ing when you stood here this morning in the sun. You will remember, Juan?"
"But you were wrong when you said that home was dearer than friends in San Fernando. Poor Padre Ignacio! For the peace of the mission he banishes me, but he weeps to see me go."
"I have been a long time after the roses, Juan," she said, gently freeing her hands. "Padre Ignacio will wonder why I am so slow."
"There is no mystery," Juan answered, smiling; "he has been sitting on the bench by the wine press for the past ten minutes, waiting for us to come."
"Ah, what a heart!" said she.
