It was fate, and she had been singled out for the
sacrifice. Again she cried out in agony of heart and soul. Had she been
strong like the other woman, he must have loved her--his love never
could have died!

The thought of Chiquita brought her to herself in a measure, and as she
slowly began to pace the floor, Don Felipe's words came back to her. If
she did not possess Jack, no other woman should. Besides, she knew what
he did not know--that even if he wished to, he could not marry Chiquita.
A grim smile flitted across her countenance as the knowledge of this
fact flashed through her mind, the only ray of light in the chaos into
which she had been plunged by that misguided, luckless decision on her
part--her refusal to follow the Captain while he was still hers.

She knew it was purely revenge that had prompted Don Felipe to run her
rival's secret to earth, and she despised him for it. It was not so with
her--the thought of revenge had not entered into her calculations. But
neither Chiquita nor the Captain would escape. It was justice, nothing
more nor less; for they, too, like her, stood before the tribunal of
destiny and must bow to its decrees the same as she had been forced to
bow to them. Yes, she would give the signal to Don Felipe that night; it
was the only right thing to do.

She was calmer now, and when Rosita knocked lightly at her door and
entered the room to assist her in dressing for the evening, no one would
have suspected the ache at her heart or the storm-swept soul which her
calm exterior concealed.

XXIX

Padre Antonio sat before the open window in his living-room in a large,
comfortable chair, enjoying the beauty of the evening and the fragrance
of the last flowers in the garden, waiting for Chiquita to complete her
toilet.

It was one of those soft, balmy autumnal evenings, and gave promise of a
night of majesty and serenity when the moon rose in her full glory to
hold her silent watch over the earth once more. It was sweet to live on
such a day as this, when all the world seemed at peace; and what a
perfect night for the _fandango_. Presently the sound of light footsteps
and the soft rustle of a dress interrupted the train of his thoughts,
causing him to turn from the window to Chiquita, who, attired in her
ball dress, entered the room and paused before him.

There was not an inharmonious touch in her attire of soft creamy satin
and lace, richly embroidered with golden flowers. Del