The
evidences of Cueto's vandalism affected O'Reilly deeply; they
brought him memories more painful than he had anticipated.
Although the place was well-nigh unrecognizable, nevertheless it
cried aloud of Rosa, and the unhappy lover could barely control
the emotions it awakened. It was indeed a morbid impulse which had
brought him thither, but now that he was here he could not leave.
Unconsciously his feet turned toward the ancient quarry which had
formed the sunken garden--his and Rosa's trysting-place.
O'Reilly desired above all things to be alone at this moment, and
so he was annoyed to discover that another person was before him--
a woman, evidently some miserable pacifico like himself. She, too,
appeared to be looking for roots, and he almost stumbled over her
as he brushed through the guava-bushes fringing the depression.
His sudden appearance alarmed the creature and she struggled,
panic-stricken, out of his path. Her rags could not conceal the
fact that she was deformed, that her back was crooked, so he
muttered a reassuring word to her.
This place was more as he had left it--there was the stone bench
where he had said good-by to Rosa; yonder was the well--
"Senor!" Johnnie heard himself addressed by the hunch-backed
woman. Her voice was thin, tremulous, eager, but his thoughts were
busy and he paid no heed.
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