Spaniard."

"How do you know Garda cares so much for Spaniards?" said Manuel,
gloomily. "I suppose you remember that the mother, after all, is a
northerner?"

"I remember perfectly," replied the Cuban. "The senorita will always
do--"

"What her mother wishes?" (Manuel was afraid of Mrs. Thorne.)

"--What she pleases," answered Torres, serenely.

CHAPTER VI.

"I think you very wonderful," said Garda. "And I think you very
beautiful too, though no one seems to talk about it. That in itself is a
wonder. But everything about you is wonderful." She was sitting on the
floor, her hands crossed on Margaret Harold's knee, her chin resting on
her hands; her eyes were fixed on that lady's face.

"You are easily pleased," said Margaret.

"No," replied Garda, with the leisurely utterance which took from her
contradictions all appearance of opposition; "I am not easily pleased at
all, it's the contrary. I see the goodness of all my friends, I hope; I
love them very much. But they do not please me, as you please me, for
instance, just because they are good, or because I love them; to be
pleased as I am now, to admire as I admire you, is a very different
thing."

Margaret said nothing, and Garda, as if wishing to convince her, went
on; "I love my dear Dr. Reginald, I love him dearly; but don't you
suppose I see that he is too stout and too precise? I love my dear Mr.
Moore, I think him perfectly adorable; but don't you suppose I see that
he is too lank and narrow-shouldered, and that his dear good little eyes
are too small for his long face--like the eyes of a clean, thin, white
pig? Mrs. Carew is my kindest friend; that doesn't prevent me from
seeing that she is too red. Mr. Torres is too dark, Mr. Winthrop too
cold; and so it goes. But you--you are perfect."

"You have left out Mr. Ruiz," suggested Margaret, smiling.

"Manuel is beautiful; yes, in his face, Manuel is very beautiful," said
Garda, consideringly. "But you have a beautiful nature, and Manuel has
only an ordinary one. It's your having a beautiful face and beautiful
nature too which makes you such a wonder to me, because people with
beautiful natures are so apt to have ugly faces, or at least thin,
wrinkled, and forlorn ones, or else they are invalids; and if they
escape that, they are almost sure to have such dreadful clothes. But
_you_ have a beautiful nature, and a beautiful face, and beautiful
clothes--all three. I could never be like you, I don'