might prove a legal title to their land from these impostors than to
sell out their possession to ME at a fair price."

"But couldn't you have bought from them both?" continued Clarence.

"My dear Clarence, I am not a Croesus nor a fool. Only a man who was
both would attempt to treat with these rascals, who would now, of
course, insist that THEIR WHOLE claim should be bought up at their own
price, by the man who was most concerned in defeating them."

He turned away a little impatiently. Fortunately he did not observe that
Clarence's averted face was crimson with embarrassment, and that a faint
smile hovered nervously about his mouth.

Since his late rendezvous with Susy, Clarence had had no chance to
interrogate her further regarding her mysterious relative. That that
shadowy presence was more or less exaggerated, if not an absolute myth,
he more than half suspected, but of the discontent that had produced it,
or the recklessness it might provoke, there was no doubt. She might be
tempted to some act of folly. He wondered if Mary Rogers knew it. Yet,
with his sensitive ideas of loyalty, he would have shrunk from any
confidence with Mary regarding her friend's secrets, although he
fancied that Mary's dark eyes sometimes dwelt upon him with mournful
consciousness and premonition. He did not imagine the truth, that this
romantic contemplation was only the result of Mary's conviction that
Susy was utterly unworthy of his love. It so chanced one morning that
the vacquero who brought the post from Santa Inez arrived earlier than
usual, and so anticipated the two girls, who usually made a youthful
point of meeting him first as he passed the garden wall. The letter bag
was consequently delivered to Mrs. Peyton in the presence of the others,