revelation with the utmost gravity,
but for the first time in many years he was conscious of a novel
fascination in a sex to which he had paid no niggard's tribute. In his
world the married woman reigned; it was doubtful if he had ever had ten
minutes' conversation with a young girl before, never with one whose
face and form were as arresting as her crystal purity. He was
fascinated, but more than ever on his guard. As he rode over the sand
hills to the Mission she clung fast to his thoughts and he speculated
upon the woman hidden away in the depths of that lovely shell like the
deep color within the tight Castilian buds that opened so slowly. He
recalled the personalities of the young officers that surrounded her.
They were charming fellows, gay, kindly, honest; but he felt sure that
not one of them was fit to hold the cup of life to the exquisite young
lips of Concha Arguello. The very thought disposed him to twist their
necks.

VI

The Mission San Francisco de Assisi stood at the head of a great valley
about a league from the Presidio and facing the eastern hills. Behind
it, yet not too close, for the priests were ever on their guard against
Indians more lustful of loot than salvation, was a long irregular chain
of hills, breaking into twin peaks on its highest ridge, with a lone
mountain outstanding. It was an imposing but forbidding mass, as steep
and bare as the walls of a fortress; but in the distance, north and
south, as the range curved in a tapering arc that gave the valley the
appearance of a colossal stadium, the outlines were soft in a haze of
pale color. The sheltered valley between the western heights and the
sand hills far down the bay where it turned to the south, was green
with wheat fields, and a small herd of cattle grazed on the lower
slopes. The beauty of this superbly proportioned valley was further
enhanced by groves of oaks and bay trees, and by a lagoon,
communicating with an arm of the bay, which the priests had named for
their Lady of Sorrows--Nuestra Senora de los Dolores. The little sheet
of water was almost round, very green and set in a thicket of willows
that were green, too, in the springtime, and golden in summer. Near
its banks, or closer to the protecting Mission--on whose land grant
they were built--were the comfortable adobe homes of the few Spanish
pioneers that preferred the bracing north to the monotonous warmth of
the south. Some of these houses were long and ra