worthy of her memory. And this
feeling did not leave me, but increased in strength throughout the weary
weeks of our long homeward journey.

We started that afternoon, immediately after the siesta, and proceeded
in a southerly direction on the road toward Durango. But I do not
propose to give here the tedious details of our trip. Greatly to our
disappointment, a few days brought us a parting from our noble friend
Malgares, who turned over his instructions and despatch-pouch to a
Captain Barelo. The latter took us so far south before rounding the
lower end of the terrible Bolson de Mapimi Desert that we at one time
thought he had secret orders to march us to the City of Mexico.

Whatever the object of this long detour, it served the purpose of
enabling Pike and myself to take many more observations of the mines,
towns, and other features of the country than if we had followed a
shorter route. By the time we had swung around, north by east, up
through the Province of Coahuila, and crossed over the Rio del Norte,
which here is more often called the Rio Gra