Adrian's heart leaped. Was
something amiss? He dismounted impetuously, throwing the reins to an
Indian who had come out evidently to do them service. Spear followed as
he rushed through the door. There stood Dona Briones, finger on lip,
demanding silence. Her face was grave.
"How--how is she? How is Inez?" Adrian stammered.
"The doctor's with her. Everything will be all right, I think. But make
no noise. Go in that room and sit down."
Adrian threw up his hands. "My God, woman! How can I sit still
when--when--?"
"Walk up and down, then," said Juana, "but take off your shoes."
Which Adrian finally did. It seemed to him that he had paced the tiny
chamber a thousand times. He heard movements, voices in the next room;
now and then his wife's moan and the elder woman's soothing accents.
Then a silence which seemed century long, a silence fraught with
unimaginable terror. It was broken by a new sound, high pitched, feeble,
but distinct; the cry of a child. Helplessly Adrian subsided into a
chair beside Nathan Spear. "Do you hear that?" he asked, mopping
his forehead.
"Yes, I heard it," said the other non-committally.
"I can't stand this any longer," Adrian exclaimed.
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