ularly her former husband, that excited her satisfaction and
tickled her pride.

Say thus felt happy and at rest, but that fatal interview with her
father suddenly dispelled all her fond dreams. The old man's revelations
annihilated everything at one fell blow. No hope was left; her life was
gone, her doom sealed. As if lightning had struck her she lay down by
the hearth, motionless, for a long while. She heard nothing; she stared
vacantly; her thoughts came and went like nebulous phantoms. At last
somebody entered the outer room, but the woman noticed him not. Three
times the new-comer called her name; she gave no reply. At the fourth
call, "Koitza!" she started at last, and faintly answered,--

"Opona."

Zashue, her husband, entered the kitchen and good-naturedly inquired,--

"Are you ill?"

She raised herself hastily and replied,--

"No; but I was asleep."

"The sun is resting on the western mountains," said Zashue; "give me
something to eat, I am tired."

She stirred the fire, and when dry brush flamed over the hearth she
placed the stew-pot on it. The remainder of the cornmeal she stirred
with water, and began to mix cakes in the usual way. Her husband watched
her pleasantly.

Zashue was indeed a good-looking Indian. Lithe and of a fair height,
with black hair and large bright eyes, he appeared the picture of vigour
and mirth. He chatted with the utmost nonchalance, telling his wife
about the insignificant happenings of the day, the prospects of the
crops, what such and such a one had said to him, and what he had told
the other in return. It was innocent gossip, intimate chat, such as a
contented husband may tell a wife in whom he places entire confidence.
How happy she felt at the harmless chatter, and yet how intensely
miserable. His inquiry, "Are you ill?" rang in her ears with a sickening
clang, like some overwhelming reproach. Why, oh why, had she not spoken
to him in time? He was so good to her. Now it was too late; and beside,
why anticipate the fatal hour when he must know all? Why not improve the
few moments of respite granted ere death came?

Say Koitza suffered him to continue, and listened with increasing
interest to the talk of her husband. It might be the last time. Little
by little, as he went on, with harmless, sometimes very clumsy, jokes
and jests, she became oblivious of her wretched prospects, and her soul
rested in the present. She began to smile shyly at first, then she even
laugh