exactly because of his anxious manner; it was because of the eloquence
that there is in a word of parting. At the moment she felt so alone in the
world, in such womanish need of sympathy, that had he whispered to her,
"Be my wife," she might have reached out her hands to him. But Thurstane
was far from guessing that an angel could have such weak impulses; and he
no more thought of proposing to her thus abruptly than of ascending
off-hand into heaven.

Coronado observed the scene, and guessing how perilous the moment was,
pushed forward his uncle to say good-by to Clara. The old scoundrel kissed
her hand; he did not dare to lift his one eye to her face; he kissed her
hand and bowed himself out of reach.

"Farewell, Mr. Garcia," called Aunt Maria. "Poor, excellent old creature!
What a pity he can't understand English! I should so like to say something
nice to him. Farewell, Mr. Garcia."

Garcia kissed his fat fingers to her, took off his sombrero, waved it,
bowed a dozen times, and smiled like a scared devil. Then, with other
good-bys, delivered right and left from everybody to everybody, the train
rumbled away. Thurstane was about to accompany it out of the town when his
clerk came to tell him that the board of survey required his immediate
presence. Cursing his hard fate, and wishing himself anything but an
officer in the army, he waved a last farewell to Clara, and turned his
back on her, perhaps forever.

Santa Fé is situated on the great central plateau of North America, seven
thousand feet above the level of the sea. Around it spreads an arid plain,
sloping slightly where it approaches the Rio Grande, and bordered by
mountains which toward the south are of moderate height, while toward the