Then she went to the parlor, and had the fire renewed and food
put upon the table. She was sure that he would need it, and
she believed he would be glad to talk over with her the events
of the afternoon.
The Senora was still sitting at the foot of the crucifix when
her husband opened the door. She had not been able to pray;
ave and paternoster alike had failed her. Her rebellious
grief filled every corner of her heart. She understood that
some one had entered the room, and she thought of Rachela; but
she found a kind of comfort in the dull stupor of grief she
was indulging, and she would not break its spell by lifting
her head.
"Maria."
She rose up quickly and stood gazing at him.
She did not shriek or exclaim; her surprise controlled her.
And also her terror; for his face was white as death, and had
an expression of angry despair that terrified her.
"Roberto! Roberto! Mi Roberto! How you have tortured me! I
have nearly died! Fray Ignatius said you had been sent
to prison."
She spoke as calmly as a frightened child; sad and hesitating.
If he had taken her in his arms she would have sobbed her
grief away there.
But Robert Worth was at that hour possessed by two master
passions, tyrannical and insatiable--they would take notice of
nothing that did not minister to them.
"Maria, they have taken my arms from me.
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