The sun declined, the dusk came creeping down, and with the approach of night the wind subsided. Fortunately there was no rain. The clouds had been carried in from the sea at right angles with the stream, and had broken in the mountains and poured out their torrents there.
Still the rushing of the river drowned all other sounds. It grew quite dark. Beltran leaned back against the chimenea. The slight creature at his side rested, also, in silence. The darkness became intense. The chimenea was needed no longer as a protection from the wind, but the utter absence of all light made the slightest motion dangerous. A chill mist crept up from the sea. The night began to grow cold, as do the tropic nights of midwinter. Beltran shivered. Something was pushed against his hand. He reached down and felt another hand, a hand slim and cold. He took it within his own, but it was at once withdrawn, and a rough and heavy article thrown across his knees. He felt some buttons, a pocket which held papers, a collar. Ah! It must be his woollen coat, which she had had the forethought to bring. Feeling for the sleeve, he threw the coat round his shoulders, and with a resolve born in a moment, reached out toward Agueda. His groping fingers fell upon her sweet throat and the tendrils of her boyish hair, the great dark rings, which, now that he could not see them, he suddenly remembered. Throwing his arm around her, he drew the damp and shivering figure close. Then he grasped the sleeve of his coat, and drew it towards him, forcing her head down upon his breast. He sought the other hand, and later found the tremulous lips. He held his willing prisoner close, and so they sat the whole night through.
Many and strange thoughts rushed through Agueda's brain during those blissful hours. Life began for her then, and she found it well worth living. She awoke. Her child's heart sprang into full being, to lie dormant never again. Nada's words came back to her. She did not wish to recall them, but they forced themselves upon her: "Never trust a gentleman, Agueda; he will only betray you."
"I should think much of your warning, Nada," thought Agueda, "if I saw other gentlemen. I never do see them. If I do, he will protect me." The danger had not arrived. It could never come now. She had found her bulwark and her defence.
