"No. A woman's heart goes where it must. If a man loses, he loses."
She choked over her words. "It doesn't seem fair. I promised. I wore your ring. I said that if you saved ... him ... I would marry you. Manuel, I ... I'll keep faith if you'll take me and be content to wait for ... that kind of love to grow."
"No, my cousin. I have wooed and lost. Why should you be bound by a pledge made at such a time? As your heart tells you to do, so you must do." He added after a pause: "It is this American, is it not?"
Again she nodded twice, not looking at him lest she see the pain in his eyes.
"I wish you joy, Valencia--a world full of it, so long as life lasts."
He took her fingers in his, and kissed them before he passed lightly to another subject: "Have you heard anything yet of the tin box of Mr. Gordon's?"
She accepted the transition gratefully, for she was so moved she was afraid lest she break down.
"Not yet. It is strange, too, where it has gone. I have had inquiries made every where."
"For me, I hope it is never found. Why should you feel responsibility to search for these papers that will ruin you and your tenants?"
"If my men had not attacked and tried to murder him he would still have his evidence. I seek only to put him in the position he was in before we injured him."
"You must judge for yourself, Valencia. But, if you don't mind, I shall continue to wish you failure in your search," he replied.
It was now that Jimmie Corbett came into the room to say that Mr. Gordon would like to call on Don Manuel, if the latter felt able to receive him.
Pesquiera did not glance at his cousin. He answered the boy at once.
"Tell Mr. Gordon I shall be very glad to see him," he said quietly.
Nor did he look at her after the boy had left the room, lest his gaze embarrass her, but gave his attention wholly to propping himself up on his elbow.
Dick stood a moment filling the doorway before he came limping into the room. From that point he bowed to Miss Valdés, then moved forward to the bed.
He did not offer to shake hands, but stood looking down at his rival, with an odd look of envy on his face. But it was the envy of a brave and generous man, who acknowledged victory to his foe.
"I give you best, Don Manuel," he finally said. "You've got me beat at every turn of the road. You saved my life again, and mighty near paid with your own. There ain't anything to say that will cover that, I reckon."