ister of the Senora's,--a sister old enough to be wooed
and won while the Senora was yet at play,--who had been promised in
marriage to a young Scotchman named Angus Phail. She was a beautiful
woman; and Angus Phail, from the day that he first saw her standing in
the Presidio gate, became so madly her lover, that he was like a man
bereft of his senses. This was the only excuse ever to be made for
Ramona Gonzaga's deed. It could never be denied, by her bitterest
accusers, that, at the first, and indeed for many months, she told Angus
she did not love him, and could not marry him; and that it was only
after his stormy and ceaseless entreaties, that she did finally promise
to become his wife. Then, almost immediately, she went away to Monterey,
and Angus set sail for San Blas. He was the owner of the richest line
of ships which traded along the coast at that time; the richest stuffs,
carvings, woods, pearls, and jewels, which came into the country, came
in his ships. The arrival of one of them was always an event; and
Angus himself, having been well-born in Scotland, and being wonderfully
well-mannered for a seafaring man, was made welcome in all the best
houses, wherever his ships went into harbor, from Monterey to San Diego.

The Senorita Ramona Gonzaga sailed for Monterey the same day and hour
her lover sailed for San Blas. They stood on the decks waving signals to
each other as one sailed away to the south, the other to the north.
It was remembered afterward by those who were in the ship with the
Senorita, that she ceased to wave her signals, and had turned her face
away, long before her lover's ship was out of sight. But the men of the
"San Jose" said that Angus Phail stood immovable, gazing northward,
till nightfall shut from his sight even the horizon line at which the
Monterey ship had long before disappeared from view.

This was to be his last voyage. He went on this only because his honor
was pledged to do so. Also, he comforted himself by thinking that he
would bring back for his bride, and for the home he meant to give her,
treasures of all sorts, which none could select so well as he. Through
the long weeks of the voyage he sat on deck, gazing dreamily at the
waves, and letting his imagination feed on pictures of jewels, satins,
velvets, laces, which would best deck his wife's form and face. When
he could not longer bear the vivid fancies' heat in his blood, he would
pace the deck, swifter and swifter, till hi