for
what they say, and despise what they do. Besides, I wore it
to-day--and--I hate it." "But what fan wilt thou keep thyself? The
one of sandal-wood thou hadst to-day?" continued Enriquita, timidly
eying the pretty things upon the table. "None," responded Maruja,
didactically, "but the simplest, which I shall buy myself. Truly, it
is time to set one's self against this extravagance. Girls think
nothing of spending as much upon a fan as would buy a horse and saddle
for a poor man." "But why so serious tonight, my sister?" said the
little Enriquita, her eyes filling with ready tears. "It grieves me,"
responded Maruja, promptly, "to find thee, like the rest, giving thy
soul up to the mere glitter of the world. However, go, child, take the
heads, but leave the amber; it would make thee yellower than thou art;
which the blessed Virgin forbid! Good-night!"

She kissed her affectionately, and pushed her from the room.
Nevertheless, after a moment's survey of her lonely chamber, she
hastily slipped on a pale satin dressing-gown, and, darting across the
passage, dashed into the bedroom of the youngest Miss Wilson, haled
that sentimental brunette from her night toilet, dragged her into her
own chamber, and, enwrapping her in a huge mantle of silk and gray fur,
fed her with chocolates and chestnuts, and, reclining on her
sympathetic shoulder, continued her arraignment of the world and its
follies until nearly daybreak.

It was past noon when Maruja awoke, to find Faquita standing by her
bedside with ill-concealed impatience.

"I ventured to awaken the Dona Maruja," she said, with vivacious
alacrity, "for news! Terrible news! The American, Dr. West, is found
dead this morning in the San Jose road!"

"Dr. West dead!" repeated Maruja, thoughtfully, but without emotion.

"Surely dead--very dead. He was thrown from his horse and dragged by
the stirrups--how far, the Blessed Virgin only knows. But he is found
dead--this Dr. West--his foot in the broken stirrup, his hand holding a
piece of the bridle! I thought I would waken the Dona Maruja, that no
one else should break it to the Dona Maria."

"That no one else should break it to my mother?" repeated Maruja,
coldly. "What mean you, girl?"

"I mean that no stranger should tell her," stammered Faquita, lowering
her bold eyes.

"You mean," said Maruja, slowly, "that no silly, staring,
tongue-wagging gossip should dare to break upon the morning devotions
of the l