had brought to perfection of bloom. The scent of lemon and jasmine blossoms blent in the slow night wind, the benediction of placid domesticity.
"The land is sweet after the wild and bitter sea," said Gertrudis Sinova, standing to breathe such perfumes as chemist never blended, her arms lifted a little, her hands outspread. "There is security here; there is peace."
"If no prowling bandit comes," said Doña Ana, her voice low in dreadful caution.
"Little fear tonight, doña," Padre Mateo assured her, so calm and contented himself that his confidence spread round him like a light.
"They have been telling me of the wild robber who came last night," Gertrudis said. "It is a strange adventure to come to one's own door. I did not think there were such men in California."
"Put your fears away, then," Dominguez counseled, "and sit here near the wall. The heat of the day is in the adobe still, it will cheer you against the wind of our north country, which is not so soft as the night-winds in the land you left behind you, my dear."
"I seem to remember only storm and distress," the young woman sighed.
"It is past; here peace begins," Padre Mateo said.
"Where is the tall American with the shining hair?" she asked.
"He is standing sentinel, in the hope, I truly be-
