"And they are washing the sands for gold there now," said Antonio,
eagerly pointing to some men gathered round a machine like an enormous
cradle. "Let us hasten on."
Father Pedro's momentary interest had passed. The words of his
companions fell dull and meaningless upon his dreaming ears. He was
conscious only that the child was more a stranger to him as an outcome
of this hard, bustling life, than when he believed her borne to him
over the mysterious sea. It perplexed his dazed, disturbed mind to
think that if such an antagonistic element could exist within a dozen
miles of the Mission, and he not know it, could not such an atmosphere
have been around him, even in his monastic isolation, and he remain
blind to it? Had he really lived in the world without knowing it? Had
it been in his blood? Had it impelled him to--He shuddered and rode on.
They were at the last slope of the zigzag descent to the shore, when he
saw the figures of a man and woman moving slowly through a field of
wild oats, not far from the trail. It seemed to his distorted fancy
that the man was Cranch.
Pages:
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397