poet's caprice, abandoned thee for some
newer fantasy, confide in me thy distress, to me, thy Knight, and tell
the story of thy sorrows."

"But," said Polly, rising to her feet and struggling between a laugh
and a cry. "I haven't any sorrows. Oh dear! don't you see, it's only
her FANCY to make me seem so. There's nothing the matter with me."

"Nothing the matter," repeated Don Jose slowly. "You have no distress?
You want no succor, no relief, no protector? This, then, is but
another delusion!" he said, rising sadly.

"Yes, no--that is--oh, my gracious goodness!" said Polly, hopelessly
divided between a sense of the ridiculous and some strange attraction
in the dark, gentle eyes that were fixed upon her half reproachfully.
"You don't understand."

Don Jose replied only with a melancholy smile, and then going to the
door, opened it with a bowed head and respectful courtesy. At the act,
Polly plucked up courage again, and with it a slight dash of her old
audacity.

"I'm sure I'm very sorry that I ain't got any love sorrows," she said
demurely. "And I suppose it's very dreadful in me not to have been
raving and broken-hearted over somebody or other as that woman has
said. Only," she waited till she had gained the secure vantage of the
threshold, "I never knew a gentleman to OBJECT to it before!"

With this Parthian arrow from her blue eyes she slipped into the
passage and vanished through the door of the opposite parlor. For an
instant Don Jose remained motionless and reflecting. Then, recovering
himself with grave precision, he deliberately picked up his narrow
black gloves from the table, drew them on, took his hat in his hand,
and solemnly striding across the passage, entered the door that had
just closed behind her.

[1] Hexagonal gold pieces valued at $50 each, issued by a private firm
as coin in the early days.

III.

It must not be supposed that in the meantime the flight of Don Jose and
his follower was unattended by any commotion at the rancho of the
Blessed Innocents. At the end of three hours' deliberation, in which
the retainers were severally examined, the corral searched, and the
well in the courtyard sounded, scouts were dispatched in different
directions, who returned with the surprising information that the
fugitives were not in the vicinity. A trustworthy messenger was sent
to Monterey for "custom-house paper," on which to draw up a formal
declaration of the affair. The archbis