as she fell into stupor, but she was incapable of receiving extreme
unction. Estenega was alone with her when she died, but the priest
returned a few moments later.

"Don Thomas Larkin wishes me to say to you, Don Diego Estenega," said
the Father, "that he would be glad to have you stay with him until the
next vessel arrives. As two members of his family have the disease, he
has nothing to fear from you. I will care for the body."

Estenega handed him money for the burial, and looked at him
speculatively. The priest must have heard the girl's confessions, and
he wondered why he did not improve the opportunity to reprove a man
whose indifference to the Church was a matter of indignant comment
among the clergy. The priest appeared to divine his thoughts, for he
said:

"Thou hast done more than thy duty, Don Diego. And to the frailties of
men I think the good God is merciful. He made them. Go in peace."

Estenega accepted Mr. Larkin's invitation, but, in spite of the genial
society of the consul, he spent in his house the most wretched three
weeks of his life. He dared not leave Monterey until he had passed the
time of incubation, having no desire to spread the disease; he dared
not write to Chonita, for the same reason. What must she think? She
supposed him to have sailed, of course, but he had promised to write
her from Monterey, and again from San Diego. And the uncertainty
regarding his Mexican affairs was intolerable to a man of his active
mind and supertense nervous system. His only comfort lay in Mr.
Larkin's assurance that the national bark Joven Guipuzcoana was due
within the month and would return at once. Early in the fourth week