ish, and the will of her relations. You are an American,
not of Spanish blood."

"But surely this is not your determination?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "What would you? It is the determination
of my people."

"But knowing this"--he stopped; the quick blood rose to his face.

"Go on, Captain Carroll. You would say, Knowing this, why did I not
warn you? Why did I not say to you when we first met, You have come to
address my sister; do not fall in love with me--I can not marry a
foreigner."

"You are cruel, Maruja. But, if that is all, surely this prejudice can
be removed? Why, your mother married a foreigner--an American."

"Perhaps that is why," said the girl, quietly. She cast down her long
lashes, and with the point of her satin slipper smoothed out the soft
leaves of the clover at her feet. "Listen; shall I tell you the story
of our house? Stop! some one is coming. Don't move; remain as you
are. If you care for me, Carroll, collect yourself, and don't let that
man think he has found US ridiculous." Her voice changed from its tone
of slight caressing pleading to one of suppressed pride. "HE will not
laugh much, Captain Carroll; truly, no."

The figure of Garnier, bright, self-possessed, courteous, appeared at
the opening of the labyrinth. Too well-bred to suggest, even in
complimentary raillery, a possible sentimental situation, his
politeness went further. It was so kind in them to guide an awkward
stranger by their voices to the places where he could not stupidly
intrude!

"You are just in time to interrupt or to hear a story that I have been
threatening to tell," she said, composedly; "an old Spanish legend of
this house. You are in the majority now, you two, and can stop me if
you choose. Thank you. I warn you it is stupid; it isn't new; but it
has the excuse of being suggested by this very spot." She cast a quick
look of subtle meaning at Carroll, and throughout her recital appealed
more directly to him, in a manner delicately yet sufficiently marked to
partly soothe his troubled spirit.

"Far back, in the very old times, Caballeros," said Maruja, standing by
the table in mock solemnity, and rapping upon it with her fan, "this
place was the home of the coyote. Big and little, father and mother,
Senor and Senora Coyotes, and the little muchacho coyotes had their
home in the dark canada, and came out over these fields, yellow with
wild oats and red with poppies, to seek their prey.