sk questions, I'll tell you why. There is one
of the sweetest old ladies there that I ever met--the perfection of
old-time courtliness with all the motherishness of a German woman. She
was very kind to me, and, as she had no daughter of her own, I think
she treated me as if I was one. At least, I can imagine how one would
feel to her, and what a woman like that could make of any girl. You
laugh, Mr. Hathaway, you don't understand--but you don't know what an
advantage it would be to a girl to have a mother like that, and know
that she could fall back on her and hold her own against anybody.
She's equipped from the start, instead of being handicapped. It's all
very well to talk about the value of money. It can give you everything
but one thing--the power to do without it."

"I think its purchasing value would include even the gnadige Frau,"
said Paul, who had laughed only to hide the uneasiness that Yerba's
approach to the tabooed subject had revived in him. She shook her
head; then, recovering her tone of gentle banter, said, "There--I've
made a confession. If the colonel talks to you again about my
conquests, you will know that at present my affections are centred on
the Baron's mother. I admit it's a strong point in his--in
ANYBODY'S--favor, who can show an unblemished maternal pedigree. What a
pity it is you are an orphan, like myself, Mr. Hathaway! For I fancy
your mother must have been a very perfect woman. A great deal of her
tact and propriety has descended to you. Only it would have been nicer
if she had given it to you, like pocket money, as occasion
required--which you might have shared with me--than leaving it to you
in one thumping legacy."

It was impossible to tell how far the playfulness of her brown eyes
suggested any ulterior meaning, for as Paul again eagerly drew towards
her, she sent her horse into a rapid canter before him. When he was at
her side again, she said, "There is still the ruin to see on our way
home. It is just off here to the right. But if you wish to go over it
we will have to dismount at the foot of the slope and walk up. It
hasn't any story or legend that I know of; I looked over the guide-book
to cram for it before you came, but there was nothing. So you can
invent what you like."

They dismounted at the beginning of a gentle acclivity, where an
ancient wagon-road, now grass-grown, rose smooth as a glacis. Tying
their horses to two moplike bushes, they climbed the s