ast to be brought in from the scene
of the skirmish, when the screen of bushes by the rancho was parted, and
Rita appeared. Slowly and timidly she drew near; her face was like
marble; her eyes looked unnaturally large and dark. Dolores made a
motion to rise, but a gesture bade her keep her place.

"Hush!" said the young girl. "Sit still, Dolores! I have come--to--to
learn!"

"To learn, senorita?" repeated the woman, humbly. The senorita was in
her grateful eyes a heaven-descended being, whose every look and word
must be law; this new bearing amazed and puzzled her.

"What can this poor soul teach the noble and high-born lady?" she asked,
sadly. "I know nothing, not even to read; I am a poor woman merely. The
senor doctor is this moment gone to take his distinguished siesta; do I
call him for the senorita?"

Rita shook her head, and crept nearer, gazing with wide eyes of fear at
the prostrate form beside which Dolores was sitting.

[Illustration: "'HUSH!' SAID THE YOUNG GIRL. 'SIT STILL.'"]

"See, Dolores!" she said; and her tone was as humble as the woman's own.
"I must learn--to take care of him--of them!" She nodded at the
sufferer. "All my life, you see, I could never bear the sight of blood.
To cut my finger, I fainted at the instant. Always they said, 'Poor
child! it is her delicacy, her sensibility;' they praised me; I thought
it a fine thing, to faint, to turn pale at the word even. Now--oh,
Dolores, do you see? I desire to help my country, my brother, all the
heroes who are risking their life, are shedding their--their blood--for
Cuba. I think I can fight; I forget; I see only the bright shining
blades, the victorious banners; I forget that these heroes must bleed,
that this horrible blood must flow in streams, in torrents, that oceans
of it must overwhelm us, the defenders of my country. _Ay de mi!_ I
begged the General even now to let me fight, to let me stand beside my
Carlos, and wield my beautiful machete. Suddenly, Dolores--I heard the
shots; I heard--terrible sounds! screams--oh, Dios!--screams of men,
perhaps of my own brother, in anguish. All at once it came over me--I
cannot tell you--I saw it all, the blood, the wounds, the horror to
death. I awoke from my dreams; I was a child, do you see, Dolores? I
was a child, playing at war, and thinking--thinking the thoughts of a
silly, silly child. Now I am awake; now I know--what--what war means.
So--I am foolish, but I can learn; I think I can learn. Y