corner, hung the only object which seemed a memento of
their travels,--a singular-looking upright Indian "papoose-case" or
cradle, glaringly decorated with beads and paint, probably an Aztec
relic. On a round table, the velvet cover of which showed marks of usage
and abusage, there were scattered books and writing materials; and my
editorial instinct suddenly recognized, with a thrill of apprehension,
the loose leaves of an undoubted manuscript. This circumstance, taken
with the fact of Donna Urania's hair being parted on one side, and the
general negligee of her appearance, was a disturbing revelation.

My wandering eye apparently struck her, for after the first greeting she
pointed to the manuscript with a smile.

"Yes; that is THE manuscript. I suppose Enriquez told you all about it?
He said he had written."

I was dumfounded. I certainly had not understood ALL of Enriquez's
slang; it was always so decidedly his own, and peculiar. Yet I could not
recall any allusion to this.

"He told me something of it, but very vaguely," I ventured to say
deprecatingly; "but I am afraid that I thought more of seeing my old
friend again than of anything else."

"During our stay in Mexico," continued Mrs. Saltillo, with something of
her old precision, "I made some researches into Aztec history, a subject
always deeply interesting to me, and I thought I would utilize the
result by throwing it on paper. Of course it is better fitted for a
volume of reference than for a newspaper, but Enriquez thought you might
want to use it for your journal."

I knew that Enriquez had no taste for literature, and had even rather
depreciated it in the old days, with his usual extravagance; but I
managed to say very pleasantly that I was delighted with his suggestion
and should be glad to read the manuscript. After all, it was not
improbable that Mrs. Saltillo, who was educated and intelligent, should
write well, if not popularly. "Then Enriquez does not begrudge you the
time that your work takes from him," I added laughingly. "You seem to
have occupied your honeymoon practically."

"We quite comprehend our respective duties," said Mrs. Saltillo dryly;
"and have from the first. We have our own lives to live, independent
of my uncle and Enriquez's father. We have not only accepted the
responsibility of our own actions, but we both feel the higher
privilege of creating our own conditions without extraneous aid from our
relatives."

It struck me