"
"Oh, there is no hope."
"There is always hope. I'll think of something."
"We must go," said the Barbadian woman, warningly.
"Yes, yes! It is of no avail to resist," came the girl's choking
voice. She stretched out her little hand, and then, looking up at
him, said, uncertainly: "I--may never speak with you again alone,
senor, and I must pray to--cease loving you; but will you--kiss me
once so that I may never forget?"
He breathed a tender exclamation and took her gently to his
breast, while the negress stood by scowling and muttering.
The memory of that long, breathless moment lived with him for
years. Strangely enough, at the touch of her lips he felt his
courage forsake him--it ran out like water. He became weak,
fearful, despairing, as if it were his life that was ebbing away.
And the pang when she drew herself from him was like a bayonet-
thrust. Even when she and Stephanie had melted into the shadows,
he stood motionless under the spell of that caress, its ecstasy
still suffusing him.
He found himself following slowly in the direction they had taken
in the hope of catching just one more glimpse of her, but as he
emerged from the darkness of the park he paused. There across the
street, in the little open shrine set in the corner of the great
cathedral, she was kneeling before the shining figure of the
Madonna.
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