seemed to
murmur back that it would come again, and again; and that with each
visit she would understand it better.

I have read somewhere that artists must suffer before they can
accomplish anything, she thought. Well, I should not mind, I should
not--at least, I think I should not.

Some time since she had come to the end of the path and turned to the
right and into a long lane running between fields. She sat down on a
stump; she had quite forgotten the party. Her brain was full of
struggling ideas. But in a few moments she surrendered herself to the
spell of the night. There were no trees quite near her, nothing but
level fields thick with grain. Far to the left and curving a mile behind
her was the black outline of the woods. Far behind them were the
towering mountains with their forests of redwoods; those on the crest
sharp against the stars. California was a new country. It might have
been newer, so vast was its silence, so primeval its peace.

Oh, I am sure I am happy, thought Magdalena, suddenly. Yes, I am sure.
But I wish I might never see anyone again. California is faultless; it
is civilisation that has spoilt her.

She was stumbling close upon great truths; but it was part of her
inheritance that she had no perception of what she was groping for, and
passed almost unheeding the little that came to her.

"Miss Yorba, are you cultivating a reputation for eccentricity?"

She sprang to her feet. Trennahan was approaching her. He was in evening
dress, without a hat. His expression was one of extreme amusement, and
Magdalena felt the blood in her face.

"Have they come?" she asked in dismay.

"They are dancing, or were about to begin as your mother sent me to look
for you."

"I had forgotten--"

"I was sure you had. Miss Brannan insisted that you were hiding, but I
had no doubt that you had wandered off in a reverie." He laughed. "Happy
you!" he said. "Happy you!"

"You think I am an idiot."

"Indeed I do not. I feel sorry to think that in a year from now such a
thing will no longer be possible. But we must go back, or they will be
sending someone to look for us."

"Is papa angry?"

"I don't think he noticed. Miss Montgomery and Miss Brannan were using
all their blandishments to make him think the party as interesting as
themselves; and I am positive they were succeeding."

When they reached the house, the quadrille which had opened the party
was finishing. Don Roberto was making a sweeping bow