"Holy saints! I never knew love was all that!" acknowledged Ana. "It means also to dance, to listen to your lover's songs in the night under your window, and to go to sleep satisfied that he is not with some other girl. It means stolen looks like kisses. I never am sure but that they are sweeter than the kisses themselves, though they do not make one mad."
Raquel looked at her, and smiled strangely, and rose to her feet.
"Ai! you are right, Anita; it is without doubt more wise to love like that. All the girls in the willows think so." As she saw Ana's face flush, she turned in quick contrition. "Ah, forgive me! You do not love as they do, I am sure--those fat brown animals; but, Anita darling, I am a tired soul, and rest is somewhere far beyond the ranges, and--ah, well,--forgive me!"
"Why should I not?" she asked; "for, after all, you are right. All human things are much alike when they love--the brown girls in the willows also. They nurse their babies and thank the Virgin they are not childless, as I am."
"I am thankful to be as I am. When I have children, I want to love the father of them. My people did not ask if I loved my husband. They made the marriage, and God made me a widow. I thank God always that when I marry again I can do my own choosing."
"Oh, when you marry again! Good! When is it to be?"
"You may help me to decide," she said, a trifle nervously. "I am going to elope to-night. Will you ride along?"
"It is up there," and Ana waved her hand toward the blue mountains above Trabuco. "It is a long ride, but the moon shines, and--I am trusting you!"
"Your husband hates him, and will find fault if you go."
"He is--I think he is hurt," said Ana. "And I am going, though I go alone."
"You shall not go alone," and Raquel whistled to her horse. "Come! I needed something of this sort to rouse me from poppy dreams. I ride with you, my Anita; and the man, whoever he is, has my blessing."
They galloped together through the sweet-smelling grasses, and a load was lifted from Ana's heart. With Raquel beside her, she could ride care-free from danger to the man who had called her.
"I have not been told to take any one along," she confessed, "so I cannot mention names; but there is a man hurt, and we must manage to get extra horses away from the Mission, and things to eat, perhaps, for we go where no people live; and--I--that is all I dare tell you."